Friday, 9/10/10 – A Long Plane Ride
Brian, our son-in-law, picked us up about 6:15 a.m. and we were off to the airport – probably the scariest part of our trip is riding with our son-in-law!  (Don’t tell him I said so.)

The flight was uneventful. We watched the dumbest, most inane movie, Letters to Juliet. The magnificent scenes of Italy didn’t make up for the hokey romantic story we had to endure.  I should have kept my 2 dollars for the headphones.

I had the task of bringing a lunch because airplane food is outrageously priced on domestic flights.  We had a shopping bag of goodies – turkey, cheese, olives, chips, snacks.  I overdid it.  I take my assignments very seriously.

We arrived early into New York and found our departing gate which was located not far from our arriving gate.  Both flights were packed.  Things were looking good on the flight before we encountered a few mishaps.  A guy opened the overhead bin and my backpack fell right into Bill’s face.  Luckily, it didn’t break his glasses.  Then, the flight attendant delivering the dinners dropped a full plate of lasagna in the aisle right by Bill’s seat – looked like somebody lost their cookies.  

After dinner, we tried to sleep, but couldn’t because the seats were so cramped.  We really feel sorry for our “bigger” brothers and sisters in these little seats. 

Map of our trip

Saturday, 9/11/10 – Stresa (Lake District)
Our 7 hour and 40 minute flight ended (not too bad) and we arrived in Milan early – at 8 a.m.  Going through customs was a piece of cake. It's the 9th anniversary of 9/11; one would think that there might be a little more interest.  Oh well, glad we’re here and ready to do Italy.

We waited and waited for the bus to take us to Stresa.  The bus was about 30 minutes late.  We boarded the mini-van at 11 and were at our hotel in Stresa at noon. 

A very bad case of jet lag fell over me and as we gathered our luggage from the bus, I stole somebody’s computer in a black case thinking it was ours.  Luckily the gentleman tracked me down as we were checking into the hotel.  I was relieved – he wasn’t happy – but he didn’t break our fingers.  He just wanted to know what nationality we were.  When Bill said “Americans,” he grumbled and left.  I am off to a very bad start.

We found our friend and traveling companion, Steve, at the hotel front desk.  Steve and his wife Daira left 10 days before us and traveled to Munich to pick up their new BMW.  Difficult to believe the plan, hatched back in San Diego many months ago, is actually working and here we are in Italy.  In fact, Steve’s brand new BMW was sitting in the hotel parking lot – and what a beauty it is!

After we checked in, the four of us (Steve, Daira, Bill and I) headed to the main plaza in search of lunch.  Love this place.  We settled in at a café where Bill and I shared a margarita pizza and Steve and Daira got a sandwich.  The weather is delightful.  Waves of exhilaration followed by extreme exhaustion roll over me.  I am having a great time and am determined to keep my wits about me and not steal any more computers.  We stopped at a gelato stand and I indulged in the richest, creamiest dark chocolate gelato. So sinful and decadent. 

We strolled back to our hotel (Hotel La Fontana) along the shoreline of Lake Maggiore and watched folks enjoy their Saturday afternoon.  Along the walk, we saw families with kids playing and a few souls sunning out on the alleged beach (hey, we’re from San Diego).  We saw a film crew working with a gorgeous young model as she was forced to eat cookie after cookie with cameras rolling.  A few yards down, an Asian couple dressed in wedding attire posed for pictures.  No doubt the couple wasn’t the real bride and groom – just simply models.  After the photo shoot, the tired “bride” trailed after the groom and photography crew slinging her boquet around as if she had had it.  There were so many sites on our walk -- lovers intent on each other, boats carrying passengers to the islands and everyone speaking Italian – except for massive groups of Americans lining up and to load on tour buses with stressed out tour guides trying to keep them together.  Lord have mercy on them all!

Bill, Steve and Daira in Stresa	Statues in Stresa
Fancy hotels along the waterfront	Lake Maggiore

We stopped in at the Grand Hotel – the grandest in town (and the most expensive – a room will set you back about $2,000 a night.  Steve had read about Hemingway staying at this magnificent hotel so we stopped in the lobby looking for verification.  It’s still a GRAND old hotel with an amazing lobby.  Sure enough, the facts were all true.  Hemingway first stayed in this place (then a hospital) when he was 19 (in 1918). 

The Grand Hotel, Stresa

Hemingway stayed here

He was recovering from a war injury inflicted by Slovenians while he was working for the Italian Red Cross. He loved it here so much that he returned in 1948 for another visit.  That dude was everywhere.  I later learned that Winston Churchill spent his honeymoon here at the hotel.  The place was packed with the classiest of ghosts. We went back to our hotel, Hotel La Fontana – certainly not $2,000 per day – but a lovely, quiet, quaint place and crashed.  Steve and Daira, now at “Day 9” in their European adventure, are well over their jet lag. We met Andreis, the owner of the hotel.  He grew up working in this hotel – his papa was the owner. Papa’s portrait is

Daira in front of our hotel

Sunday, 9/12/10 – Boat Trip to the Borromean Islands
Island Hopping / Crowd Filled Day 

Breakfast was delicious.  Adries was there with his quiet properness to serve us coffee and tea.  However, we did detect instant coffee in the brew, but once we added the hot, steaming milk, we were happy.  We hit the buffet table with a vengeance and were oh so pleased with the offerings – brown eggs to boil (man, haven’t tasted an egg like that in years), cereal, fresh fruit, yogurt, croissants, ham, cheese, pain au chocolat and other various side dishes.  We paced ourselves so we were able to have several breakfasts that morning.

We got to the ferry terminal about 9:30 and purchased the package deal to the 3 islands and attractions in the Borromean Islands, scattered in the middle of Lake Maggiore. 

Looking BacK at Stresa

The Grand Hotel from Lake Maggiore

The Borromean Islands are named after the very wealthy Borromea family who made their fortunes here in trade and banking and then spent their fortunes (with lots left over) on the arts – from lavish works of art to plays and marionette shows.  Like the Medici’s who established a “godfather” control over of Florence, the Borromea family ruled the Lake District for many generations beginning around 1630.  With help from cheap labor and slaves, they turned these islands into magical retreats with elaborate villages and amazing gardens.  What we saw today gave us an insight to the kind of wealth the ruling families controlled.

Isola Bella

Island #1 - Isola Bella

Our first stop was Isola Bella (translated Beautiful Island).  Charles Borromeo (sponsor of Milan’s Duomo) named the island for his wife, Isabella.  It was here they constructed their 17th Century Borromeo Palazzo, the fanciest Baroque palace with its accompanying formal garden perched on a stepped pyramid formation built up from the water’s edge.

Isola Bella

Isola Bella

The island contained a little town, the huge baroque palace and incredible gardens (very English) all with views overlooking the twinkling waters of Lake Maggiore. The town had massive crumbling walls, steep stairs and church bells that could withstand a mega ton hit from an atomic bomb. 

It was a gorgeous Sunday morning.  The place was already packed with tourists (like us) and tour groups (like we try to avoid).  We had to muscle our way back to the palace through a tour group of 40 or more lead by one tired looking guide trying to impart a fact here and there. 

We got off the boat, climbed the massive steps to the palace entry.  The palace plan was started in the early 1600’s, but due to the plague and other various setbacks, it wasn’t completed until 1671 by the third generation of the Borromea family.  The family was expanding and needed a bigger place to entertain and impress their friends.  They had outgrown their first family retreat built on Isola Madre. 

Borromean Palace

Borromean Palace

Charles (Carlo) Borromeo and Isabella were the first in the family to move into the palace. 

Charles and Isabella

We could trace the dominate features on the faces of generation after generation as we roamed the portrait galleries .  Charles looked a lot like George Washington to me.  I was mesmerized by the family portraits of Isabella.  She was Carlo’s wife and daughter of a count.  She had that delicate, rich ruler look that made one think she had a bored life of entitlement.  However, after learning she was a talented artist and then seeing her paintings, I completely changed that image of her in my mind.  She did a huge painting of her child (Gilberto) sleeping in a cradle while her two dogs looked on. It was a masterpiece. The dogs were sensitively drawn, but the baby, tucked in his cradle draped with a blanket, was completely obscured from vision.  It was obvious Isabella had an amazing gift and truly adored her dogs.

The palace décor was very elaborate and very Baroque with chubby cherubs intermingled in with family portraits, war scenes, biblical depictions and a plethora of visions to intrigue and amaze a mere mortal from the 21st century. 

We ooooed and aaaahed over the inlaid wooded pieces -- carved desks, chests, tables and various thrones.  Also, in the mix, were weapons, musical instruments, puppets, and beds draped with heavy fabric.  We saw huge, intricate, glass chandeliers dangling high from above anchored onto painted, sculpted ceilings. A unicorn, the family symbol representing humility, was present in almost every room.

Borromean Palace

Borromean Palace

The music room was the sight of the 1935 Stresa Conference, where Mussolini signed an agreement with diplomats from France and Britain to stand together against Germany.  Italy, France and Britain figured it would scare Hitler out of starting WWII.  However, that plan didn’t work when Mussolini went off on his own and attacked Ethiopia and joined forces with Hitler.

The library was filled with books – first editions – sent directly from the printer.  Apparently, the Borromea family was filled with intellectuals and thinkers. I also bet they knew how to throw a good dinner party, as evidenced by the dining table set with blue glass place settings that made you take a second look, even if you’re not into that sort of thing. 

We spent some time viewing the bed that Napoleon slept in.  We also saw an engraving of his 1797 visit here in this very palace.  The pictures showed a bored Napoleon and Josephine (wearing a silly bonnet) seated at a garden party.

Borromean Palace

Borromean Palace

Sculpted arches inlayed with shells covered the walls and ceilings of the grotto (which was actually a series of 7 or 8 rooms).  These rooms transitioned to the garden and were cool areas where the residents could get out of the heat.

Before we went to the garden, Daira and I worked our way back through the palace, swimming upstream through the crowds to sneak a few photos – We were enthralled with the place.  Steve and Bill waited patiently in the grotto as the dutiful husbands they are.

We entered the amazing garden.  They really outdid the English in their English garden design.  There were 10 terraces stacked like a wedding cake and dotted with ponds, flowers, manicured hedges, occasional white peacocks and statues, Statues, STATUES!  The most prominent statue, which stood at the top of the garden pyramid, was a white unicorn ridden by a chubby cherub.  The unicorn had huge balls and the cherub looked down below, smiling and carrying his bow and arrows.  Looking out beyond the garden was the shimmering water – man-oh-man!

The Grotto	The Garden at Borromeo Palace
statues, Statues, STATUES	More Statues
The Garden	The Garden
More Statues	Unicorn ridden by a chubby cherub
A view from above	Looking back at the mainland

Island #2 - Isola Pescatori (or Superiore)

Our second island stop was Isola Pescatori (or Superiore).  There are no palaces on this island – only a town of 35 some odd families (most involved in the tourism  or the fishing industry).  We dashed up to the church in the middle of the island.  We peaked in through the door and decided there were probably much more interesting things to do in town.  We circled the island in no time, weaving in and out between tour groups.  We found a second floor café for a sandwich and beer.  After the needed refueling, we finished off the island, and returned to the boat dock.  We discovered we had time to track down a gelato – rather a rip off – very small and very expensive.

Isola Pescatori

Isola Pescatori

Island #3 - Isola Madre

Our last island stop was Isola Madre (Mother Island), the location of the 16th century villa, first of the Borreomea palaces – a little dark and somber and rather modest, but very cozy compared to the later family palace on Isola Bella where we visited earlier that morning.

Isola Madre

Isola Madre

Stairs from the Boat Ramp

On the grounds of the garden

We climbed up the many steps from the boat ramp and entered the gardens.  The paths through the gardens to the palace were simple – no grandiose statues here.  The place was peaceful and lovely.  Eight gardeners maintain the entire grounds, using water from the lake.  We walked by the boat house with an old rowing boat with curved fins – I could just imagine what it was like to see the boats rolling in back in the 16th century.

We entered the main palace front lawn.  A huge old Cyprus tree was patched and wired up.  A tornado in 2006 blew through the place, wreaking havoc on the poor old tree – the experts are still not sure if it will survive.

Main Palace

Cyprus tree

We entered the palace and were greeted by some hokey manikins dressed up in Renaissance attire.  The grand staircase was lined with family portraits – the Borromea’s weren’t bad looking folks – with money, you have a lot of choices.

The rooms were similar to the Isola Bella palace – but on a smaller scale.  There were the huge beds topped with canopies, dark, brooding paintings, light, airy silly paintings, library, a dining table elaborately set with china.  The views from the upper floors (Italian translation for floor is “piano”) were magnificent overlooking the gardens and family cathedral and surrounded by glistening water beyond. 

Many of the rooms contained exhibits of puppetry with a puppet show scene depicting hell.  Aside from puppet after puppet, we also saw painted backdrops, scripts, sheet music and the types of lighting used to produce the show. 

My absolute favorite thing about the mansion was a huge painting of Christina, Queen of Sweden (December 18, 1626 – April 19, 1689).  She was dressed in her military regalia – boots with the toe area exposed, uniform/dress cut up to the knee and fastened by a pearl broach.  Later I learned that Christina was a warrior and led many to victory.  She swore she’d never have children – and didn’t.  Some say she was a lesbian.  Don’t know why her portrait ended up here – must learn more about her.

Princess Christina, Queen of Sweden

Christina on a Horse

Others waited while I marveled over Queen Christina, then we entered the lovely garden with the peaceful pond.  We peaked into the family cathedral and made a pit stop. 

The Garden

The Garden

Family chapel

Family chapel

We had done our day in the islands and headed back down the garden path to the boat dock and just missed the boat. With an hour until the next boat, we headed to the only restaurant on the island (there is no town) for a beer.  The beer was good and cold – only wished I had ordered a larger one.  The piccolo went down too fast.

Finally got on our boat – it was packed – the last boat out of town.  However, the views of the islands were wonderful.

Heading back to Stresa

The Ferry

We walked back to our hotel and noticed a simple monument to the 9/11 victims with flowers left by the Stresa volunteer fire department – very touching. 

Monument to victims of 9/11

We refreshed ourselves quickly and headed to town for dinner at the La Botta.  I liked the rollicking, cheery atmosphere.  I watched the big sweaty, Italian cook through the order window.  He was passionate and intent on his work, producing lovely, comfort food for his guests.  I had the ravioli stuffed with spinach and bleu cheese – nice, but too salty for my tastes. 

We came back to the room to call it a day.  Bill did the laundry while I downloaded the photos.  Hope my brain can take all this stimulation!

Monday, 9/13/10 – Hike in Stresa’s Back Hills Country

Another big breakfast – I’m getting to know my way around the buffet table. 

After breakfast, we went our separate ways. Steve and Daira headed for the gardens and a long drive while Bill and I headed on foot to Mt. Montero. 

We trudged uphill through town with a totally useless map and descriptions.  It didn’t help that the GPS was not working.  Following the signs to Someraro and Levo, we ended up walking on the shoulder of the main road out of Stresa.  The switchbacks added a lot of distance and the cars and trucks didn’t add much to the trekking experience.  After a few miles of this nonsense, we spotted a trail straight up the hill with no switchbacks.  We were sliding on the layer after layer of decomposed leaves.  I imagined myself on a medieval path.  How could those guys of by-gone days navigate this trail in suits of armor laden with swords and cannon balls and to think, there were no shoes from REI to be had.

Halfway through this confusing path, we started to figure out the mapping system with codes like L-1, L-6.  We noticed along the way, signs in English posted that said, “Downhill for Bikers.”  What’s that all about?

Finally our medieval path emerged into Levo, a lovely little town that reinforced all my Italian stereotypes.  It was a quaint town in a beautiful hilly setting with breathtaking views, narrow roads, and the occasional dog barking.  The buildings were painted in bright colors with aging frescos on the walls.  I watched one little old guy with a cane make his way up hundreds of steeps to the church.  The rest of the townsfolk were tucked away somewhere – Rarely did I see anyone out milling around – not even the little old Italian guys that just like to hang out and pass the time of day.

Levo, with brightly painted buildings	Aging fresco on building
Levo	Levo

We found our way down to the main church with war memorials.  I was looking at young men from this village who gave their lives fighting against us.  They didn’t look like the enemy to me. 

Church in Levo

War memorial

Of course, I had to make a stop at the cemetery.  The dead certainly have wonderful views, perched up on the hill.  I’m crazy about cemeteries and in Italy pictures of the deceased are displayed on the tombs.  I went from grave site to grave site; crypt to crypt, viewing the faces of the stern, strong women (most with head scarves) and some goofy-looking guys (most with hats) and the occasional young face. It was as if I got to peak into the town’s scrapbook.  I’d love to know the stories that are buried with the people in that quiet little town. 

Levo cemetery

Levo cemetery

Finally Bill dragged me out of the cemetery and we managed to find a pathway out of Levo to our destination, Mt. Mottarone.

Before long, the pathway turned into another main roadway.  This is not the hike we envisioned.  I wanted to give up, but Bill trudged on until we found a foot path.  We heard cow bells, then saw cows and felt revived.  It was a much more pleasant experience.  It wasn’t long until we saw amazing views of Lake Maggiore down below.  We could see Isola Madre so clearly and to think we were just there on the island the day before.

Looking down at Isola Madre	Cows along the trail
Looking across Lake Maggiore	Looking down on Stresa

The trail took us higher and higher up into the hills.  We managed to get lost a few times, but then we came to a clearly marked crossroad – to the left was Mt. Mottarone (3 hours to the top); and to the right was the Alpine Gardens (10 minutes).  We followed the sign to the gardens.  On our way, we saw two  bathtubs abandoned in a field and wondered if that had something to do with Cialis.  We had a good laugh – only wished I had snapped a photo.

We stopped for a beer and sandwich at an outdoor spot next to the Cable Car – which we were hoping would take us to the mountain – but foiled again – it didn’t go where we had hoped.  The beer and sandwich were good, but the gardens had seen better days.  However, the garden had peaceful trails and the views of Lake Maggiore shimmering below were magnificent. 

Nancy sitting on her eggs

Alpine Garden

Since we couldn’t ride the cable car back, we trudged downhill back through Levo and finally back to our hotel in Stresa about 3 in the afternoon.  It turned out to be about 12 or 13 miles of hiking.  We were tired and sweaty.  We showered and then I started my journal.  Bill brought a beer up to the room for me.  Actually Andreis treated us to the beer.  What a sweet guy.  Had a discussion with Bill about not drinking the water – think it’s become an issue. Bill says it's OK; I'm not sure.

Tuesday, 9/14/10—Lake Orta and on to Varenna
It was our last breakfast with Andreis at La Fontana.  We were sad to say good-bye to such a sweet guy.  He didn’t charge us for any of the water or beer we ordered. He gave us all a warm hug.  When he hugged me, he whispered in my ear “Good-bye my love.”  Don’t you just love these Italians?  With his gentle embrace, my hearing aids went off reminding me what an old gal I am – darn that feedback! 

Steve’s new BMW is one honey of a car – quiet, smooth, comfy and all our stuff fits nicely into the trunk.  The night before, over dinner, we discussed the ground rules for the car.  Since the roads are very narrow and the directions confusing at times, we all decided to keep conversation to a minimum.  We’ll rely on Jill, Steve’s GPS, to lead the way, with Daira as the co-pilot.  Steve and Daira had a week of team driving in Europe with the new car and had most of the kinks worked out.  Our job was to sit back, relax and remain calm.  It was reassuring to see how well the system worked.

We decided to visit Orta on our way to Varenna, our final destination in the Lake District.  We retraced our steps to Levo, the place where Bill and I had hiked on foot the day before.  We didn’t realize how far we’d gone and how high we’d climbed.  It was fun seeing Levo one last time.

The next stop was in the town of Gignese.  We parked.  Steve read his BMW owner’s manual while Bill, Daira and I walked to the church on top of the hill.  Daira tried to get the doors open, but to no avail.  Daira went off to the Umbrella Museum while Bill and I explored more of the town, and Steve continued to study his owner’s manual.  There was something we really adored about that town -- very quaint, yet alive with people -- not like the other little towns.

Gignese	Gignese	Daira breaking into church
Gignese Church	Gignese Steeples	Gignese artwork

Steve--we had to pull him away from his owner's manual

Nancy trying to figure out how to putt with a fence post

GPS Jill, with Daira’s help, got Steve through a series of roundabouts and to the town of Orta, located on a peninsula.  We found a place to park and walked to the old town while gazing out at the Island of San Guillio.

Which way to Orta?

A view of San Guillio

Daira and I liked Orta so much with its quaint pathways and lovely shops that  we talked Steve and Bill into going back to move the car to another parking place, one with more time allotment – no way were we going to chance having Steve’s new BMW towed away.

Orta has a wonderful church, bell tower, cool shops, quaint cafes and the town plaza right down by the water.  It also had a dozen or so statues of people covered with letters from the alphabet.  I had a great time playing on these strange figures. 

Orta	Orta
Orta	Orta
Orta	Orta
Orta	Orta
Orta	Orta
Orta	Orta

Orta

Orta

Orta

We took a boat to the Island of San Guilio.  The island was once a monastery where the monks took a vow of silence and no words were spoken on the island.  Fifteen or 20 signs posted on the narrow, winding streets reminded the tourists to respect the silence.  The signs are in 4 languages and say things such as “Silence is truth and prayer”, “Silence is music and harmony”, “In the silence, you meet the master.”

Daira wanted to chat and share – and thought the signs were a gimmick for the town to require silence so they wouldn’t be bothered by the loud, vociferous gangs of tourists.  I rather enjoyed the silence.

Island of San Guilio

Island of San Guilio

Daira on the ferry	Bill on the ferry
San Guilio--Island of Silence	San Guilio--Island of Silence

San Guilio--Island of Silence

San Guilio--Island of Silence

When I entered the very silent church, I could tell this place was something special – a strong medieval connection.  One interpretative sign posted below a crudely carved stone knight gave me a big ah-ha.  It said the knight was born on the island in 927 and fought valiantly in the Ottoman war.  Daira and I scurried down some stone stairs to a cellar that was directly below the church’s main pulpit.  In this cellar was a glass casket with a pope-looking figure laid out sporting a gold face mask.  This place was spooky.

San Guilio--inside the church

San Guilio--inside the church

We strolled through the town trying to maintain the monks’ vow to silence, but broke that vow when we stopped in at the one gift shop to say, “Just looking.” 

We took the boat back to Orta for lunch.  We stopped at an outdoor café with the rudest waiter in all of Italy.  We didn’t think we were doing anything wrong, but this dude clearly was not pleased with our presence.  He even removed Bill’s place setting and Bill had the best ordering behavior.  A young gal had to finish our service while the disgruntled waiter sat down with his pals to drink and smoke.  In spite of it all, I enjoyed my lunch which I call Italian Naan with ham, cheese and fresh tomatoes.          

After lunch, we went back to the car.  Daira programmed into Jill (Steve's GPS) our final destination to Varenna on Lake Como.  We had no real backup map and relied totally on Jill.  She was our gal and would call the shots.  We all enjoyed Jill with  her funny pronunciation of Italian streets.  Daira has gotten to know Jill and likes her very much.  Daira said that Jill is so patient with her.

We all knew that Jill was programmed to go the quickest route.  We had told her to put time over distance, so we didn’t mind when she lead us out of the way to the autostrata.  What we didn’t know was that Jill thought it would be quicker to route us way around the lake and take a ferry to our final destination.  She didn’t bother to calculate the ferry schedule or time.  Bill was getting wise to Jill and retrieved a limited paper-based map to see what she was up to.  At 3:30, Jill said we’d be in Varenna by 4:30, but when we stopped at the ferry landing we discovered that the last ferry of the day had already left.

Steve, longing for a beer, was tired of driving on and on in the narrow, windy, hairpin roads with crazy motorcyclists.  However, he accepted the situation and we all took a pit stop, re-programmed Jill to avoid ferries and continued circumnavigating the lake, taking an extra 1½ hours to get “home.” 

On the road to Varenna	Where's the ferry?
Looking across Lake Como	Steve and Daira

We arrived in Varenna, at 6:03 pm, according to Jill.  We all loved Varenna. It’s a town of 800 people with wonderful views of Lake Como.  It has a promenade, a tiny harbor and sweet town square (Piazza San Giorgio) lined with 4 churches (one dating back to the 13th century).  What could be nicer?  Well, one thing could be – the streets could have been a tad wider to accommodate Stevie’s new BMW.  We had to weave our way through the narrowest of streets and up a very scary parking lot before we were “home free.”  Our nerves were shot when we checked in at Hotel Du Lac.  We calmed down right away when we settled into this lovely place.  Our rooms were lovely, with views of Lake Como, the veranda was spectacular with wonderful cold beer served with a tray of free munchies.  Life is good again.

Hotel Du Lac

Hotel Du Lac

Hotel Du Lac--Lake Como	Nancy with her afternoon beer
Still Life	Lake Como

We walked to Osteria Quatro Pass, a lovely “discrete” dinning place (as described in our guide book).  There were only ten tables in a cozy little cave-like atmosphere.  It took a long time for service, and it wasn’t because the waiter was angry at us – he was most friendly.  I had salmon with a simple salad.  We went back to the room, threw back the shutters and gazed out over the panoramic view of the lake and mountains.  The hotel was built 150 years ago when the lake waters came up to the front door.  We listened to the waves lapping up against the flagstone promenade bathed in moonlight -- lovely.

Wednesday, 9/15/10—Lake Como
We had breakfast at Hotel Du Lac and then took the 9:30 ferry to Bellagio.  We tried the self-guided walking tour, but weren’t impressed.  A tree-lined promenade follows the bay, then steep steps shot up into the little town loaded with fancy, ritzy shops and it’s most famous citizen, George Clooney.  With no George Clooney spotting, we got on another ferry for our next stop, Villa Carlotta.

Varenna	Steve looks really perplexed
Bellagio	Bellagio

Bellagio	Bellagio	Bellagio

Leaving Bellagio	Leaving Bellagio
Leaving Bellagio	Leaving Bellagio

Arriving at Villa Carlotta

Villa Carlotta

Lake Como from Villa Carlotta	Bellagio from Villa Carlotta
Gardens at Villa Carlotta	Gardens at Villa Carlotta

We took the ferry to Cadenabbia on the western shore of Lake Como and walked to Villa Carlotta.  The villa is graced with gardens of exotic flowers and shrubs, especially rhododendrons and azaleas.  Although we’d seen better palaces, we still got the picture of how the elite lived back in the 19th century. 

Villa Carlotta

Villa Carlotta

Gardens at Villa Carlotta	Gardens at Villa Carlotta
Gardens at Villa Carlotta	Gardens at Villa Carlotta

We climbed the steps to the entrance looking down at the water fountains and beautiful gardens below.  The estate was built in 1847 and has an elegant Neoclassical interior.  It was named after a Prussian princess, Carlotta, who married a duke and then she died at age 23.  We saw her bedroom and pictures of her.  She looked like a very sweet person.  Her husband, the Duke, was handsome and an intellectual with botany as his specialty.  We oogled at the furniture and bronze clocks.  We were also taken by the artwork.  Our favorite was the painting of the Amazon women slaying the male soldiers – oh so graphic.  There was a prized Antonio Casanova statue – for those of you who care.  Daira liked one especially sensual statue.  I was drawn to a statue of a man with even rows of nails sticking out all over his torso.  I learned that this was used as a teaching aid and the nails served as guides for setting up perspective.

After we filled our minds with art, we headed to the gardens.  We followed the trail map, getting lost only a few times – beautiful terracing.  However, it would have been knock-your-socks-off-eye-popping if the rhododendrons and azaleas were in bloom.  

We had lunch in the garden café and then said good-bye to Villa Carlotta.  We walked to Cadenabbia, the town where Jill lead us astray yesterday.  We took the 3:10 car ferry (without a car) back to Varenna. 

Ferry back to Varenna	Varenna
Varenna	Varenna
They're serious about recycling	Steve used to have a Porsche like this

Daira took pictures of the elaborate system of recycling bins on the ferry landing.   Their grandson, Ethan, gets turned on by garbage trucks and such.  (What we do for our grand kids.)  Steve took some pictures of fancy cars – isn’t a BMW enough? 

We walked down the elegant lakeside promenade (Passerella) which connects the ferry dock with the old town center. Steve and Daira peeled off at the hotel – They had had enough for the day. 

We continued our sightseeing (after a gelato, of course).  We walked south of town and through the terraces of Villa Cipressi and the adjacent grounds of the Villa Monastero.  We learned that in year 1000, a bunch of nuns, fleeing from another island because it was being attacked, stopped here to start a new monastery.  Hundreds of years later, the monastery was closed because the nuns were “too liberal.”  After the liberal nuns left, the place went through lots of hands -- bought for villas.  It was even owned by a wealthy German after the war.  Its current life is a convention center.  I really liked the gardens and the statues and tiled terraces.  We saw a lot of wonderful Roman ruins.  (I also saw a young couple making out behind the bushes – That’s amore!)

We stopped in at the art museum (part of the monastery) and tried to communicate with the docent.  Her English was somewhat limited, our Italian was extremely limited.  There was an interesting exhibition on beds – don’t know the theme.  There was also a series of pictures using pressed, dried herb plants with their roots forming a cross.  Intriguing.

Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero
Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero
Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero
Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero

Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero
Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero
Villa Monastero	Villa Monastero

We walked back through the town and checked out two churches.  In one of the churches (that was no longer a church), a couple of guys were packing up paintings from an art show.  The other church was very much alive.  A priest in fine robes was chatting to an audience of about a dozen old ladies.  They were probably my age – that’s probably the church demographics these days.  What really stood out to me in this church was the scariest carved confessional topped with a series of skulls and bones.

Church in Varenna

Another Church

Church in Varenna

Church in Varenna

We went back to the hotel, gathered up Steve and Daira and had a pizza at the Victorian Hotel.  Our hotel guy said it was the best pizza in town.  He was wrong and the table wine had turned to vinegar – but seating in the old town plaza looking up at the church (of the little old ladies) was the best!

Back to our room and up late writing journal.