Life's a Beach at 'The Lido'

Having visited Venice only a year ago, Jules and I were keen to venture a little wider in our exploration of the island as well as other popular spots close by across the water. On our previous trip we had skirted a number of intriguing looking islands on the way from the airport and were keen to take a closer look this time around. One such place was Lido (more often referred to as ‘The Lido’), the largest of the islands that surround the main island of Venice and one that is so easily accessible by Vaperetto (local waterbus). The island itself is actually a very long thin sandbar that acts like a protective buffer between Venice and the Adriatic Sea, but over the years it has grown into a substantial town that has forged it’s own unique identity. So in mid-August and with 35+ degree temperatures, it didn’t take too much to convince us that a trip on the water to what is essentially a beach resort, would be a very good idea.

After a short boat trip we walked through the most modern Vaperetto Terminal in the Venice area to step into a world that was substantially different than the place we had departed from. No longer were there old crumbling buildings and narrow canals, but rather well kept homes, wide streets and cars! This might not seem particularly unusual, but when you compare it to Venice it was. While traffic had been imported via the ferry from the mainland, it seemed that the preferred mode of transport here was actually bicycles. This gave the town a nice relaxed feel, as they were clearly suited to an island of this size. We however, chose to use foot-power to make our way across to the opposite side of the island to inspect its celebrated white sandy beach (quite unusual for Europe). Here swimming and sunbathing had been taken to a highly organized and business-like level, reminiscent of the shores of Positano. While neat rows of colour matched umbrellas and sunbeds lined one side of the beach, the other side had rows of huts of varying sizes and luxury that were all available for hire. This was totally different from the laise-fare style of beach bathing we were used to in Australia. Obviously Italian sun worshippers were not merely satisfied with the clear waters and sandy beaches, but also desired resort style creature comforts to accompany them and were more than happy to pay for the privilege.

While the water was certainly tempting, we decided to bypass the beach in an effort to seek out one of Venice’s hidden secrets … The Lido Market. Jules had on a previous day asked a local whether there was a regular street market in Venice, only to be assured that there was none to be found. However, this didn’t deter her and she eventually discovered that Lido was the place to go. So after a bit of searching we finally managed to find it on the north-western bank of the island, set quite a distance away from the main part of the town. It was almost as if its location and the lack of information about the market was a cunning ploy to keep the tourists at bay, as there seemed to be very few foreigners to be found. Yet, what they were missing was one of the biggest and best street markets Jules and I had ever seen in Europe. The location was so picturesque and it had a terrific atmosphere, with excited locals stocking shopping bags full with all manner of produce and goods. We too picked up a few things, but in the end we simply couldn’t resist the smell of the spit-roasted chickens. So when the market was all but over, we sat contentedly on the bank that faced back toward Venice happily devouring our chicken accompanied with fresh baked bread … hard to imagine a better lunch!

As we headed away back toward the town, we couldn’t help but notice some of the impressive villas set back from the streets. Lido was certainly a grand old town and it reminded us very much of some of the places we had visited along the French Riviera. Not surprisingly it is often referred to as ‘The Golden Island’ and has over the years developed into a much preferred holiday spot for those who are happy to remain at arms length from the crowds and commercialism of central Venice. It does however attract it’s own audience toward the end of August when film buffs invade Lido for the annual Venice Film Festival, which remains the longest running and one of the most prestigious in the world. In a couple of weeks the festivities would all start again with George Clooney in town to launch his latest movie, so no doubt Jules would have liked to have stayed a whole lot longer!

Lido had proved to be quite a surprise in many ways; such a contrast to the familiar scenes of Venice, to be found just a kilometer or so across the water. We thought that if we ever returned to this part of the world again we would certainly consider staying here, as it seemed to offer something just that little bit different. Enjoying yet another day of glorious summer weather, it had certainly been the perfect place to spend our last full day in Italy and it had provided us with yet another truly memorable experience. It is not surprising that the term ‘Lido’ had become a byword for the relaxed lifestyle of a watery resort, but as Jules and I found out, it turns out ‘The Lido’ is a whole lot more than that!

Palace of Creativity at the Venice Biennale

Given the decision of whether to spend our final few days in Italy in either Rome or Venice, the choice wasn’t difficult. Having avoided Venice previously because we believed it was a tourist trap, we had recently become enthusiastic converts having finally discovered it just a year ago. It turned out that Venice actually was a tourist trap after all, but oh what a trap! This city is so wonderfully unique that it simply can’t be resisted and so once again we were more than happy to take the bait. There was also another important reason for visiting once again and that was because this was the year of the renowned ‘Venice Biennale’. Occurring on every odd numbered year, this major exhibition attracts the world’s foremost contemporary artists and in the world of visual art it simply doesn’t get much bigger than this. As an art teacher, the Biennale is something that is generally read about but seldom experienced first hand, so the opportunity for me to visit would certainly be an added bonus.

With its origins dating back to 1895, the Venice Biennale has continued to evolve and now involves numerous countries from throughout the world presenting works based upon a selected theme. The theme of this years Biennale was ‘Palazzo Enciclopedico’ (The Encyclopedic Palace) ... “the desire to know and understand everything, a desire that recurs throughout the history of art” and not surprisingly the interpretation of that theme would vary enormously as we were to discover. With each country displaying their contribution in either the central exhibition halls or in their own purpose built pavilions spread over two sites, the exhibition would take many hours to view. So Jules and I prepared ourselves for a very big day and joined one of the queues that form early each day throughout the duration the Biennale (June to November), resulting in an attendance that regularly tops 300,000.

We began in The Giardini (The Gardens), which provided a leafy environment quite unlike anywhere else in Venice. Here, set amongst the trees is the large Central Pavilion as well as 30 other permanent national pavilions, each different in size and design. The grounds were spacious and on a warm summers day Jules and I enjoyed just wandering between venues in anticipation of what the next country might have to offer. Of course we patriotically sought out the Australian pavilion and while being a little confused about the work on display, we were particularly impressed by the contemporary nature of the exhibition space itself, complete with a retractable roof. We were also interested in the way each country chose to mount their exhibition. Some presented several artists who each interpreted the theme, while others simply chose to display only one large-scale work. Several other pieces combined elements of performance, with other works encouraging the interactivity of the viewer. Jules became involved with an installation by Russian artist Vadim Zakharov that consisted of a shower of gold coins falling three storeys high through the floors of the pavilion to the basement below to form a large pile of money on the ground. From here, only woman viewers (this is were Jules comes in) were invited to pick up a handful of the coins and place them into a bucket to be manually cranked back up by a man to the top so that the coins could shower down once again. Fortunately an umbrella was provided so that Jules could avoid being stoned to death by the force of the falling coins but otherwise it was all good fun, visually interesting and somehow managed to combine a vaguely cryptic social message.

Later we would head over to the second major site at The Arsenale (the original Venetian arsenal built in the 12th century) where the creative output continued. Here the works on display were even more adventurous with several exhibits combining film and audiovisual elements that often jarred our senses. While many of these were popular, we much preferred the more contemplative pieces such as those displayed in the Indonesian pavilion (their first ever contribution to the Biennale) that included a mystical piece by Albert Yonathan Setyawan entitled ‘Cosmic Labyrinth: The Silent Path’. Here under subdued lighting, a simple ceramic form had been repeated then positioned on the floor to create a visually evocative sculptural installation that perfectly reflected both its culture of origin and the title of the piece. Jules on the other hand was drawn to the sight and aroma of the floor installation of Sonia Falcona in the Latin American pavilion entitled ‘Campo de Color’, that consisted of hundreds of clay pots filled with colourful spices. I also particularly enjoyed viewing all 50 chapters of the ‘The Book of Genesis’ by Robert Crumb (one of my illustrative heroes) and I had to admire the way in which he tackled such an unlikely subject matter, taking him four years to complete the illustrations.

We had begun the day at 10.00am and walked out of the final pavilion at 6.00pm … it had been a marathon day, but one that was quite unforgettable. Like most art exhibitions, you are not expected to like all of the works that you encounter. Each has its own individual resonance and that’s what makes viewing contemporary art such a fascinating experience. The art works that we had viewed throughout the day had impressed us, inspired us, amused us, unsettled us, shocked us, entertained us and confused us, but they certainly didn’t disappoint. I had written copious notes on a small pad and had taken many photographs (it’s wonderful that the Biennale allows you to do that), so there was plenty for me to take away from the experience and eventually share with my students. The Venice Biennale had been a celebration of creativity that I was thankful to have experienced at least once.

A Pilgrimage of Faith and Food

Umbria is a fascinating region of Italy that continues to attract visitors from all over the world for all sorts of reasons. For Jules and myself, it was its inescapable beauty and of course its great food and wine, but for others a journey to Umbria is much more of a religious pilgrimage. Indeed, the Christian faith here remains one of the most potent symbols of the region, evident in its incredible number of churches and its wealth of paintings and frescoes created during the peak period of the Renaissance. Of course, in the end all these factors begin to somehow overlap once you visit some of its major towns. Whether you are a Christian or not, you cannot fail to be impressed by its aesthetic contribution to the arts, while the link to the religion of gastronomy is also pretty hard to avoid. This was certainly our impression when we visited two of the more famous sacred towns of Umbria located not too far away from our home-base of Spoleto.

Assisi was about a 45 minute train ride away and offered us an opportunity to visit one of the prettiest and most significant religious towns in the country. As the birthplace of St. Francis and home of the Franciscan Order that he founded, Assisi is regarded as the most visited Catholic site outside of the Vatican. Upon our arrival we could see the old township of Assisi sitting high on the hill, distinguishable by the rows of arches that form the Basilica. In 1997 the walled city was hit by two devastating earthquakes, causing considerable damage to its historic buildings, requiring much repair work to be done in the preceding years. As we entered through the giant arches and made our way up the hill, we could clearly see the dedicated efforts of artisans in bringing the town back to its former glory. While the restoration is impeccable, we thought that it had tended to take away much of the patina of age, giving the town an almost ‘theme park’ quality. This feeling was further accentuated when we caught sight of coach loads of visitors descending upon the town and with that, the inevitable array of tourist stores that line its streets.

I’m not quite sure what the collective word for nuns is … Google suggested a flap of nuns, a convert of nuns, a gaggle of nuns and even a Whoopi of nuns! Whatever it is, there certainly seemed to be a lot of nuns in town visiting the various sites. It’s was clearly apparent that in the world of saints, St. Francis was indeed a superstar, attracting many faithful followers through his love of nature and animals. However, he is actually only one of the seven saints associated with Assisi, so there was plenty here to attract the nuns. Groups wearing the habit of their denomination could be seen wandering the streets throughout the town, admiring the churches, soaking up the history and picking up the odd souvenir. While we didn’t linger quite as long, Jules and I also weaved our way through the lanes, working our way upward to eventually reach the medieval castle called Rocca Maggiori. From this imposing building we were rewarded with the best vantage point to admire the town and the beautiful surrounding countryside.

Like most Umbrian towns, Assisi prides itself upon its homemade pasta, locally produced olive oil and truffles. There are also some particularly nice locally made wines and beers. However, the Franciscan monks have generally been reluctant to get themselves too involved in its production, leaving that enterprise to the Benedictine monks down the road in the nearby town of Norcia. Here, in the birthplace of St. Benedict, the monks have long been supported by their production of wine and beer and over the years they have developed some rather refined skills in that area. More recently they established a commercial brewery to produce a beer called ‘Birra Nursia’ that continues this centuries old tradition. In the name of research, we managed to sample a drop over lunch and it was certainly comparable with the best Belgian beers.

Norcia is much smaller than Assisi and has nowhere near the tourist traffic. It is located in a beautifully picturesque hilly location, which was easily accessible to Jules and I by bus. While for some a pilgrimage here means a visit to the birthplace of the Benedictine Order, for Jules it was the lure of the town’s reputation for cheese and pork products. The area is also well known for the quality of its truffles and the hunting of wild boar, which eventually finds its way into prized sausages and salami. The products produced here are so popular that they are shipped far and wide, providing a very sustainable industry for the towns folk. In fact the two major laneways in the old town are lined with little shops referred to as ‘Norciarias’ that are crammed with cured meat products hanging from their rafters and the overwhelming smell of cheese emanating into the streets.

In the centre of the town is the main piazza where a statue of St. Benedict takes pride of place and at one stage, we stepped into the town hall where several photos from the 1800’s reveal how little the town had actually changed over the years. I imagine that going back even further it would have looked pretty much the same as it did in the 13th century when the original monastery was first built and indeed why should it change! This is a sleepy little town with long established routines and traditions providing a lifestyle that would be difficult to improve upon. From the point of view of outsiders such as us, it seemed that the town’s folk had managed to get it right a long time ago. They had recognized that the secret to a good life could be found by simply providing sustenance for the spirit and for the stomach and who can argue with that!

A Close Shave in Spoleto

If you have to shave, you can’t beat a shave from an Italian barber! This is something that Jules has heard me say often over and over. However, I must admit that the statement was actually based upon my one and only experience of having my then youthful stubble shaved by an old Italian barber back in Adelaide over 35 years ago. This satisfying and somewhat precarious experience with the cut-throat razor was so memorable that I have been espousing the qualities of the Italian barbering profession ever since. This all came to mind once again when we were walking through the market square of Spoleto and spied a traditional Italian barber shop or ‘barbiere’ as they are called in Italy. Here was the perfect opportunity for me to once again experience the deft hand of a master barber and hopefully confirm what I have been spouting about for all these years.

After a few days of cultivating my now graying stubble, I was all ready to tackle the ‘big shave’ when Jules and I headed into town to visit the local barbiere. Jules was there to not only see what all the fuss was about, but to help with the Italian language, as mine can only be described as rubbish! However as she soon found out, she was about to set foot into one of the few strictly male domains left in town. As we walked into the shop, it was like stepping back into the 1950’s with a couple of old-fashioned barber chairs placed on a decoratively patterned terrazzo floor. In one of the chairs there was an older gentleman having the finishing snips to his haircut by the elderly barber, who was immaculately presented in the white coat of his profession. Along the back wall was a row of low-slung tubular steel chairs in which a couple of similarly older men were reading their newspapers. As we parted the string tassels that hung over the doorway, everything appeared to stop. Newspapers were lowered as it became clear that not only was this new customer a stranger to town, but he was also accompanied by a woman!!

With all ears listening, Jules explained in Italian that the scruffy looking character standing alongside her was actually her husband who desperately needed a shave. With a half smile, the barber pointed to the waiting chairs and said ‘un momento’. At this stage I thought that it might take quite a bit longer than a minute considering that there were two other customers also waiting, but I was wrong. It seems that the old guys reading their newspapers were actually just in the shop to hangout, get away from their wives and/or generally observe the comings and goings of the town. A foreigner visiting the barbiere seemed quite amusing to them and would obviously provide something different to talk about over the pasta at lunch.

With the previous customer completed and the necessary small talk over, it was now my turn step up. However, I had forgotten that here they were running on Italian time, where everything appears to work in slow and casual motions. So as I waited, there was a leisurely sweep of the floor, careful dusting of the chair and a timely re-organising of the tools of the trade, all done at a pace that belies the fast paced world that most non-Italians now live. For me this was somewhat reassuring, as I sensed that the same slow and careful approach might also be applied to the use of the cut-throat razor and that was fine by me! All in good time I found myself sitting back in the chair and having my face lathered up with a soft hog hair shaving brush to form a thick foamy beard. Then with the raise of an arm, much like a conductor would do when about to signal the initial notes of a symphony, he began. After the first few swipes of the razor I could clearly tell that here was a professional at work. The angle of the blade, the steadiness of hand and the lack of hesitation suggested years of experience. My stubbly bristles were quickly erased as he confidently maneuvered his way around the contours of my face with the sharpest of blades in hand. With a final soothing balm applied, it was all over and as I felt the smoothness of my chin, it felt just as smooth as I had remembered it from all those years ago.

While it had been a little intimidating at first, the barber and his customers had quickly gathered that we were visiting his little shop as a gesture of admiration for his skills and they were very patient to indulge our curiosity. Although our Italian small talk was somewhat limited, we were gushingly complementary to him for his handiwork … bellissimo! He in turn had asked where we were from … ‘Australia’ we replied … ‘ah Australia’ he said, although it probably could have been Mars as far as he was concerned. Anywhere outside the ancient walls of Spoleto would likely seem like another world to him. While I would have liked to explain to him about my motivation for visiting, it would have been undoubtedly lost in translation. So in the end I will just have to be satisfied in being able to reiterate to anyone who’ll listen … you simply can’t beat a shave from an Italian barber!

Our House in Umbria

In 2003, author William Trevor published a novella called ‘My House in Umbria’ that was later produced into a tele-movie staring Maggie Smith. The film was highly successful and received a host of Emmy awards. However more significantly, the spin-off from all this publicity was that it suddenly resulted in a much greater awareness of Umbria. Up until then this relatively small region of Italy had tended to be overlooked, being somewhat overshadowed by nearby Tuscany, which had provided the idyllic setting for so many popular books and movies. The fact is that Umbria was always just as picturesque as Tuscany and to anyone other than the Italians, it had tended to remain a hidden treasure. Having spent a little time in Tuscany a few years ago, we were now keen to discover a little bit more about Umbria for ourselves. So Jules set about finding a little house where we could base ourselves while exploring the region and also allow us to experience just a taste of Umbrian life.

The most obvious choice was the regional capital of Umbria, Perugia. As we were to discover later, it is a very picturesque old town that sits high on a hill, with an impressive array of grand buildings and chapels overlooking the beautiful Umbrian countryside. Its central piazza is wide and impressive with a large central fountain in the centre that looks much like a very large wedding cake. Perugia is essentially a university town that attracts students from all around the world and as a result it is quite large with more modern suburbs stretching out from its centre. While it certainly had some appeal, we thought that it might be a little too big for us and as it turned out it was. We were looking for a town that was smaller, a little more intimate and with the original classical architectural features you would expect in this part of the world but with some of the more modern conveniences. Somewhere that was a bit like us … with a love for good food, fine wine and a healthy appreciation for the arts … in other words, the perfect Italian town! Not surprisingly, Jules with her exhaustive research managed to find just such a place … Spoleto!

Having selected the town, the next trick was trying to find the best place to stay. Fortunately Jules managed to find a little gem! Set on several acres and tucked away on the hillside overlooking the town was a rustic little house that was simply advertised as an ‘artists retreat’. From here we could enjoy the stunning views and find a touch of isolation in the Italian countryside, while still being within easy walking distance to the town … perfetto! It was only shortly before our arrival that we learnt a little more about the significance of this particular house which would further add to its appeal. It turns out that it had once been the residence of the celebrated American abstract artist Sol LeWitt who had moved to Italy during the 1980’s. He had clearly been attracted to this town not only for its beauty but also by its progressive acceptance to modern art. During the early 1960’s another great artist Alexander Calder had set the trend by building and donating an enormous sculptural piece entitled ‘Teodelapio’, which still stands like a large black sentinel in front of the railway station. Later in 1967 the progressive American designer Buckminster Fuller also visited to supervise the construction of what he called the ‘Spoletosphere’, which was a work based upon his theories of geodesic dome construction. Over the years many other modern sculptures have appeared in and around the town, often providing a stunning contrast to the backdrop of classical renaissance architecture. Of course Spoleto’s association with the arts has not just been limited to the fine arts and it certainly was way ahead of it’s time during the 1950’s in establishing a world renowned music festival that still continues to draw big crowds to this day.

So it was with much anticipation that we finally arrived in Spoleto in the height of summer, although you wouldn’t have known it looking at the green shades of the countryside. The house and the town was everything that we had imagined. Both had the type of character and beauty that only seems to come with age and having witnessed numerous significant passages of history. The elevated views of the town were quite something, as were the outlooks provided by the walking trails at the back of the house that took us up through the woods to the tiny town of Monteluca. Another well worn track led us down toward Spoleto itself, where we would cross the 13th century aqueduct (an engineering marvel in itself) and past the imposing Rocco Albornoziana Fortress, both of which look particularly evocative at night under lights.

In the town the excitement of its annual music festival had subsided and life was now settling back into its regular laid back mode. At this time of year there were far fewer tourists and those who did come were quite happy to just marvel at its celebrated frescoes or wander the streets photographing the many picturesque laneways. For Jules the attraction was, as always, the food. There was an outstanding range of restaurants where the local pasta specialty ‘strangozzi’ could be washed down with a deep red Sagrantino wine from nearby Montefalco. She particularly enjoyed the freshly carved ‘porchetta’ on baked bread, as well the overwhelming selection of cured meats. This is also the home of the prized black truffle, which seemed to be added to just about every dish, much like we would use salt or pepper. Naturally the gelati also figured prominently during our many walks around the town, although we never did manage to work our way through all the flavours.

Some days we wouldn’t even leave the house, but would be quite satisfied to just live the life of ‘would be Italians’. Inspired by freshly bought produce and some newfound knowledge about cooking truly authentic Italian dishes, Jules would enthusiastically take to the kitchen. I on the other hand, would head for the garden to paint, inspired by both the setting and the creative energy that the house itself provided. Our time in Spoleto would be all too brief, only three weeks, but so eminently memorable. We will no doubt reminisce about the time we spent here for many years to come and I suspect that we will not be able to resist the temptation of referring to the place in which we stayed as ‘our house in Umbria’.

Capri and Cool Breezes

While there is no doubt that the Amalfi Coast has one of the most spectacular coastlines in the world, it’s really all about the water! So clear and the colour of Persian Blue, everyone who visits in the heat of summer are overcome with the immediate urge to either get in it, get on it or enjoy the cool breezes that come off it! Along the coast, thousands crowd tiny beaches while slightly off shore, hundreds of boats take to the water to enjoy Amalfi’s waters. We had already been out to sea once since arriving, but we were keen to find another excuse to further enjoy the Mediterranean, so what better way than to take the boat over to the renowned island of Capri that lay just over 30 minutes away.

Having been on board quite a tiny craft a few days before, we were quite surprised by the size of the boat that would be taking us over to the island. Clearly its large capacity was an indication of the amount of people that normally head over to Capri during the summer months, so we began to brace ourselves for the type of tourist onslaught that is normally reserved for major Italian holiday hotspots. Fortunately, in the end the boat was well below capacity by the time we departed Positano, so we could position ourselves nicely along the gunwale to enjoy the views and of course the cooling sea breezes. As we powered along, we skirted the three small rugged looking islands collectively called ‘Li Galli’ that apparently have a history dating back to ancient times. It was here that mythical sirens were said to lure sailors with their beauty and lilting voices, causing boats to be shipwrecked onto the rocks. More recently the islands have became famous for being once owned by Rudolf Nureyev, proving that not only was he a great ballet dancer, but also had a keen eye for breathtaking real estate.

As we approached Capri, I must admit to being slightly under whelmed. Despite its reputation as one of the playgrounds of the rich and famous, it provided nowhere near the same visual impact of Positano and other towns along the Amalfi coast. When I made this remark to Jules she reminded me that what I was actually looking at was the port and the real town of Capri was to be found high up in the hills above. The port itself was all that we were expecting with hordes of tourists and tacky souvenir shops. Queues seemed to be everywhere … for the funicular heading up the hill, for novel open-top taxis, for tiny buses that tour the island, for boat trips to the famed ‘Blue Grotto’ and for other boats heading back on the water to get away from all the chaos.

As recently experienced hikers, we thought that we might provide the exception to the rule by actually getting to the town of Capri by following the 20-minute walking trail that leads you up the hill. Amazingly, we were pretty much by ourselves! So by the time the other visitors below had reached the head of their queues, we were already there, a little puffed but fitter for the experience. Just as it was below, the town was very busy but to be fair, it was a whole lot nicer. There was clearly a touch of sophistication here with narrow alleys filled with quaint Italian buildings converted into all manner of high end shopping. Restaurants were abound, each proudly displaying photographs of the various high profile celebrities who had previously dined there. Considered to be somewhat of a fashion centre, Capri boasts an extensive range of boutiques for the style conscious, as long as you are prepared to wear either white, off white or a pale shade of beige as these colours seem to be the official uniform of the well healed.

Like many such places we have visited in the past, Capri had everything but seemed to lack something! It was like looking into a glossy picture book world that wasn’t quite real ... a little too manufactured for our liking. What we thought might suit us better would be the nearby Anacapri, only a short distance away. This is often unfairly considered to be the down market version of Capri and over the years has tended to live in the shadow of its more famous neighbor. So being a little too far to walk, we boarded a bus for one of the most hair raising 10 minute trips of our lives. With narrow winding roads traversing steep cliffs and with an almost vertical drop below, there were quite a few audible gasps from the passengers. It seemed that disaster was imminent with every turn, possibly resulting in a repeat of the final scene from the movie ‘The Italian Job’ … but somehow we made it!

Anacapri had a totally different atmosphere from where we had just been. It was much smaller, with far less crowds and was decidedly less pretentious. We sensed that in all the hype that revolved around Capri, such smaller towns had all but been forgotten, yet as a community they were desperately trying to jump on board the tourist bandwagon having seen its obvious economic benefits. It was quiet and gentle in comparison; an ideal place for a gelato and a pleasant stroll before heading back to the chaos of the port.

Indeed by the time we had made it back by late afternoon, the scene was even more manic than we had experienced earlier. Day-trippers such as us were by now all converging back to the boats and clambering to get themselves back to the mainland. So there was a slight sense of relief when our boat (much fuller than when we arrived) finally upped anchor and began to set sea bound for Positano. It had been an interesting and enjoyable visit, despite all the crowds. Jules and I were glad to have experienced Capri, as it is one of those much talked about places that we felt had to be seen. As we bounced along on the afternoon swell, holding our hats and admiring the coastal view as our boat pushed into the wind, we knew that this was one of those travel episodes that would remembered as much for the trip as the destination.

The Walk of the Gods

I’m not sure whether it’s our recent desire to experience the great outdoors or the thought of those extra kilos we have put on while tasting the local cuisine, but Jules and I have found ourselves doing quite a bit of hiking of late. We are certainly not seasoned trail blazers by any means, but the challenge of a good climb, the possibility of some scenic views and the promise of a beer at the end is normally enough to get us interested. Such was the case when Jules suggested that we might like to tackle the much talked about trek from Positano (via Nocelle) to Bomerano, which goes by the intriguing title of ‘The Walk of the Gods’. Now, we have both been traveling long enough to be a little wary of grand titles given to certain walking trails … sometime the hype can overshadow the actual trek. However, as we had already experienced some of the breathtaking views from the cliff tops overlooking the Amalfi coast, we looked forward to this particular walk in anticipation of the amazing sights it might offer.

With seemingly endless days of 30+ degree temperatures, we knew that we would have to begin the walk quite early in the day … a feat easier said than done when you’ve slipped into holiday mode! However, with the mountains above Positano still in shadows, we began the initial climb to Nocelle. We had been warned that this part of the walk would possibly be the most testing, as it consisted of a very steep series of steps winding up the cliff face. Well, when I say a ‘series’ of steps, what I really mean is an ‘awful lot’ of steps! It was a few days later, with our muscles still feeling the pain, that we found out that the actual total number of steps covering the 400 metres upward was over 1700! It took us 45 minutes and was a very testing way to begin. So with a certain degree of satisfaction, we sat down for a minute in a small piazza in Nocello, guzzling water and looking back down toward Positano that sat far below.

Our initial plan for the 7 kilometre walk was to see how we felt after an hour or two and if the going was getting too tough, we would simply turn back, but having come this far we just knew we would have to press on. Although we weren’t right at the top of the mountain range we were pretty close, on a trail that seemed to thread its way along the very edge of its rocky ridges. Occasionally the track would dip back into dark leafy valleys then emerge once again to reveal spectacular views of the Amalfi coastline and beyond. Gradually we began to see more walkers, but they were all heading in the opposite direction than us! It seemed that they might have been more aware of those steps from Positano to Nocelle than we had been and had chosen for the more favorable down hill option to finish their journey rather than at the start.

As we pressed on, we came across the occasional deserted stone ‘rustico’ and wondered whether some folks might have been totally seduced by such an amazing outlook, only to forget about the problems associated with inaccessibility of the location. True, the views did seem to get better and better the further we progressed and we could well see the temptation to build up there. Even when the trail turned inland on the final stretch, we could see evidence of small dwellings carved into the cliff face itself, looking like something straight from the days of the ancient Aztecs. Those who had somehow managed to eke out an existence at these lofty heights had over the years carved staggered tiers into the hillsides on which grapes, olives, lemons and corn seemed happy to grow.

After four hours of walking and a little leg weary, Jules and I finally wandered into Bomerano. Unlike the tourist towns down by the coast, this was by comparison a sleepy little place. It was well into lunchtime by now and most of the businesses were closed. All was quiet except for a few old men sitting on chairs in the piazza, discussing life as Italian men do, while watching the young men set up what looked like a small performance stage for the evenings entertainment. Jules and I bypassed them all and headed straight to the pub to enjoy the coldest glass of Peroni Beer we could buy … boy, did it taste good! With drinks in hand we also took up a seat overlooking the piazza to observe the scene and to contemplate our hiking achievement.

As we savored our icy cold drinks, we observed other venturers preparing to tackle the trek in the reverse direction. By now the heat of the day had well and truly settled in and although we didn’t envy what they were about to physically endure, we knew that they would be amply rewarded for their efforts, as we had been for ours. ‘The Walk of the Gods’ had well and truly lived up to its grand name and reputation as one of Italy’s great walks. However, at this point we were more than happy to conveniently take the bus back to Positano where it had all began.

The Captain & The Coast of Amalfi

With anticipation and a touch of car sickness, we finally arrived in Positano. It was so good to leave the grime and congestion of Naples behind us and to break out into the countryside to eventually catch sight of the spectacular coastline of the Amalfi coast. Even though the narrow winding roads had some effect on Jules’ stomach, she was more than pleased that getting there had gone so smoothly. The place she had chosen for us to stay was not in Positano itself, but sat high on the cliffs facing the picturesque township, so it appeared to us daily much as it does on countless post cards, only better!

It was of course the height of summer, so we were anticipating huge crowds when we eventually made it into town. However, to our surprise it was relatively quiet, as foreign and Italian visitors alike had by that time taken up their position on the neatly lined rows of sun beds along the beach and most of the charter boats had already set off for the day. So, while local restaurants prepared their tables for the lunch time trade and the local shops owners hung out there tourist tempting trinkets, Jules and I wandered around the narrow streets taking it all in. It is hard to imagine such a picturesque coastal spot, with pastel coloured buildings staggering their way up the cliffs to overlook the azure waters of the Mediterranean. Having provided a backdrop to such movies as ‘The Talented Mr. Ripley’ and ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’, Positano has developed a worldwide reputation as the place to visit to experience a true Italian summer.

With memories of driving the coastal roads still fresh in our minds, we decided that the only way to see the rest of the Amalfi coast was by water. So the next day we booked ourselves onto one of the many smaller charter boats that head down the coast daily for a touch of swimming, sightseeing, eating and drinking… all the ingredients for a perfect day! Our tiny wooden boat was captained by Salvatore, an old Italian seafarer who was as tanned as an old sandal and with a cheeky sense of humor that comes with having one of the best jobs in the world! As we chugged along the coast, Salvatore would regale us with tales about the various coastal features and significant buildings we were seeing along the way. When he wasn’t doing that, he was handing out drinks or entertaining us with his repertoire of classic Italian songs. When he sensed that we were getting a little hot, he would drop anchor at a picturesque spot so that we could cool off in the crystal clear waters. One of these stops was at a secret ‘grotto’ where we could swim inside a cave to view the jade green waters. This spot was nowhere near as famous as the ‘Blue Grotto’ on nearby Capri, but it also didn’t have the tourist traffic either, so we could totally enjoy the experience alone.

Although we had been slowly meandering down the coast, it was early afternoon by the time we reached the actual town of Amalfi. This was quite a bit larger than Positano with a harbour bustling with boats, coaches and cars transporting tourists to and from the various scenic spots surrounding this famous town. It all seemed a little too hectic for us and at that point we knew we had made the right choice in basing ourselves near Positano. Salvatore also thought it was a bit too busy and as he was starting to think about lunch, he chose to turn the boat around and head back a little way up the coast to a tiny spot called Santa Croce Beach. Here we would enjoy a wonderfully traditional Italian meal complete with enough courses to see most of our small band of fellow sailors strung out on the deck like beached whales for the return journey home.

Today’s lunch was indeed bigger than normal with the addition of yet another course to the menu compliments of Salvatore, who had managed to catch a large fish (around 3 foot long) earlier in the morning and had brought it to the chef to cook and share. While each course just kept on coming, Salvatore managed to pace himself nicely, after all he was used to such banquet meals, indulging in them almost daily. In between explaining various dishes, how to eat the large local lemons and introducing himself to fellow diners, he managed a few mouthfuls of each course, then nicely broke it up with a glass of vino. This probably explains why he was in such fine singing voice on the way home as he stood at the stern of the boat steering the rudder with his foot. He had clearly had yet another great day and so had we!

In Captain Salvatore’s little wooden boat we had experienced all that the Amalfi coast had to offer compacted into just one day. Through his conviviality, the scenery and the sea air (not to mention the food and wine) Jules and I had momentarily tasted ‘La Dolce Vita’ and I’ve got to say it wasn’t half bad! It may sound a little cliché, but there is something in this intoxicating mix that repeatedly entices Italians, foreigners and romantics of the world back here each summer.

On the Streets of Pompeii

Touching down in Naples, Jules and I could see the hazy, yet unmistakable silhouette of Mt. Vesuvius looming large on the distant horizon. Below on the foothills that led down to the ocean there were thousands of houses and apartments of the city, whose comparative scale only further accentuated the overwhelming presence of the dormant volcano. Over the years the local population and the giant mountain have somehow managed to co-exist and despite the various eruptions recorded throughout history (the most recent being in 1944), the local Napolese have always returned to the area in the knowledge that such events were relatively few and far between. However, to see first hand the destruction caused by molten lava, ash and poisonous gases you need go no further than the cities most popular tourist attraction … Pompeii.

Jules had stretched the budget for a driver to take us from Naples to Positano and as we would be passing Pompeii along the way, we asked if we could make a small detour in order to visit this much celebrated archeological site. While we first imagined that the ancient Roman city would be well away from the major populated areas, we eventually discovered that it was actually just off the local freeway and surrounded by suburbs. However, once we had exited the motorway, the proliferation of concrete constructions quickly gave way to a large green belt that much better suited the type of environment that might have existed there over 3000 years ago.

Once we entered Pompeii itself and opened up our map, we began to appreciate the scale of the original city. We could see that in its day this was quite a place, complete with bustling streets, thriving businesses, venues for public gatherings and homes representing various status in Roman society. It seemed quite incredible that a township of this size could have been suddenly covered by metres of volcanic ash on that fateful day in 79 AD and then managed to lay totally undiscovered until the 1700’s. Even the name of the original city had almost been totally forgotten with the passing of time. Today, the archeological dig still continues, with only three quarters of the site excavated and several large areas remaining roped off to the public.

Jules and I had entered through the Porta Marina (the original town gate) and then worked our way up the hill toward the ancient city to eventually arrive at ‘The Forum’, which was once the spacious main square of Pompeii. From here we headed down the main street as Romans once did in ancient times. It was fascinating to still see the grooves and ruts worn into the flagstone road as a result of years of use by horse drawn chariots. We also noticed the large stepping-stones used by town’s folk to cross the street in order to avoid getting their sandals wet when the roads were regularly flooded.

With limited time we darted around to some of the most popular venues in town during Romans times. We were more than impressed with the Amphitheatre that once seated 20,000 people and the Great Theatre, where the greatest actors and entertainers of the day would have performed. As we sat high up in this semi-circled arena enjoying a cooling breeze, a couple of patriotic Canadian tourists stood in the centre of the stage and burst into their national anthem, proving to us all the amazing acoustic qualities of this space. Of more historical significance was that here was where emperor Julius Caesar was murdered by his Roman senators on the ‘Ides of March’ (March 15) in 44 BC, a date that would remain poignant throughout history and often quoted as a date to ‘beware’ in Shakespeare’s famous play.

While the hot sun continued to beat down on the ancient streets, we both wandered around and imagined what life might have been like during these times. A visit to the Bath House revealed some amazing architectural features and relief sculptures while the ‘House of the Faun’, (so named because of the bronze statue of a dancing faun found in a central water feature) provided an indication of how the more wealthy residents of the city might have lived in their day. Of course there were also several plaster cast remnants of some of the poor souls who lost their lives on that eventful day, further humanizing the impact of the great eruption.

In the end, we were not at all surprised that Pompeii remains one of the most visited archeological sites in the world. More than any textbook or museum, the ruins provided us with a wonderful insight into the daily life of regular people during those ancient times. While our stay was all too short, we had managed to cover quite a bit of ground although to be fair, even a full day wouldn’t have fully done it justice. There was so much that had managed to be preserved and so many small details to be discovered. These streets had witnessed such a tumultuous event, but through the devastation a unique time capsule had somehow been revealed.

A Night at the Opera in Verona

The mention of the town of Verona conjures up a range of Shakespearian images based around one of ‘The Bards’ most famous productions, ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Certainly it’s pretty hard not to miss the connection when you visit this pretty northern Italian town with its continued tourist geared references. Of course, there remains continued speculation as to whether William Shakespeare actually visited the town all those years ago, but he used it as the setting for his tragic play and that seems to be enough.

There is of course the famed Juliet balcony in the centre of town that, from what we can gather, has absolutely nothing to do with anything Shakespearian but rather it seems to be an idyllic stone balcony that roughly matches the public’s image of what might be the perfect setting for the lovers’ famed soliloquy. Much hype is placed around this particular location with the heavily graffitied walls at the entrance, suggesting that floods of couples have previously made their way here in order to pledge their enduring love. Even the lovelorn seem to have been catered for, with a post box provided in which they can post messages to ‘Juliet’, seeking advice of the heart. Much like a letter to Santa Claus, I’m not quite sure where these letters actually go or who answers them, but there appeared to be plenty of people regularly pinning their hopes on the consolatory words she provides.

Of course, Verona has much more to offer, not the least being it’s wonderful medieval architecture that in many cases has been cleaned and restored (very little graffiti here). During our stay we spent many hours simply walking around the backstreets, taking photographs and imagining what life must have been like when these buildings were originally built. In the end, Jules acclaimed it as one of the most picturesque Italian cities we had visited, which is particularly high praise indeed as she has quite an extensive list of favourites. With many ‘osterias’ and ‘trattorias’ to be found in the narrow streets, there was also plenty of opportunities for us to sample local food and wine, as well as the popular ‘Spritz’ (prosecco and Aperol with a slice of orange), which seemed to be the aperitif of choice amongst the locals.

The particular weekend we were in Verona, we were lucky enough to experience one of its most popular attractions, the summer opera season. This is held open air in the ancient Roman coliseum in the centre of town. The crumbling structure is impressive enough, but as a setting for some of the world’s greatest opera productions, it is enough to bring droves of opera buffs from far and wide to experience the event in its truly unique setting. Jules was organized as usual and managed to secure our tickets for the Egyptian spectacle of ‘Aida’, directed and conducted by the legendary Placido Domingo. This would be our first experience of live opera and it would be difficult to imagine a more fitting location for our baptism. As expected, the production was truly remarkable visual spectacular, although to be honest, we weren’t too sure what was actually happening most of the time. What we did begin to realise after a while that the production was very, very long (almost 4 hours) and our powers of endurance was certainly going to be tested. Sitting high in the arena, on the same tiered stone steps that toga wearing citizens had once watched gladiators in action centuries ago, it began to eventually take its toll and well after midnight we hobbled out of the arena like a couple of old cowboys, satisfied by what we had experienced, but somewhat worse for wear. While we headed straight back to our room for a well earned rest on our delightfully soft bed, seasoned opera buffs (clearly in the more expensive padded seats) were heading out for their evening (or very early morning) meal and to no doubt recount the wonderful performance they had witnessed well into the early hours of a new day.

Verona would be our final town on this trip to Italy and it had certainly delivered on all fronts. The sights, the language, the food, the vino, the people … all bellisimo! As a taxi driver once reminded us, it isn’t all perfect, but overall it’s pretty good! Our stay had again reminded us what a wonderfully diverse country Italy is and why it continues to have such appeal for those of us from different cultures. No doubt this trip has continued to fuel Jules’ desire to become an officially adopted Italian and we'll take away plenty of great memories, let alone countless photos to continually remind us of our extraordinary experiences of ‘la dolce vita in bella Italia’!

Walking the Porticos of Bologna

Following a short train trip from Milan (approx 1 hour), we arrived in Bologna. Jules had particularly chosen this town as she had read of its reputation as one of the major food centres of Italy and the chance to experience the best of local dining and produce was simply too hard to ignore. To be honest, in the end it didn’t really live up to all the hype, as tends to happen with most of these things. Sure, there were some terrific food and produce shops, with a wide array of cheese and meats, but no less impressive than the offerings of our very own Central Market back in Adelaide. Likewise on the restaurant front, the meals were enjoyable and certainly cheap, but really no better than we had experienced throughout other locations in Italy. However, Bologna did have one major asset in its favor that we hadn’t considered and that was its ‘authenticity’. Unlike most of the provincial cities we had visited, it appeared largely unaffected by tourism and therefore provided a very genuine Italian experience. There were far less foreign accents to be heard and the older parts of town generally lacked the polish and presentation of the more visited destinations. Sadly, there was far too much graffiti for our liking, which often defaced the towns beautiful and unique historical buildings. Yet looking through all that, we felt that there was certainly a uniqueness about Bologna that had strangely not been fully capitalized by its own citizens.

It quickly became apparent that the most unique feature of Bologna was its architecture and particularly its street level porticos that are said to stretch out some 38 kilometres in and around the city. These arched covered walkways were largely built in the middle ages to sensibly protect its citizens from the natural elements as they made their way around. Most of the porticos are beautifully constructed, often with marble flooring and elaborately painted ceilings. With the light streaming in, they would often appear like a scene from a De Chirico painting, while at other times they had an endless quality that perfectly demonstrated the converging lines of perspective drawing. Such was the case during the long walk we undertook to San Luca Basilica. We began by catching a bus to the site of one of the entrances of the ancient wall that had originally surrounded the city centuries ago. From here we wandered along an extensive stretch of porticos that slowly made their way upward into the foothills. With over 600 archways to pass through, strangely the walk had a remarkable similarity to our climb through the Tori Gates in Japan. While the designs were completely different, the scale and endless nature of the arches was in many ways similar. Eventually we took the final steps at the end to reveal a beautiful terracotta coloured church overlooking the city, which incidentally appeared to spread far wider than we had previously thought.

Throughout our stay, we found the Bolognians to be particularly friendly folk; they were happy to go out of their way with help and advise, as if surprised that we had chosen to visit there town rather than more popular destinations. Another surprising quality we discovered was their love of cinema, apparently buying the largest number of movie tickets per head of population in Italy. They hold a number of film festivals throughout the year, with the most popular being the Sotto le Stelle del Cinema, which is held in the summer months in the open-air of the Maggiore Piazza. After dinner one night, we thought we’d take a ‘passagiata’ (an evening stroll) to the piazza to see what was happening. Being a free event, it was absolutely packed, but there was a terrific atmosphere as people were settling in for the evening with a cold glass of vino or a melting gelato in hand. With the huge screen set against a backdrop of buildings from the middle age, I can’t think of a better setting for watching a movie on a warm summers night. Amazingly the movie (‘The Kings Speech’ that particular night) was in English with Italian subtitles, as apparently the film aficionados prefer their films to be presented in their original language.

The next day we woke to another sun drenched day and to find a huge open-air market had set up close to our hotel. Spreading out far and wide, it effectively doubled the already large collection of shops in the central business district and local residents were already up early searching out bargains. If you were looking for cheap shoes, clothing, leather goods or electronics, this was certainly the place to be. Indeed, Bologna generally seemed to be a very affordable city to live, which no doubt suits the large student population who live here. The city has the notoriety of being the location of the one of the oldest universities in the world (University of Bologna, founded in 1088), which further adds to its somewhat understated history. As we continued to discover, there was much about Bologna that could be further promoted to enhance the city and attract more visitors. However, the question is whether that is what is actually wanted or in the end, whether it will ultimately change the cities truly authentic character.

Logos and Leonardo

Back to Milan for the second time in two weeks, Jules and I were hoping to gain a bit more of an insight into what makes this city tick. We were interested in its sense of ‘style’ that appears to have become so ingrained into the culture and character of the city. Certainly Milan has a reputation as an art and design capital, with a myriad of festivals held each year (i.e. Milan Design Week, Milan Furniture Festival, Milan Fashion Week, Milan Biennale to name just a few) that continue to attract interest throughout the world. This is a city that encourages creativity and has more recently inspired the likes of Giorgio Armani, Guccio Gucci, Miuccia Prada, Nina Ricci, Gianni Versace … and the list goes on and on. On the streets we could gauge that here art is more than just aesthetics but a serious business with countless high end designer shops competing for the attention of the style conscious Milanese. For them it appeared that it was all about the ‘brand’ and having the right product connections was as important as breathing.

While Jules and I also undertook our own retail research, we did find time to visit the Triennale Design Museum, which is regarded as Milan’s most significant cultural institution showcasing aspects of its modern design history. While it was interesting, we felt that it didn’t totally capture the full dimension of this city’s creative achievement. For us, this could be seen better by simply looking through the logo branded shop windows of which there are plenty!

As we walked to the Triennale, we passed through the Sforza Castle, which is a 14th century reminder of Milan’s historical past. This magnificent structure is made even more famous due to some of the ceiling decorations by Italy’s greatest artist and designer, Leonardo da Vinci. The Milanese are particularly proud of the influence of the city upon the career of Leonardo, with the ‘great man’ establishing a strong connection with the city by basing himself here for 17 years (1482-1499) and then returning again several years later (1504-1508). He is honored in Piazza Della Scala with an impressive statue by Pietro Magni (1872) that overlooks the world-renowned opera theatre, La Scala. However, Leonardo’s most significant monument would have to be the fresco he painted in the refectory of the Santa Maria della Grazie …’The Last Supper’. Regarded as the most reproduced religious image ever, it is such a popular attraction that today you need to book well in advance in order to view it. Thankfully, Jules did just that as we turned up at our appointed time only to witness a number of disappointed tourists being turned away. Having a ticket however doesn’t mean that you are immediately free to walk in; there are a series of waiting areas that each group (around 25 people) must work their way through before finally proceeding to the 15 minute viewing. Following much anticipation, the glass doors finally slid open and we entered a relatively small room that was sparse and dimly lit. On the far wall under soft light was the iconic fresco, which on first sight stunned our small group into silence, as it must do for virtually every group when they see it for the first time. It is fortunate that the fresco actually still exists at all, after being bombed to near destruction during World War II; yet somehow it survived and it’s restoration has remained an ongoing project ever since. The latest was completed in 1999 and saw years of over-painting being taken back to reveal Leonardo’s original brushwork. The result is less colourful, but with its inconsistencies in condition, it somehow makes the piece far more authentic, revealing the experimentation of early fresco techniques. It is was certainly no less impressive and as we sat on the simple wooden benches, there was a quiet reverence for both the religious subject matter and for the skill of the artist who depicted it.

While our stay in Milan was short, we managed to gain just a small glimpse of its impressive art and design history, both from the past and present. Similar to Paris, there is a certain confidence in this city and it’s citizens based upon a well-established foundation of creative achievement. It is certainly dirty, loud and gritty, which is in stark contrast to the polished and refined items that are produced here. Like the bright red Ferrari’s that are built just outside the city, it continues to provide the world with many of the unmistakable tokens of success and provides the setting from which great designs are launched.

On Board the Bernina Express to St.Moritz

Part of the fun of sitting out on our balcony overlooking Lake Como is watching the various activities of the lake … ferries of different shapes and sizes, small motorboats, seaplanes and occasionally traditional Italian rowing boats (in which two oarsmen stand as they row). While the lake is a watery stage for a myriad of activities, the backdrop to all this is the magnificent mountain range of the Alps which straddle the border between Italy and Switzerland. In anticipation of even more spectacular scenery, Jules and I were keen to explore them further by heading toward the border and hopping on the Bernina Express that heads towards St. Moritz.

We boarded the weekly tour bus that leaves from Menaggio to find that many other tourists (mostly Brits) had a similar idea, particularly as the weather forecast promised a clear and sunny day in the Alps. These sort of group tours are not normally our type of thing, but for economy of time and the opportunity to travel on one of the highest (over 2000 metres above sea level) and most picturesque railway journeys of the world, we were prepared to be herded along.

Travelling by coach toward to the northern end of Lake Como, we pass through the little lakeside town of Dongo and are reminded by our tour guide that this was the location for the dramatic capture of Benito Mussolini and his mistress toward the end of World War II. Heading for the neutral Swiss border and with the Alps in sight, ‘il Duce’ must have thought that he was just about safe, until partisans stumbled upon him and swiftly delivered their vengeful justice. In thankfully more peaceful times, this area is now one of Italy’s major wine regions with vineyards stretching high into the slopes of the nearby hills. Arriving at the border town of Tirano, there was time to view the elaborate Basilica of the Madonna, which is said to have been the site of an apparition of the Virgin Mary in the 16th century and continues to attract pilgrims each year in search of divine miracles. However, what is more significant to us is that it is here that we get our first glimpse of the Bernina Express, which literally cuts through the centre of the town.

We cross the Swiss border and in order to save some time, board the train in Poschiavo to begin a slow winding accent toward Bernina Diavolezza. This is a spectacular run that sees us traveling over viaducts toward the extraordinary Bernina Pass with its snow capped peaks, milky blue lakes and ancient glacier. Not surprisingly, the pass and the railway line that threads its way through it are listed as UNESCO world heritage sites and even in summer it is a remarkable landscape that had both ourselves and the Brits continually snapping our cameras. The time passed quickly and we were soon back on the bus for the final run into St.Moritz, a place that has long been regarded as a winter playground of the rich and famous. While the town provided some nice scenic outlooks, a pretty alpine lake and of course the end point for the legendary Cresta Run (a three quarter of a mile toboggan racing track), we felt that as a town it was somewhat of an anti-climax. Similar to cities like Monaco, there is artificiality and a manicured nature to such places that make them somewhat cold and impersonal. As we were warned, the shopping was outrageously expensive and the best we could manage was a vanilla custard slice (quite delicious, I must say) and an ice-cream (not a patch on Italian gelato). No doubt St.Moritz is a winter wonderland when the snow falls and you’re cashed up for the season, but for now, we were just happy to head back to Italy.

On our return however, we had an unexpected surprise when we crossed over the Italian border and made a brief stop in Chiavenna. Nestled in a mountainous valley, this beautiful medieval village exuded all the charm that we have come to expect when venturing outside the major tourists spots. Narrow laneways, picturesque buildings and piazzas complete with water fountains, which can all be summed up in one simple word ... ‘character’! Running through the heart of the town was a rocky stream that flowed with icy clear water of melted snow from the mountains above, which was spanned by an ancient arched bridge. As we looked down, a local man who clearly sensed that we were visitors, came alongside and began to throw bread into the stream, encouraging excitable trout to the surface. Not to be out done, Jules reached into her bag to bring out a bag of dried bread sticks and did the same. At that point we both wished that we had more time to spend in Chiavenna rather than in St. Moritz. While we had thoroughly enjoyed the trip, in particular the wonderful scenery of the Bernina Pass, it had again reminded us about which side of the border we preferred and for us this time there was no simply comparison.

Living the Life on Lake Como

Heading north out of Milan by rail was much like leaving (or entering for that matter) any other big European city, plenty of grime and plenty of graffiti. There was certainly no indication of the breathtaking beauty that we were about to experience just one hour away at Lake Como. However, upon reaching the end of the line in the town of Como, we knew that we were in for something special when we walked out of the station to see the great lake stretched out before us like an endless blue runway.

Jules had been planning our visit here for months in advance, scouring the internet for the perfect holiday rental that would provide the unique combination of a truly authentic Italian experience combined with all of the necessary holiday comforts and conveniences. She thought that she had found such a place in Argegno, a slightly lesser known tourist town than Bellagio, Menaggio or Varenna, but with the important common feature of being right on the waters edge. It also had one other added attraction for Jules and that was being the neighboring town of Laglio, which any celebrity watcher knows is where George Clooney chooses to spend his summer vacations (Jules would continue to live in hope of a chance meeting throughout our stay). While George was nowhere in sight as we passed through on the bus, what did become apparent as we weaved around the coastline was the increasingly stunning lakeside views. As we headed closer to our destination, an American girl lent over to ask whether the next stop was in fact Argegno. She went on to explain that her and her two friends had traveled up from Milan for the day just for a swim in the pristine waters and with much of the lake having limited public access, they had read that this was one of the few spots they might be able to wade in. We all hopped off the bus heading in different directions; for them it was the water and for us, the hills. We actually saw the girls later in the afternoon and it seemed that they had indeed fulfilled their mission and with dripping hair they were about to begin their long trip back to Milan. We on the other hand, would be spending a much longer time here (two weeks in fact) in a house only a stones throw from the waters edge and with majestic views of the alpine peaks beyond. It would be from our balcony overlooking the lake that we would recite our regular mantra… ‘how good is this?’… several times a day!

It wasn’t too long before we were exploring the numerous lakeside towns using the regular ferries that ply these waters. For those in a hurry, there was the ‘servizio rapido’ (hydrofoil) service, but for the rest of us, with time on our hands, the regular ‘slow ferry’ would move at a pace that allowed us to do some sunbathing between taking regular photographs of the ever-changing scenery. This surely was the best way to take in the scale and beauty of Lake Como and its surrounding towns; each with it’s classic window-shuttered buildings, painted in umpteen shades of terracotta. Clinging onto the steep mountain slopes, these closely stacked buildings were generally simple and rustic, separated by narrow laneways, providing a romanticism that is unique to Italy. Jules and I would spend many an hour analyzing and dissecting the qualities of each town while sitting in the local cafes and restaurants. I must admit that gazing at unbelievable views and eating Italian dishes with a glass of vino or cold beer was a pretty nice way to spend an afternoon. Not surprisingly, it soon became our regular pastime as we tried to determine the most picturesque town. After much deliberation we eventually awarded that honor to Varenna, as much for its serenity (due to the lack of cars) as the quintessential charm of its old town.

Despite our regular journeys around the lake, at the end of the day we were always happy to return to Argegno. We had not seen a better view of Lake Como than from our very own balcony, unless of course you discounted the outlook from Pigra. This is a small town that sits on top of the mountains above Argegno and by boarding a tiny cable car, you can stand on a summit almost 1000 metres high. The aerial view from here was pretty special indeed and provided us with yet another reminder of the sheer scale of the lake and overlapping mountain ranges that continued endlessly through to Switzerland. Back in the village, Jules was increasingly making herself known to the locals. Most mornings she would head off to visit the lady in the grocery store, the baker and her friendly fruit and veg man, who were all very welcoming. They would encourage her to use Italian language, while providing just enough English to act as a safety net if she couldn’t quite find the words. She would return with bags of delicious goodies and fuelled with inspiration to cook. As she loaded her ingredients into the fridge, she would look at me and say with a smile … ‘I could get used to this!’

The view from our balcony!