Category: Travel

We climbed today, to a church in the clouds. We woke up early and had breakfast listening to the church bells ring. We walked around an empty piazza, before most people were awake. there are some people having breakfast behind the window of a glassed-in archway.

There was a vertical stone graveyard set into the facade wall.

A bus ride into Briegli shall take us to begin our hike up Monte Grona. We are to hike into the hidden mountains and learn that no one knows what to call hiking in Italy. ‘Footing?’ maybe.

We began our ascent. It was a day to be spent in the clouds. You could not see 20 minutes ahead, or 20 minutes behind. Time was only for now, the turning edge of a mountain, the purple fluted flower and bumble bee sucking as I pass. The fist-sized rock that most of Monte Grona consisted of was difficult to climb.

The Recipe of a City

Lakes that lap green grass shores

stone walls with burrowing arch caves

pathways against long walls

twelve friends who opened a hostel at our age

bad music

a waxing moon over the tip of Bellagio

embrace the differences

even those you know so as to be accustomed

thankfully we are all different

I’ve come to Italy to get my nerve back

The black lakes calms by night

a medium place, in between a border

where I am expected to speak my given language.

Day 10, the day we slowly went around Villa Balbianello castle, the beautiful garden that held the wedding between Anakin and Padme. I’ve heard the expensive silk sheets were too rough to sleep in, but were so beautiful. It was my favorite Sunday so far -the crisp waves, bright lake, glow of our faces against the reflective water.We toured the lake of Northern Italy, experiencing Como from a slow paddle pace. We crossed the big body going North for a few hours. Vorrei due biglietti per la Menaggio.

(I hadn’t seen episode two of Star Wars, I’m afraid to admit… but was quickly given a lesson and prompted to learn more about the Star Wars tours starting here.)

~ Villa Balbianello ~

…

You must live in Italy and not learn it from burying your nose in books. We tried ordering parts of a meal at different places, appetizers, drinks, desserts, more drinks just to talk. We’d tried to find places by asking for directions and I felt so proud of myself for asking and receiving an answer. An answer that Phil could understand better than I could. I began to realize how we depended on one another in understanding what we were going through and how it took different personalities to understand feeling what was going on around us.

So we rode the water, it was a cool fall day outside. Phil meandered from our booth to the outside deck and back while I drew trying to understand shade, detail and overall scene. Phil and I drew together. Near the end of our trip north we watched people run off at Cavatca. Lots of people got off the boat at Bellagio. Fashion so far had been a flashback of the American 80’s –hightop pink sneakers, stir-up pants with heels… seriously?

Italy in Como was more globalized since I was here last. Como wasn’t a place for guests, that was for the northern parts of the lake. At the Menaggio port we took lunch –two wines, due biletti del vino, una pizza with tuna salads. On this part of the lake a lot of people were out on their motorcycles. The hotels against the water ave gorgeous interiors by what we could see through into the tall glass windows. Lots of tight panted, lacy topped women with scarves and dogs were walking around. We found our hostel, La Primula,  accommodations but everyone was breaking for the afternoon so we left our things to come back later. Josh from Australia was sitting with his laptop on the porch waiting for a friend, Stephanie, to show up.

Phil and I walked around Menaggio.  We came across a vintage car show and I studied the  curtain dressing on the exterior of the buildings. Then we took a boat to Bellagio.

There is a campus there and a highly recommended place to eat at in a cove of the northern lake. Bellagio sits on a peninsula into the lake. Apparently this area was for affluent Italians or other world travelers looking to escape into the hidden mountains, the Dolomites.

There are two main thoroughfares to Bellagio –one by the lake and the second up many stairs. Most of the peninsula was private for the residents’  gardens of rosemary, kiwi and figs. We sat beneath a metal canopy –Carlsberg, and had coffee laced with Amaretto to watch children run around recklessly. We ran up and down the streets steps, finding a new shop at nearly every stair. Some two-table cafes or wine shops had tables straddling the stairs by way of a home-made platform. Phil bought a cap in one of the shops. We roamed for a while, glad to be warm, alone and without a plan. I found a skirt I liked and wanted to mimic some day. I took a picture while we were waiting to board the boat back to Menaggio and embarrassed Phil when the flash went off.

It seemed like someone could make enough money in a summer to support themselves the rest of the year. Bellagio had the strictest of historical renovation standards –the look of it’s main street –it’s face, could not change at all.

Italy had intrigue in the structure of the streets, shops and residences. Not only was the language a barrier but cragged mazes, steep cliffs into the water, walls of billowing curtains to keep out the sun, walled gardens of stone, canopies of trees over paths leading only to the water, a boat and one residence. The sky was turning purple on our way back home. From here we could see our steep hike planned for tomorrow.

Waking up in Como Italy

Day 9

Falling through the cracks

memories around blind corners

skipped pages in a book

a day that is not a holiday marker

any other time of the year

not Valentines ,  St. Patrick’s’ Day

Mardi Gras, Easter, Memorial Day, the 4th

Labor day, Halloween, Thanksgiving

or Christmas

was like the day we entered Italy.

.

As a married couple

needing nothing else

but the rain, each other,dinner

and a place to sleep.

.

The next morning, day nine

wet drenched Como

thunderstorms circle the Duomo ceiling

stories and stories above us

galoshes and children covered in plastic clothes

Phil barters for an umbrella

wanting just to buy one

but caught between a language and a price

he can’t understand.

The man who served us coffee calls out

from a horizontal window in the rain

to the vendor Phil is trying to purchase an umbrella from.

We win somewhere closer to the barrista’s price

the two of us go on, huddling in the rain.

.

We collect language along with appetizers

from place to place, five spots for dinner

just to talk to the people of Como more.

.

I can speak Italian if Phil can listen

and together we can have what we want.

.

I wrote a year ago:

The saturated color of buildings and the wet bottoms of pant legs climb up to my heightened sense of curiosity. How do I spend time wandering? I have to have a certain amount of time secured if I am to really let go and enjoy doing nothing. Sensing my whereabouts and wandering from pannini eating to puddle dodging. When the rain comes, the world is smaller, and less likely to be waiting on you outside.

We stayed at In Riva Al Lago. People in the Duomo searching for their faith or something better to do. All anyone wants is for it to be done yet the focus is lost on what you are doing. I question, How do I like to spend my time and how should I spend it when I’ve employed myself with a job to do? With no worries there is always a way.

After spending a weekend in Michigan celebrating a wedding, visiting family, making new friends and visiting gardens I am inspired to talk about traveling, and the impromptu things you come upon when you are open-minded.

Dropping my husband off in the wilderness for a week reminds me that I never published the backpacker contest we entered. The latest news with my husband and ‘Penguin’ is that they are out of the Shenandoah Forest, making good milage, but not having any luck sleeping at night.

Our Submission to be a Backpacker Field Scout

(Click the above statement to see our video)

We didn’t win but lost to a very worthy gal. Check out Colleen’s submission!

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Harrisonburg Virginia, population 45,000, the night of July 4th -The city was crawling with people. The fireworks were put off until about 10 at night, and then the announcer announced, in jest I thought, that the fireworks were canceled, please drive home safely. Really? Yes, the town did go dark after that, which made me leave my outdoor spot at the Artful Dodger, and take to my hotel on the hill.

The drive to drop my husband off on the AT to meet his best friend for a 90 mile, one week hike, was just as Virginia should be. Sunny one minute, and foggy the next. The Virginia farm houses were boasting their red white and blue ribbons and flags. It made me reminisce about my college years in these mountains. We drove through the slow two lane drive in the Shenandoah Forest on Skyline drive.

I enjoy towns this size, that of Harrisonburg‘s. There are enough people to support local food and brew, I can benefit from catching a farmers market, and strolling the town to check out the local businesses. It seems like every great historic town could support a bakery / cupcake shop, a bike shop, at least 3 architecture firms, 10,000 Villages, a college like James Madison, and an art stop coffee shop with many patio restaurants sprinkled in between.

And that’s only what I like to do in a day.