Do you ever wish you were an artist? What must it be like to look at a scene like this and know that you can replicate your version of heaven, with just a smidgeon of cloud here, a patch of blue there? I hovered behind him, watching the bay take shape in front of my eyes. He was oblivious. Just One Person from around the World.
Perhaps you’d like to sit a while and watch the ferry dock? For us, Ascona was but a brief stop off on our trip to Lake Maggiore, but you can linger as long as you like. Have a cappuchino- why wouldn’t you? I don’t have Becky’s knack for squaring videos, but she made me cry with hers this morning. Streisand often gets me that way. “Misty water-coloured memories…”
Yet another bright memory, but my last from the lovely Italian Lakes. Next time I’ll take you south to the Amalfi Coast.
Where next? A year later found us with this stunning vista of Lake Como. Not my image- my husband was chief cameraman. I simply gawped! And kept a lookout in case a certain Mr. Clooney happened to saunter by, in this playground for millionaires. Bellagio was all I could have hoped for. Our hotel, on the lake front, had the look of former gentility, with frescoes on the dining room ceiling and an air of grandeur. We were tucked neatly away in a large cupboard at the back, and tiptoed down the stairs to breakfast. But the view across the water was sublime.
My memories of Como are not so clear as those of Garda, and I’ve had to rootle under the bed for the box of postcards that constituted my diary at that time. I would say that it was more of a holiday for grown ups, with beautiful gardens and villas everywhere you looked. Entertaining a 7 year old was less easy, but he was pretty good at finding himself friends, including an older couple with whom he regularly played cards. His blow-up rubber boat was a great success in the freezing hotel pool, despite, or because of, its slow puncture. A memorable coach trip to Lake Lugano in Switzerland provided stunning scenery for us and, for him, a giant chess set on the endless shoreline.
Impossible to forget, though, the vision of Isola Bella. We ferried across Como to join a coach for Stresa, on Lake Maggiore. A motorboat carried us out across the water to the Borromean Islands, to the wedding cake confection that is Isola Bella. Everything is anticlimax once you have witnessed these coral grottoes, whimsical statues and the manicured lawns where white peacocks parade. It feels like treading in someone else’s dream.
Almost beyond your wildest dreams, and then onwards, swept towards Isola dei Pescatori, the more modest Fisherman’s island. In the distance, Isola Madre, the mother island. Many holidays rolled into one is how I remember Lake Como, with every possible variation in the weather. Water dripping from our noses in the capital, Como, and searing heat on the islands. A feast of a holiday!
Becky is taking a little sojourn of her own. Do join her with a BrightSquare!