A day in the lake area was fun – we took the early train to Milan from Trevilgo, and then onto a fast train to Lake Como. I had a good book (an excellent book called ‘Book Book ‘ by Fiona Farrell - borrowed from Joy, the wonderful lady from New Zealand who has created a wee NZ niche in Trevilgo and still sounds like a Kiwi after 30 years away from home) to try and power read on the train so that it could be returned to her before I returned to Croatia, but we got distracted because our seating companions were a lovely young couple on their honeymoon - originally Albanians, resident in Lebanon and incredibly international. It was an interesting conversation as they described their lives in Beirut. Good jobs, he in men’s fashion, she in the local council, good work hours, fantastic shopping, fantastic restaurants and night life, and incredibly safe, incredibly safe! – no problem to walk around the city at night... Unless ‘something crazy happened and there were guns’. I guess ‘safe’, like ‘old ’ has a frame of reference. They were charming and enchanted with the romance of Venice which they had just visited, and had gorgeous matching wedding rings – Cartier, I think… (so cute).
When the train arrived at Lake Como there was a cold wind blowing – we wandered around the old town, checked out the Basilica and then discovered a photograph exhibition – gorgeous black and white scenes developed on cotton fabric and then washed with an emulsion to create a smoky effect. The photographer himself arrived and checked us out and we charmed him with intelligent questions. Unfortunately they were ‘one-offs’ and already framed, too big, too heavy and too expensive to consider.
It is still low season technically speaking, so the funicular was having a few safety tweaks and was closed for the week – so we took the bus to the top of the hill (a hair-raising experience where there was a lot of faith in the condition of the brakes). There were only four of us in the minibus due to the fact that when some German Tourists asked for instructions to get tickets for the bus, the old lady sitting behind us dismissed them unceremoniously by telling them that they had to wait for the next bus and told the driver to leave. We couldn’t work out how old she would have been (obviously older than her taupe wig) - she was from Lake Como originally, but lives in Cape Town, returning to her apartment for six months of the year, which she had been doing for 31 years, just following the sun. We asked for advice about a café at the top of the hill, but she said she wouldn’t know because she doesn’t trust anyone enough to eat out… I suggested that perhaps we should eat at her house with her and she giggled.
And in true Italian style, the train back to Milan was delayed by an hour. We sat on the platform watching the locals shrug their shoulders and roll their eyes each time a new announcement came over the speakers.
Joy texted Sharon to invite us to eat with her – gorgeous pasta, wonderful wine – and more thought- provoking conversation,which all illustrated a point that was made by Joy last time we ate together – Sharon had commented that she had been a bit disappointed in the food she had had so far in restaurants, and Joy made the point that the food itself is not the point in Italian eating, but that it is the sitting and taking time with family and friends that is what it is all about – that the food is secondary to the company but as a result, the experience enhances the food. And the point was illustrated as we sat there talking – the food was simple but divine, but the company made the act of eating and the actual food even better. Joy is a special person, and as we walked around the village the other night with her (on our search for the perfect eclipse of the moon) it was obvious that she is well known and respected in the community as she was greeted warmly by others out walking.
It’s time to return to Croatia to my wee apartment (after staying a few days in a gorgeous penthouse apartment with Sharon – thanks Sharon!!) – I have Croatian lessons organized, the kids will be wanting me to row with them, and my tramping boots will be missing me! And there may be a trip to Slovenia to do some rock climbing coming up
PS We didn't spot George.. he must have been in Croatia looking for us!
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