It seems little ridiculous, sitting here looking out through the finally lifting fog to the freshly snow-dusted mountains, to be writing about our last warmish-weather hurrah. But due to a broken computer resulting in no snaps until the replacement arrived (followed by the compulsory get-to-know-the-replacement period), here we are. But, more relevantly: here is where we were.
This late afternoon late Autumn beauty is Lake Como (in late September, as it happens). We were there with three quarters of the Purtell siblings: Dom, Soph and Tim. As you can imagine, having two of their doting aunts around all weekend was horrible for the children and they had a dreadful time.
Of course we adults did too. Everyone hates holing up in a small village in Italy with very little to do other than check out cute towns, eat delicious food and drink too much wine. Horrible.
It wasn’t our first time visiting the Como region. We spent the New Year in Varenna with my sister and her family the first year we moved here. This time we stayed in a little village close to Lecco, but having loved the little hill town of Varenna we decided to head back there. The seasons are so markedly different here that visiting in Autumn, rather than winter, felt like a completely different trip.
The medieval ruined castle that sits above town, nestled in ancient olive groves, was this time open for visitors. Spooky visitors.
There was a (very odd and incongruent) sculpture exhibition throughout the grounds, with several of these plaster-caped guys chilling and taking in the view. While fairly scary, they were nowhere near as bad as they castle’s main attraction: falconry.
We watched a heavily-gloved trainer manage several of the enormous birds, which would fly effortlessly off across the lake, circling high above us on their return. (Also, yes, Tim may have been lying down in the afternoon sun to get that shot. Since we had Aunty Day Care the entire weekend, there was very little reason to do much other than relax, and pose for cheesy ‘I’m an active parent’ snaps.)
And admire the view, of course.
The following day we went to the town of Como. We took a boat across the lake and spent the morning wandering through the town, working up an appetite by ninja leaf-throwing missions on poor unsuspecting* Uncle Jake.
* unsuspecting my butt. He totally saw them a mile away but really is the very best kind of uncle and feigned complete shock and surprise, and then counter-leaf-attacked like a champ.
Eventually enough time had passed to justify pulling up at a sunny restaurant on the lake for a long and lovely Sunday lunch (rosé! pizza! tiramisu! i-pad!). Apparently not as delighted with lazing in the afternoon warmth as their parents, Aunty Dom took the little ones to get themselves throughly drenched before heading home. Since I remained lounging in the restaurant (there may or may not have been limoncello involved) I didn’t mind in the slightest.
The next day, Soph and Jake made their way to Berlin for the final leg of their holiday. We caught up with them the following week before they flew back to Australia, but as is common when we meet family and friends over here we start to wonder when we will see them again. The answer (invariably ‘we don’t know, but soon we hope’) is becoming something we increasingly ponder as our time here goes on.
As Tim pointed out en route, it was a glorious day and there was really nothing awful at all about hiking through the stunning Italian countryside. Summer blossoms scented the air, olive groves shimmered in the hazy light, and we thirstily looked out across lush vineyards as we – and thousands of other people – walked towards Sulzano and the start of the installation (happily with refreshments along the way).
To our great disappointment as we arrived we were told that we weren’t able to go on the floating part of the installation as storm warnings were declared and as such kids weren’t allowed on. We were directed away from the three (!) hour (!!) queue (!!!) to get on and instead advised to get a ferry across to the island.
The exhibition continued for three kilometres, bordering the village and then circling an island. We plodded along for a while, enjoying the sun and the hustle and bustle of our fellow pilgrims. Due to the kid restrictions, our poorly feet and the 34 degree heat we didn’t make it the entire way around, but we figured that some gelato compensated just fine.
Given we had a few logistic issues (massive queues to get off the island and back to our car) and a few health ones (turns out being almost four months pregnant and walking for hours in the blistering sun may not be the best idea I have ever had) we called it a day in the late afternoon. As we left, the queues were still enormous (the exhibition is open for 24 hours; apparently night time is magical) but the feeling of general enthusiasm and goodwill remained, even on a sardine-packed bus back to the starting point.
We’ll definitely return to Lake Iseo once the exhibition is over – we are keen to sample wine from afore mentioned vineyards, and the area itself was spectacular. However as much as we enjoyed our shared pilgrimage, next time we’d prefer to experience it without the other 99,997 people that were there last Saturday.
Genova is home to one of Europe’s largest aquariums, and although our little lass has the attention span of a goldfish we gave it a go nonetheless. It made Tim’s water lust even worse, but was a refreshing break from the almost too warm afternoon sun.
Lago Maggiore straddles the Swiss and Italian border and boasts crystal waters and, of course, Alps. Like its easterly and slightly more popular cousin – 
The afternoon held island-hopping. We jumped on one of the local ferries and made the short trip across the lake, Motsy taking advantage of the opportunity to add to his ‘flags on boats’ collection.
The descent was at times hairy, down slippery rock steps and narrow paths. I was the only one not carrying a child so spent my time nagging everyone else to be careful. We paused regularly, glimpsing shimmering silvery olive groves and glittering water. It was easy to mistake the lake for ocean due to the misty haze in the sky.
Once back in Varenna we made our way to the lake edge to let the kids – both small and large – play.
The day ended, as all days do, with the sun arcing across the sky, over the horizon and out of sight (and also with wines). On the first day of the new year, though, it did so spectacularly.
Hey Mamalaide 