Girl's just wanna have fun(icular) Varenna - Como

The weather today was a slight variation on the perfection we have been experiencing of late, dear reader. The breeze, that arrived later yesterday, brought with it cloud and cooler temperatures, although the puffer jackets I saw in the morning were overkill.

I showered and dressed quickly and made my way straight to the ticket office at the ferry terminal to avoid the queues. Some days are quieter than others but it is difficult to pick the ebb and flow of the tour groups that they can so easily make life difficult because of their sheer number.

At 7:30am, there were few people about and I was the only person at the ticket office. After a short wait while the attendants finished their discussion, I was served. Two round trip tickets to Como on the fast ferry please. "You can only buy one way." came the reply. OK, but the fast ferry leaves at 8:40 I enquired? "No, that is holiday only". And Sundays as it turns out, but any information is dispensed sparingly. "The next fast ferry is 1:16pm." Of course it is, I thought. So the next 'slow' ferry to Como is the 11:07am? "Si". Alora, I purchased two one way tickets to Como and returned to tell Jayne the good news. There was no rush. We had time to waste.

The fast ferry takes about an hour from Varenna to Como, but the slow version is around 2 hours 30 minutes. It zig zags across the lake and is a passenger ferry only, no cars. The cloud and the haze that came with it meant it was not going to be a great day for photography and I would have preferred arriving at Como in the morning rather than mid-afternoon. The only other option was to catch a ferry to Bellagio and then go on to Como but I wasn't confident enough in the timetable to make that journey.

But I'm going to Como.

At the pier there were designated lines for Bellagio and Menaggio, but nothing for Como. Time to ask again. Either line was OK and the Como ferry was almost there. Quite a number of people disembarked and we quickly assumed our places on the back deck. Menaggio is directly across the Lake where a few more people went ashore. At Bellagio the ferry became a veritable ghost town and we secured rail side seats and braved the windy conditions until we arrived at Como.

A bridge at Nesso.

Villa del Balbianello.

Tremezzo, I think.

A villa.

Jayne's list included the funicular, hence today's very bad pun on the Cyndi Lauper classic, Girls just wanna have fun from 1983. The ferry docked at Pier 1 right opposite the funicular to Brunate. The line was already long as a tour group of around 50 people had just arrived. There was no way I was joining that line and decided that buying our ticket home was more important. Once we learned where the ticket office was.

The rail line for the funicular.

Around to Pier 3 where we had a good view of the sculpture, Life Electric, an homage to Alessandro Volta the inventor of the electric battery, not the vacuum cleaner. The person at the ferry information kiosk informed us that our return option, fast ferry style was a choice of 6:40pm or 6:40pm and we should buy the tickets while some were still available. It was settled, we would take the 6:40pm and it departed from  Pier 3. Tickets purchased, we set off for, wait for it, a church or cathedral, the thing with the duomo.

The sculpture.

Through the main piazza, past many restaurants, we stumbled across the biggest McDonald's store I've ever seen. Tables lined the street and there were precious few that were vacant. Every second shopfront was a restaurant and people queued for that swill. Disappointing in a country renowned for its cuisine.

Bigger than Texas.

The Basilica Cathedral Como, in the Piazza del Duomo, crowded by the other buildings and its sheer size made it difficult to obtain a clear photo of the façade. Inside was the usual array of soaring decorated ceilings, lavish side altars, a rose window and unusually, a number of tapestries depicting biblical scenes.

The ceiling.

The rose window.

A side altar.

One of the many tapestries.

You can never have too many Basilicas, right? So there was one just around the corner, the Basilica di San Fedele. It wasn't open to tourist traffic so there was no tick on my Basilica Bingo card.

San Fedele.

It was now time to return to the funicular and ride the rails to Brunate. The queue was significantly smaller and we happily, well, not unhappily, joined the line. we were soon followed by a group of Americans, one of whom remarked immediately that she wasn't queueing for this. I pointed out that the line had snaked around the corner less than an hour ago and the wait wouldn't be that long. It turned out that with ticket purchase we waited for two funicular trips before we found our way into a carriage. And so continues our quest to travel on every funicular we come across. So far I have missed two rides, due to maintenance work, one in Zagreb, the other Monserrat.

As I wrote earlier, the weather was not conducive to photography so I only have a couple of photos from Brunate. As we were on a timeline and there were still items to complete down in Como, the return walk to the lighthouse was out of consideration. What to do then? Birra, of course.

The ashtray was not for us.

Down to the bar where a table with a view was available and we enjoyed a couple of local pilseners while people watching. We also kept an eye on the queue for the funicular from "the balcony of the alps" back down to earth.

No idea, but it looks important.

It's a tight fit.

The home of Como 1907 .

By the time we reached Como, it was clear that our walk to Villa Olmo and its gardens was not going to be possible. We instead decided to have a late lunch/early dinner here and went off in search of a restaurant away from the extra busy piazzas, hopeful the food would be more authentic and crowds and prices reduced. Yeah nah. Still busy, still expensive and my cacio e pepe was lacking the pepe bit. I feel they tone it down for the bland tourist palette. Jayne did enjoy her carbonara. The cheapest wine was €40 a bottle and there was no house wine. Disappointing.

Interestingly, we observed the server, like one in Firenze, head off across the piazza to obtain a bottle of wine for someone to drink with their meal. Is it a storage issue on their premises or do they just popped over to the wine shop when someone orders something out of the main?

The statue of Alessandro Volta.

Post dinner, we strolled down to Pier 3 and joined the line to board the fast ferry for the ride back to Varenna and serenity.

Alla prossima.

Beautiful People (Varenna)

As much as I enjoy a small group tour, particularly one of Matt's food and wine experiences, (or should that be indulgences?) it is always nice to be back on our own, making our own decisions. Today, dear reader, we thought a slower pace and some time spent planning our stay on the lake would be our agenda.

The morning view from the balcony.

One thing I didn't mention from last evening was the beautiful people. Nah, I'm being polite, I mean the vapid and vacuous, the selfie crowd, those that primp and posture and pose are everywhere. They appear to be more intent on documenting how fabulous they look, at the expense of enjoying where they are. Shallow as a mud puddle. Look at me, look at me.

And then there are the new Porsches being driven from all parts of Europe to crowd the narrow cobblestoned streets. So far I have seen Porsches from Italy, of course, Germany, the Netherlands and Switzerland.

Our balcony.

Of course that brings me to today's title, Beautiful People by David Guetta and Sia. No need to explain if you read the lyrics.

The view from the back balcony looks out across the lake. In one direction, it is dominated by the ferry terminal. A slight turn north-west captures the water view between the hotel and another building. The position of the sun alters the light and creates a constantly changing vista. We are in an excellent position to watch the tourist traffic come and go. I thought the ferry terminal might pose a noise problem, but the double glazed windows are very effective.

Looking away from the terminal.

First thing this morning, a stroll along the Lover's Walk into the piazza looked inviting before the hordes arrived from parts unknown. It is very picturesque and the impatiens are still flowering beautifully although many other plants have finished blooming. The walk itself could hardly be described as romantic later in the day when it resembles a cattle run with streams of people fighting for position, walking in both directions. Happily today we almost had it to ourselves.

The Lover's Walk.

There are a number of cafés and restaurants further around toward the piazza and we scoped these out as we continued walking. We turned up a laneway toward the piazza where we had dinner last night to discover the breakfast options were limited. A quick visit to the tourist information centre to gather some brochures and ask some questions would assist in planning. We learned the landmark villa, del Balbianello, is only open Tuesdays and weekends and is totally booked out while we are here so it has been scratched from our list. We won't lose too much sleep over that omission as we are neither Star Wars nor James Bond fans.

The last of the spring flowers on the Lover's Walk.

Back down to the walkway we settled on Bar Molo. It has mixed reviews with the food being described as "hit and miss" but a killer view of the lake. Today it was both. We were hit by the expense, we may as well be in Switzerland, but the food was definitely a miss and the coffee was not strong enough.

One of the disappointing facts about the breakfast options is the number of cafés offering an "American breakfast". This is Italy, not America. Travel is about the experience and broadening the mind, not eating the same food you would at home. Then again, I guess it's about catering to the crowd. It seems every American with a passport is in Italy at the moment.

Laneways are steep.

At breakfast, a young woman sat waterside with her phone on a selfie-stick (and aren't they so uncool) and filmed herself not eating her breakfast. Another young man, female partner dutifully walking 5 metres behind, waltzed in with his handbag on his shoulder to be told there was no take-away service. We saw them both last evening, curiously wearing the same outfits. They looked a little weather worn in the mid-morning.

Not a great picture, but you get the idea.

The walk back along the water was fascinating. It is wedding season. The number of brides could not be counted and they were all lining up with their groom, photographer, flowers and entourage to board the old fashioned timber speed boats. The tour groups and crowds were growing in number so we returned to our apartment to plan for the next few days.

It's unkind, but I was hoping she'd fall in.

Varenna is one of the smaller, quieter villages on the lake. Allegedly. It seems crowded to us. While well serviced with ferries, we wanted to go to Como and deciphering the ferry timetable takes the skill of a quantum physicist. We had no idea and decided to visit the ticket office later in day and pose the question.

Mid-afternoon we ventured out once again to both ends of the village to two different 'convenience' stores to purchase supplies for dinner and wine. We also checked out the local church, San Giorgio. It's a thing in Europe, you can't walk past a church because you never what hidden beauty lies inside.

Look closely, a fascinating fresco.

The altar in black marble.

A 17th century confessional.

The salumeria in the piazza had a queue out the door because they also make sandwiches and the square was packed with lanyard wearing people, looking for sustenance. The other end of town towards the train station was not so crowded and also cheaper. Dinner requisites purchased, it was off to the ferry ticket office.

At this stage, we had read about the ferry service, checked out their website, attempted to purchase tickets online and read their timetable. Well, attempted to decipher the timetable. The line was small and moved quickly. Once at the window, we were informed that you could not buy tickets online, despite the website saying it was possible, and you could only buy tickets on the day of travel. So, we'll be back tomorrow.

The terminal and part of the crowd.

I unfurled the timetable on the kitchen table and thought I could make sense of it. We would opt for the fast ferry tomorrow so I would walk the few metres to the ticket office and buy our tickets in the morning. Jayne had everything mapped out for a day in Como and for the following day in Bellagio and then Bellano; it was time to sit on the balcony and watch the passing parade and have a medicinal glass of wine. Or two.

It was warm on the balcony but the heat was tempered by a nice breeze. The crowds continued to swell and dissipate as the ferries came and went. Their numbers dwindled as the sun began to set and we retired inside for a light dinner. No, dear reader, not a Matt's Produce Tours light dinner, a genuinely light meal. We consumed so much food last week, we don't really need to eat at all. We had purchased a loaf of bread on our travels which we toasted, slathered on olive oil and topped it with fresh tomatoes, cheese and a selection of mortadella, prosciutto and salami. The perfect end to our first full day. There may also have a been a chianti to wash the meal down.

Lover's walk from the balcony, glass in hand.

Tomorrow is the ferry experience. Wish me luck.

Alla prossima.

Lakeside (Lucca then Firenze, Milano, Varenna)

Another day, another series of cooking lessons. It can't be called a cooking class, dear reader, because so much is going on and we prep for a number of different meals. After the last couple of days, a slower pace was welcome. Breakfast was around 8am and food prep commenced around 10am.

Today's creation included two different styles of gnocchi (still not a fan), focaccia, stuffed zucchini flowers and tiramisu.

The focaccia.

The gnocchi.

The tiramisu.

After another 'light' lunch, we drove to Devil's Bridge or Ponte della Maddalena. It's a remarkable structure and comes steeped in mythology. Apparently the builder of the bridge was having issues and struck the usual, 'I pledge my soul' deal with Satan. On completing the bridge he was to make payment and Satan would take his soul. He confessed to a local priest who told him to send a pig across the bridge first. Apparently the Devil himself was so outraged he threw himself off the bridge and was never seen again. Seems feasible.

Ponte della Maddalena or the Devil's Bridge.

Then it was back into Lucca for a shopping opportunity for those who wanted it, or a chance to have a sneaky pre-wine tasting drink. You'll never guess what we chose. About 12 twelve of us descended on this cool little bar and enjoyed an Aperol Spritz or something of that ilk.

The wine tasting was held a short walk from the bar and showcased local wines from Lucca and Monte Carlo. No, not that one, dear reader. You were presented with a coupon for three large pour wine tastings and one for an olive oil. We didn't get to the olive oil because we needed to be at dinner. The numerous wines were a bit of a mystery so it was guess work. The first option was to try a wine that was recommended, a white, and it was tad too fruity for me. The next wine was selected on the basis of it being the most expensive at €29 and a 2019 vintage. Price does not always indicate quality and it certainly didn't here. The third wine was selected by its name, some religious thing linked to Marian. Finally, a winner.

Dinner was a brief stroll away down some small alleyway and into a piazza. The restaurant, Osteria da Pasquale, occupied the entire space. Pasquale is now considered a friend of Matt's as he has been bringing groups here for so long. There are a few tables inside and a cellar that also contains a table for a small group. The wine flowed and the food was excellent, as you would expect. 

Again there were a lot of people turned away - no reservation, no table. Another member of our group was told by other diners that they arrived for their dinner, took one look at our large group that they assumed were Americans and were about to depart until they heard our accents.

Intimate dining in the cellar.

It was another late night and some of our group kicked on. We opted for bed. Too many 11:30pm finishes combined with early mornings were taking their toll.

Our group being addressed by Pasquale.

The next day was more relaxed; a leisurely start followed by lunch at a local winery and the final afternoon of food prep, making egg yolk raviolo with burnt butter and sage. The bistecca was also going onto the grill.

Seems an appropriate name after all the food this week.

The wine tasting consisted of 5 glasses of wine, one white and 4 reds. It was accompanied by a light lunch. Like that even exists in Italy.  We commenced with the usual bread and olive oil, followed by smoked salmon on bread with a salad. Then we were presented with a selection of meats and three types of crostini topped with olive tapenade, mushroom and a spicy capsicum mix. This was followed by pecorino cheese and a local honey. Sigh. And we were going back to the villa to have dinner.

The raviolo production line.

 The bistecca pre-cook.

Arty shot of the steaks on the BBQ.

Dinner was scheduled for 7:30pm How I laughed. We actually sat down closer to 9pm. The bistecca presented a problem because the coals in the BBQ were too hot and the steaks kept catching fire. Ultimately they concluded their cooking journey in the oven. The raviolo were a major success and the tiramisu was as always very popular. All finished off with a limoncello and another 11:30pm bed time.

Dinner service with our three hosts,

Tomorrow is a transit day. Most of us are on the 10:32am train to Florence, some bound for Pisa and elsewhere in Tuscany, others to head to Rome and home. We are catching three trains, yay, first to Florence, then to Milan and finally to Varenna.

The transit
Well, dear reader, once again we had a relatively smooth transit day. The travel gods must be smiling on us. Most of our group were deposited at Lucca station around 9:30am to discover that the information boards had ceased to operate at 6:35am and we had no idea what platform our train was leaving from. Jayne and Karen queued at the ticket office to pose the question that so many had apparently asked already. Platform 4 was the weary reply. Off we all set.

The train was late, of course. There were no announcements save for the change of platform from 4 to 3. Thankfully this required movement of a few metres and did not mean negotiating the stairs with our bags again. The last handle of my bag is all that lies between it and disposal.

Finally the train arrived, 35 minutes late although it made up some time on the way to Florence. Here we bid everyone a fond farewell and went to the ticket office to see what time our train was leaving and to ask questions about the nationwide rail strike on October 2. The Frecciarossa to Milan was late and would mean we were cutting it fine with our connection to Varenna. As for the strike, who knows. The staff were unaware. We will check again closer to the actual date.

The journey to Milan provided some amusement. It's fashion week so there were some young and beautiful influencers with their oversized suitcases, presumably full of clothes. Amusing to watch them looking helpless hoping for assistance - and it always came. However, the Pomeranian that was released from its carry cage provided the most entertainment. It barked at anyone walking past as if it owned the aisle. One lady was clearly concerned about walking past it. The owner picked it up and tried to quieten it down but it kept struggling against him and whining and yapping. I've seen plenty of dogs on trains over here and this is the first time I've seen one misbehave.

We arrived in Milan, armed with the knowledge that our connecting train to Varenna was leaving from Platform 5. We pulled in on Platform 4 to see our train waiting for us. We had about 10 minutes to spare. Nice. Straight into the first carriage - a regional train but a more modern version of the others we have been on. This had some storage space behind the seats and luggage racks that could actually fit a suitcase.

Varenna was another hour and 4 stations away. We settled in and checked out where we had to pick up our key. A mere 6 minute walk from the station. Too easy. Off the train, we opted for the stairs with the luggage because we couldn't get near the lift down to the tunnel, but we did use the lift on the other side to get to the street level. Then it was a bag drag over cobblestones and the occasional smooth road to the Varenna Holidays where we collected our keys (made it to the office with 20 minutes to spare before closing time).

The ferry terminal

The lake from our balcony.

Our accommodation wasn't quite across the road but it wasn't far away. Two flights of stairs to negotiate and the remaining handle on my suitcase snapped. To summarise: I lost two tyres arriving in Manilla, I lost the remaining two arriving in Rome, the smaller handle snapped arriving in Lucca and now in Varenna the other handle decided it was too much for one and joined its compatriot. There will be a new case purchased in Milan next week before it disintegrates entirely.

The way to finish a transit day.

Anyway, we're here lakeside, in this picture perfect, postcard village. The perfect segue to today's title, Lakeside by Australian Crawl from 1981. 

A quick trip to the local store for some supplies (read wine) followed by dinner and wine on the balcony with the view across the lake. To cap off the almost faultless transit day, the good people of Varenna put on a fireworks display to welcome us, thankfully before we had retired to bed.

Benvenuto.

Alla prossima