Waterfall Woman (Varenna, Bellano)

Ahh, Italy. Only you can make the best laid plans crumble. I was out of bed at 6:30am, dear reader, to climb to the Castle Vezio, the former military vestige that overlooks Varenna and the lake. As it turned out I was up too early and the moon was still hanging around the mountain across the water. It was still too dark to begin a walk with which I was unfamiliar.

Too early to set out.

It was pretty quiet.

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed and ready, armed with my pamphlet that described the climb to the castle and headed off. The notes seemed to be quite clear and they were accompanied with pictures. Leaving from the piazza, I walked to the cemetery. As usual, the dead have the best view in town. There are mausoleums, lining the cliff face and the more regular grave sites are at ground level.

The cemetery from the gate.

A view to die for. Yep, lame, I know.

Reading the next point in the notes, it became apparent that I had overshot the turn off for the climb. A lost in translation moment. I backtracked to find the almost illegible sign, pointing to a smaller road which led to the redevelopment of an older hotel. The photo in the pamphlet now does not exist, obliterated by building materials, construction vehicles and a massive crane. Anyway, onwards and upwards.

It was a very different picture a few hours later.

The road became a narrow track, scratched into the hillside. Underfoot was loose and rocky and the track was shaded by olive groves in places and unruly scrub in others. I saw no other people and one ginger cat that disappeared into the bush.

I've walked worse.

It was hard work and I could have used my sticks except that I was not wearing a pack and both hands were occupied, one with a camera and the other with my water bottle. The top of the mountain revealed, wait for it, a hotel. Il Porchetta. I have no idea how the guests arrive, but it wouldn't be by that track.

The track continued its meandering path. I could see the village of Vezio a little way off but no entry to the castle. Around the final bend before the village proper, I came to a gate. A locked gate. A locked gate that would not be unlocked until 10am. It was now 7:45am. I chose to walk early to beat the heat. I pulled the pamphlet from my pocket. Glasses on. Nowhere did it make mention of opening hours. Mumma mia!

Read it closely. FML.

While the exercise is always welcome, I deliberately did not take a lot of photos on the way up because the view from the castle was the main game. There was, as the stereotyped police officers say in TV shows, nothing to see here. Literally. Alora, time for some agua before I followed the donkey path down the other side of the mountain, back to the civilization of Varenna. Using a track established by an ass seemed somehow appropriate.

The path down from Vezio.

I walked through the door just on 8am. Jayne remarked that she'd thought I'd take longer. I laughed. What else can you do? Time to shower and walk to the piazza for breakfast.

The view NOT from the Castle Vezio.

We chose a different venue, as we tend to do until we discover perfection. This morning was the café next to the restaurant where we dined on the first night. Excellent coffee and croissant and people watching. Cyclists in particular. They were everywhere, this picture perfect Sunday morning.

From the balcony at Villa Cipressi, a wedding destination.

A short stroll from the piazza was the Villa Cipressi with its gardens. We waited until its 10am opening, because this is where you can buy the joint ticket to visit the gardens of the adjacent Villa Monastero. Except today of course. For no apparent reason, Villa Monastero had a special offer on today so no joint tickets. We did, however, score seniors discount entry prices, without having to produce proof - we obviously look old. Additionally, it was lucky we arrived in the morning because the villa would be closed at 2pm for another private function.

Looking back towards the Villa and the mythical Castle beyond.

The Cipressi gardens are sculpted into the tiered hillside below the villa and follow no logical path. To see everything would require significant backtracking. Unconcerned, we wandered where the path seemed more stable or where there were fewer steps. As we descended we came across a line of people. Jayne immediately knew why they were waiting. It was to take photographs of themselves and their partners at 'Heaven's gate' or hell's gate, as I renamed it.

The view people die for. FFS.

We waited in line for maybe 10 minutes before I had had enough. In that time, the line had progressed not an inch. Some other people who had joined the queue behind us, also came to the view that the wait was not worth it and sidled down along those waiting patiently. We soon joined them. As we reached hell's gates, we saw a group of four people of a particular nationality (choose your own prejudice) postured in front of the gates. At this stage, I believe they had been there for over 10 minutes, totally unconcerned that the line of people waiting was growing ever longer. 

Walking on, we followed the path up and around to a higher level where we could see the same view, just not with a couple of iron gates in full shot (see the photo above). The same four people still occupied the gates. We were now beyond 15 minutes and the line of those waiting patiently or otherwise, stretched further down the garden path. The sense of entitlement is breathtaking.

We met these little fellas on the walk.

The gardens were nice enough, although not in the league of those we had visited at Bellagio the previous day and it was a pleasant way to while away the morning, aside from the tangle with hell's gate. We still had the garden next door to visit.

Nice gardens but not a lot of flowers.

At the ticket area for Villa Monastero, there was an A4 page sign pointing out that heaven's gate was not in their garden. This was a much larger garden and it was more methodically laid out. Beyond that, the paths were also more substantial and easier to navigate, except for the temporary boardwalk around the construction site.

Monastero had the flower gardens.

Again, very different from Bellagio, with much less space, so the plantings, although from all over the world, were more tightly packed. The real drawcard was the view of the lake. And that never failed to please.

Looking back at Villa Monastero.

We returned home before venturing out to Bellano. It was all about timing. We expected larger crowds in Varenna because it was Sunday which is why we did the local gardens first. Early afternoon, we began the short walk to the station. Well, we tried it. The flood of humanity sweeping down from the station, spilled out onto the road and was, in some places, six people deep. Given the footpath, where it exists, is narrow, this meant that people, including us heading in the opposite direction, were in the middle of the road. It was like confronting a massive tour group. They were focussed on one thing, getting to the Varenna ferry terminal. A step in the wrong direction and you could be swept away.

Safely at the station, I discovered that you can't buy tickets online through the Trenitalia App within 5 minutes of a train arriving, even if it's running 15 minutes late. Back I ran to the foyer of the station building to the ticket machine. The machine was a challenge in itself and insisted on asking questions at every turn, some I had no idea how to answer. A guess was the only option. Tickets in hand, I moved quickly back to the platform on the other side of the tracks.

The train arrived and we were in Bellano within 5 minutes. A further 10 minutes and we were lining up to pay for entry into the Orrido, a gorge. Jayne produced our train tickets in order to get a discount. No deal. The tickets themselves were insufficient, we needed a receipt. The one that the machine in Varenna did not dispense, or maybe I missed it because I was in a hurry. After an interrogation about what time train we caught and how long it had taken us to walk from the station, we were reluctantly given the discount.

Stone bridge over the Orrido.

The gorge is quite spectacular and there is a path that winds around above the thundering waterfalls providing many photo opportunities. I don't know if I even have the strength to describe what we saw on the other side of the gorge as we neared the end of our walk. A vision in vermillion, with a train to rival Lady Di's, draped down the stairs and across the pathway. On our side, two photographers occupied the walkway, backpacks on, hindering the progress of all normal people. Seriously. And no, dear reader, I did not indulge the fat cow and take her photo. She has been cropped. I would much rather she had been dropped, as in, over the railing.

And that my dear, long suffering reader, brings us to today's title. I can't distance myself enough from this choice, it is all Jayne's doing. Apparently she has it on "some compilation" but my question is, why? Anyway, Waterfall Woman is from 1971 by Scott English (I'd never heard of him and for good reason). Listen at your own peril.

Expelled from the gorge, we walked down to the local church and snapped a couple of photos.

Main altar.

Side altar.

Then we walked down to the lake and along the foreshore in search of a bar and a beer. No food, no service of alcohol, until after 3pm. No food because we still don't need to eat after the Tuscany tour, therefore, no alcohol. It was back to the station for the journey home.

At the apartment, we discussed dinner options and selected the pizza place directly below us. However, we waited until the Sunday tourist crowd had subsided a little more.

We hadn't seen many boats under sail.

Beautiful day on the lake.

We arrived at the restaurant around 6:30pm and were assiduously ignored until Jayne grabbed nonno who was clearing tables. He returned, eventually, with a menu and we moved tables to the corner. A much better vantage point to people watch.

Around 6:45pm, papa, probably the owner, arrived at our table to take our order. He informed us the kitchen wouldn't open until 7pm. How the table next to us scored their meals is a mystery. Anyway, he chatted with us, thanked us for travelling so far to meet him and discussed our preference for wine. He then took the order for the table on the other side of us. Moments later he returned with the wine, opened it and asked if I wanted to taste it. I replied that cork taint wasn't possible with a plastic cork. He smiled. Shortly after, he came back with a plate of pizza slices for us - a little gift. No one else. VIP treatment.

The pizza was good. Not quite Roman style, it was thin but not crispy. Jayne enjoyed her pasta and the wine, although overpriced at €20 was a good addition. When the meal was done, our friend returned with two glasses of complimentary limoncello.

As is our custom in café style establishments, we collected our glasses and went to take them inside. Nonno was horrified and bounded out of his chair. His grandson muttered something like, this has never happened before. Inside we discussed payment. Papa preferred cash so I walked back to get some more Euro. It was no big deal, our apartment literally backed onto the restaurant. On my return I was met with another complimentary limoncello. They said they hoped to see us tomorrow but sadly, we are on the move again.

A most enjoyable evening and a fitting end to our time in Varenna. Tomorrow we transit to Milano.

Alla prossima.

Wait (Varenna - Bellagio)

Today, dear reader, was Jayne's planned visit to Bellagio. It is only one stop away, on the correct ferry, but yesterday, it was the port where most people disembarked. The original plan was for me to walk down to the ferry terminal and purchase our tix as soon as I awoke. Encouraged by the lack of humanity around the pier yesterday, I opted not to do that.

Poor choice, dear reader. There was a price to be paid. The queue for the ticket office, have I mentioned no ticket machine, was back to the round-a-bout. Clearly this is the link to today's title Wait by the best group ever, The Beatles, from Rubber Soul released in 1965.

We arrived, 20 minutes before our ferry, to join a surprisingly long line. Knowing there would be many people in front of us who wanted to ask (stupid) questions, getting our tickets before the ferry arrived was always going to be touch and go, or line ball if you are from the continent of Trump. Have you renamed it right?

Anyway, time ticked away. The ferry to Menaggio occupied the car wharf. We moved forward, slowly. The Menaggio ferry refused to give way and was now late. Cool. More opportunity to get our ferry. We were now beside the kiosk so I was able to photograph the 'Buy your ticket online' poster. For future reference, you can't. Don't try. Cruel. Jump into the wound. The Menaggio ferry departed and we could see our ferry waiting to dock.

I am unable to caption my real thoughts.

At least they had to unload cars. We inched closer. The ticket window was in sight. The ferry horn blasted across the lake but it was still there. Goal achieved, we reached the window as the second blast from the ferry signaled it was leaving. Oh well, we would have to wait for the next one.

After we had secured round trip tickets, we moved from ticket office to queue, but one of the attendants pointed back away from the car ferry and said the magic word. No, not that one, seriously, dear reader. Bellagio. A passenger ferry, no cars, was arriving at the other end of the pier. This was a happy circumstance and prompted me to reassess the timetable and my interpretation. Now that is a skill that should be taught at school. What are teachers doing these days? Surely there is space in the curriculum to teach students how to read the Lake Como ferry timetable. It's an essential life skill.

Seated on the ferry, it was a 15 minute trip to Bellagio. Similar to yesterday, many people alighted and spilled onto the promenade where many beautiful people were already posing over the breakfast they would photograph but not eat.

Salito Serbelloni.

Down the main street we walked, around the corner and into a shopping strip that was the commencement of the fabled stone pathway. Or something like that. Cobblestoned lanes, roads, paths are de rigueur. Buzz buzz, as Hamlet would say. However, it did excite the masses, and there was a lot of flicking of hair and adjusting of make up and other boorish behavior.

It was time to tourist, so up Salito Serbelloni we went. I tried to get into as many 'influencer' photos as possible and loitered to look at stones just to delay them, as we have been delayed by their self-absorbed behavior. If only I'd brought my lip gloss, I could have taken more time. I mean, I can't toss my hair can I, dear reader?

Unimpressed. You?

At the top of the street, we turned toward the Romanesque St Giorgio Church. It is on the list of 'must do' but is unremarkable in every respect. Except that it is really old. Have I banged on about how Australians get excited because a church is 400 years old? No? Not this trip? I might remind you, dear reader, we have the oldest continuous culture in world at home and we disregard it constantly. But hey, what's 60,000 years of culture and successful land management against a church that bled the locals dry to ensure the ceiling was made of gold? Or a street that was cobbled with river pebbles 2,000 years ago?

This is not a church. It is a home. Cool, huh?

Moving on. We wandered the marvelous cobbled pavement, past stores selling the same thing, to a piazza where we could have breakfast. Coffee and croissant. A church dominated the square, St Giacomo's. In all honesty, I don't remember it now but will dutifully post a picture or two below. Jayne tells me he was beheaded. Makes sense given the stained glass window.

A side altar fresco.

The 'rose' window.

The altar and fresco.

The main reason for our visit to Bellagio was to make to Punta Spartivento, the promontory from which you can view three ways up and down Lake Como. I know you'll be shocked to read this, but there were people with selfie sticks and selfie tri-pods, occupying all the best vantage points. Giving zero fu... I mean being totally unconcerned about anyone else. 

Looking back at Varenna.

We managed to move from one end of the prom to the other, before the two (insert nationality of choice) women had moved from their starting point. FML.

Our next stop was Villa Melzi Giardini. As we have experienced, there was a wide lakeside promenade part of the way to our destination that just disappeared, think cycleways in Sydney, and we were forced on to the road, fighting for space with cars. Nevertheless, we survived and made the gardens.

It started out wide enough.

The Villa Melzi gardens are absolutely beautiful and this is the beginning of autumn, where most of the flowering is over. They have banks of azaleas, larger than I have ever seen, that would be truly spectacular in May. As well as rhododendron trees, the Japanese Maples were adding color as they changed from green to hues of red and the impatiens were still providing a pop of color wherever they were planted. 

The money shot?

Or is this one?

The gardens and lawn areas were spread along the shore of the lake and up the side of the hill. There was, as expected, the ubiquitous grand villa, a chapel and green houses. All very impressive and well worth the cost of admission to assist with the upkeep of such a beautiful estate.

The Villa Melzi.

We then ventured back to town to check out the wine shops we had walked past earlier. No deal. They were, as they say, tourist traps. Very expensive. 

Is there a message in this? A butterfly on a drain.

Alora, we walked back to the pier to await our ferry and return to Varenna. Happily, we did not have to queue first for tickets, as we clutched the prized round trip return tickets in our hands. Once back on familiar turf, we went to our favorite store to purchase some wine and walked home to construct a light dinner of small toasted bread, bruschetta style tomatoes, cheese and cold meats. What a life.

The crowd at the ferry terminal as we watched safely from our balcony.

Alla prossima

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.