The next phase of our vacation was the stormy, sleepy one, where we had big, flashy storms that woke me most every night and a couple Weathery days as well, which we spent lazing about inside, watching movies, playing games, reading, cooking, and napping. When the weather was fine, like it was that Saturday, we got some fresh raisin bread from the little store up the hill and brunched outside in the cool of the morning, then went swimming in a lake topped with a layer of night rain.
One evening when the weather had cleared, we drove down to Maccagno for a walk and Romantic Pizza. As advised, we'd called ahead to reserve a table at the ristorante, and were pleasantly surprised to find they'd given us the tiniest table with the best sunset view.
It was there that I -- a true lover of dogs in all their forms -- saw one of the first pooches that I would really and truly judge as, well, ugly. Someone's precious angel, no doubt, but is that styling really necessary?
Afterwards we walked around the village alleyways on the mountainside, the old, colorful walls set a-glow by yellow streetlights.
It poured most of the last day we were there, though Steven and I did make one little excursion into Pino that ended with very wet feet.
The sky cleared again later that evening and we went for a final swim, the clouds doing fun things in front of the blue mountain silhouettes. We had the whole beach to ourselves, and felt very smug about it too.
j
One thing that surprised me was how little Italian I heard while we were there. Sure, it was Italy, bordered with the Italian-speaking region of Switzerland, but most people around us were German or German-speaking Swiss families who, like our wonderful hosts, had purchased homes there and came down for the weekends now and again. In my German guidebook it said one thing to avoid was speaking German to people, and to always try and speak Italian first. So, we learned a few phrases, and by the end could buy stamps and order gelato, say please and thank you, the necessaries, and what we didn't know we tried in English first and generally had very friendly responses that way. Many of the locals depended on their German neighbors and tourists for their income, but I'd imagine they could be a little frustrated with them too. As with all neighborly relations, I suppose.
Our last morning was spent packing and cleaning up before making our way back to the little Pino train station. Our plane didn't leave Milan until later that evening, but with the questionable reliability of the train system we decided to play it safe and gave ourselves plenty of time to get to the airport. It was a good thing we did, too, for our first train stopped in Luino, where they announced that there wasn't enough personnel to keep driving and that we'd have to take the next train south in an hour. This was not ideal, but hey, gave us time for some more super ideal gelato.
That cancellation had us miss our connecting train in Gallarate, which gave us time to walk around there as well. A pretty town with fun murals and patterns in the streets. Most everything was closed, as per the Italian tradition of taking a good chunk of summer off to go on holiday, and it felt eerily quiet.
j
Eventually we did make it back to the airport, and with plenty of time to catch our plane. For the most part we were glad for the train delays, as it gave us more time to see new places and less time spent waiting around in the less than cozy Malpensa Airport. A slow end to the loveliest of weeks. Mille grazie, grazie mille.
After a late arrival home, I had two very early mornings of new job orientation, and then headed back to the airport for Grand Summer Adventure #3: Wales. More on that later.
No comments:
Post a Comment