Day 22: Blevio to Lugano

We woke up somewhat on time and got to packing up all our stuff. We had it down to a reasonably fine art by this stage. Well, I did. Matt helped by trying to put all my clothes on my head as I folded, then photographing the result (thanks Matt). Matt retrieved the remainder of our milk from the little fridge and drained it. I managed to capture an action shot of my classy man complete with milk drips falling onto his shirt.

We then headed downstairs for a quick breakfast on Alessandro's balcony (table still slightly prosecco stained), and Matt was feeling smug because he'd brought his own granola. Bit awkward when Alessandro's mum popped out and he thrust it in front of me while I was distracted by the cat. I coerced Alessandro into posing for this winner of a photo, before hastening down the road for the bus to Como. Which didn't come. And then still didn't.

The other guy waiting at the stop told us in broken English that we had all missed the bus because it had been too full to stop anyway. Cheers. He suggested we hitch and make 'some good friends.' Hmm. It was only a 5-10 minute drive, but about an hour and a half to walk, down really narrow high speed windy roads with no pavement. And the next bus? Two hours later. And likely also full. While we hesitated, he smiled boadly with his thumb out to the road. One car actually pulled over, and he seemed to know the guy because they were talking and joking in Italian. The bus stop guy waved us over and said, 'This is my friend- he take you to Como stazione. I get next friend car.'

I was unsure about the idea, having watched too many episodes of Law & Order, but seeing he had a baby seat and we had no real alternative, Matt nodded and we hopped in. He didn't speak any English really, but I sort of got by in Italian, and we chatted all the way down. He was actually a really nice guy called Paolo, with a two year old baby Judita, and just wanted to help out some tourists and do a bit of promotion for his own B&B down the road. He dropped us right at the station we needed and unloaded our bags. Champ.  We then got on the 11:45 to Lugano. Except that the famed and reliable Swiss rail service we've always heard about was late for the only time ever and the :45 was actually the :39, and we were on the wrong train. We switched at the next stop, bolted through the station and straight past customs (no one seemed to care) and just made our actual connection.

Along the way we saw from the window an awesome-looking pool and tennis courts, etc, right on the beach of the lake. Excellent concept. We resolved to find it after we'd checked in and dropped our bags at the hotel.  Arriving in Lugano, the first thing we saw was the green/blue lake and the church dome of the town. We paid for our Bernina Express tickets for the next day (ouch) and found a bus that said Paradiso, which we thought was where our hotel was. Why not? We jumped on. Luckily at the end of the route, I spotted our hotel sign, we hopped off, checked in, and were changed and on our way to this pool/beach/Lido di Lugano/heaven.

It was awesome. 10 francs entry to paradise. Clear, hot, sunny day. Cold, clear lake with mountains on every side. Big sandy beach. Outdoor bar. Pools. Table tennis. Real tennis. Another bar. And a huge grill area. Does something like this exist in melbourne??!! Someone point me in October, if so. Matt talked me into the freezing lake water one meter at a time ('No goosebumps? Another meter') and we swam around with some wild swans for a bit (why not), before drying off and laying out in the hot sun to read with some mojitos and snacks.

As the evening wore on, it really filled up. There was a big group of Italian friends and their kids in front of us, with one baby, no more than two or three years old. He wandered up to the bar behind us and asked in Italian for 'un acqua' about four times, but the bartender couldn't see him below the level. Enterprising little guy then started throwing his cup in the air to get their attention all the while chanting 'acqua acqua', until we took pity and went over to help.

Matt lined up for 10 minutes with kids under age 8 to make the jump below

Five hours later, we packed up and decided to walk home along the lake front, grabbing burgers on the way, which we ate on park benches overlooking the water.

Early morning tomorrow and travel day through the Alps on the Bernina Express!

Day 21: Blevio and Lake Como

We had breakfast out on Alessandro's porch, overlooking beautiful lake Como. Alessandro's lovely mom Adriana had laid it out for us.

Alessandro was presumably inside-- we could hear the ping ping ping sounds of computerised machine gun fire and point earning from his 'study.' It was just him and his mom living there, and though he had said it was his house, we were beginning to think that he may have been taking advantage of her lack of English skills -- this was looking like more of a mummy's boy scenario than he had let on. When she brought him a lunch tray, we had our clincher.

Breakfast finished (Matt awarded it bonus points for cocoa puffs, but detracted for lack of granola) we headed off on foot to find the stairs to the lake that Alessandro had promised were five minutes away. An hour and four failed attempts later, we decided to just get the bus into Como and wander around. We were also really close to the famous lake front town Belaggio (which the Vegas casino is named after), but wanted to check out Como first. 

We packed sandwiches and walked for hours around the lake, enjoying the hot sun and searching for kayak rentals that were not closed, abandoned, or ludicrously expensive. No joy. What we did find though was a friendly guy renting out hourly kiddie pedal boats. Sold. 

Our lakeworthy craft was likely stapled together in 1958 and left to sit in the sun since then. We could admire the blue water through rust holes in the boats bottom, and quickly learned that the pedals and steering wheel were really more decorative than functional, as we pedaled furiously and drifted randomly on other boats wakes. 

Despite this, we had an awesome time, hailing other small crafts (including some unamused local fishermen), sunbathing, and randomly blowing around the water at half a mile per hour. Finally the wind changed direction and we were able to hobble  back, with the aid of a passing super ferry that flew past us.

We then took a steep funicular (cable car) up to a tiny town above Como, called Brunate, which was meant to have some great restaurants. We were a bit pressed for time, as the last bus to Blevio was helpfully at 8pm. We can't tell you if the restaurants in Brunate were as good as promised, but they must be doing either really really well or really really badly, because every single one was closed when we arrived around 6:45. Typical. We enjoyed the views and caught the next car down. 

Como, as seen from Brunate

Once back in Como, we had only a few minutes so divided up three crucial elements: Matt - pizza and pasta. Audrey- prosecco. We met back at the bus stop ten minutes later, each successful, and had another delicious porch picnic at 'home' while watching the sun set over the lake.

Day 20: Mogliano Veneto to Blevio

Alright, today's the day, no muckin' round. Early start, let's get to Como.. Every time we agree to make an early start and reach our destination at a reasonable hour, and every time we get distracted or detoured or lost. Venice to Como was about a 5 hour drive, and we had to return the little Oopi once we got there.


Our accommodation for the night was in Blevio, a small community just a couple of km up the road from Como. It is still right on the lake, but slightly elevated on the mountainside too. The drive itself was fairly unremarkable as we stuck to the autostrada and powered through the countryside. We made another stop at one of the roadside services for a meal, this time we chose the rather prestigious sounding Autogrill. Same story – many people, long queues and overpriced snacks. Nothing grilled there either as far as I could tell.


By this stage we were quite familiar with Italian driving habits, and yet they still had the capacity to scare the crap out of us. As the roads merged on the outskirts of Venice, again approaching peak-hour (we somehow manage that every time) more madness ensued. I was on high-alert for all the standard nonsense. The one rule they all seem to be quite good at is keeping to the right – left lane is for express traffic, use it to overtake and then get back across as soon as possible. Unlike Aus where you can find all three lanes clogged with everyone doing a frustrating 98kmh.


At some point during that journey we began to wonder whether the Italians treat the bedroom the same way as the autostrada.

1. Going far too fast
   
2. Changing lanes without indicating first
   
3. Drifting back and forth between lanes
   
4. Having to pay (Price depends on how far you went, and where you got off)
   
5. It's poor form to be doing something else at the same time (ie, reading or texting)
   
6. Something about headlights or high-beams
   
7. Seeing all the hot Italian and German models go by, and wanting one
   

I'm sure there were more, but you get the idea. Please send in your thoughts :)


When we finally got to Como we had just under an hour and a half before the Oopi was due to be returned. Plenty of time for us to drive the short distance to Blevio, meet our new host, drop our bags off, maybe even a little grocery shopping before leaving the car in Como... right? Well it took some 40 minutes to get to Blevio – narrow roads and construction work make for very slow going. We then managed to overshoot the place, the directions weren't great. Finally we locate it and bustle in with our bags. Alessandro (Alex) and his mum welcome us very warmly, show us about the house, and while we have ants in our pants to get going back to return the car, he very slowly and deliberately explains how we should get there, and the bus details to get back.


OK. Great. Thanks. Byeeee. See you soon... “Oh and one more thing, when you leave, you must always hang the room key here, like this. And then take the front door and gate keys from here”
Aaah ... Okey dokey. Gotta run..!


Navagatrix puts in a stellar final performance, we arrive at the Budget office with 2 minutes to spare. Fortunately traffic was a little more forgiving on the way into town. They check it over and give them thumbs up. It seems like they even forgot about the 60 Euro one-way charge. Bonus! (Mental note: check they didn't just take it off my Aussie credit card ….)


We find a real supermarket for the first time in forever, and excited to have access to a real live FRIDGE we even get some ham, cheese, tomato, pesto and bread for some DIY sandwiches. Cheapo lunch organised for tomorrow, retro-tick! Yogurt and fresh fruit, and some cereal for breakfast... why not?! We have a fridge and shall eat like Kings.


We retreat back to Alessandro's to piece together another another salady type meal, with extra meat. Share a bottle of wine on the balcony as the sun sets. Life is good.

Tomorrow we'll spend the day in Como so we spend a little time looking at what's to be seen and done, then off to bed.

Day 19: Venice day two

Second day in Venice, and the team was up and at em, eating a substantial brekkie of rice cake under a silken dragon motif on the wall. Yum.

We typically had missed our train, so read up on Venice and its various tours while waiting for the next one, booking a walking tour for that night. 

Seasoned as we were at this point with the Italian trains, we'd finally worked out that they never ever check tickets. So we ran for our train and daringly jumped on board last minute without visiting the kiosk first. Unfortunately, Murphy's law was golden, and this was the only ticket that got  checked our whole trip. Slammed with a 15 euro fine. Ah well, coulda been worse. Lesson learned.

We spent the rest of the day wandering and getting lost. Venice is beautiful and we just strolled around, pausing occasionally to pose heroically, creep on English speaking tours, consume gelato, etc.

Now I've noticed that when I'm travelling, I'll sometimes mistake a complete stranger (likely from another country) with a friend or family member. This had been happening t both of us constantly, but just near piazza San Marco, we spotted him: our awesome housemate Matt Connor. In Venice and he hadn't even told us. Ok, maybe not actually him, but possibly his long lost twin, complete with tattoo sleeve. 278ers, appreciate:

That mission accomplished, we returned to more heroic posing and faking random accents, though my default (aka only reliable one) is Indian. More reliable than my weird half-American accent these days actually. 

Rain was threatening, so we smugly nabbed prime spot at a restaurant's covered terrace to wait it out. And wait more. Sub par meal finished and faux pas cappuccino consumed (apparently bad taste to have a cappuccino after your meal), it still hadnt rained.  I stretched out that thimble sized cappuccino, taking about half an hour to finish it, and we realized we really couldn't hold out any longer, so left. As the rain hit. 

Luckily it didn't last long, and we sat in the piazza waiting for our night tour while I called my mama to wish her happy birthday. :)

Happy birthday, mama!!

Bridge of Sighs

Matt then reported that our night tour was only going to be us, and our charming guide Andreas, a Venetian local, took us all around the city. One of my favourite stories he told us was about a pre medieval revolutionary who had planned to murder the ruler of Venice and all his men in the doges palace in order to gain power. OK, I'll tell the story. At night, as the man and his followers made their way down a narrow alley (now packed with souvenir stands) they were found out, and a huge swordfight began. An old woman peeked down from her window and nudged her mortar and pestle off the sill, directly onto the revolutionary's head, killing him and saving the city. The nameless old woman is immortalized with a small statue, high on the wall where she once lived.

Andreas also told us about the corruption among the city's gondoliers (you needed millions of euros or the right connections to hold a coveted license), showed us many hidden alleys and architectural curiosities, including a graffiti man drawn in the 1700s and the houses of ancient guilds, and generally was good fun to be around.

Matt's attempt to right the most crooked doorway in the city

Our tour finished around midnight, and we grabbed one of the last trains back 'home.' Big day tomorrow.

Day 18: Venice

Goooooooood morning Mogliano. I love the smell of Italian/Chinese/Japanese cuisine in the morning.

When we finally woke from our salt-induced comas, we found a beautiful sunny day awaiting us. As usual, we had neglected to prepare or plan anything for the day, and a brief bit of research over breakfast showed we were already going to be too late to catch most of the guided tours that morning. We finished up our plastic croissants and headed for the train station. About a ten minute walk and a 20 minute train ride later, we walked straight out of Venice's main station and into our first pun of the day -

MonkDonalds. He's lovin' it.

Contrary to my naïve vision of the city, there were also walkways and streets and not just canals everywhere. We followed the main street through all the tourist schlock and manage to lose and rejoin the crowds at regular intervals. At one point we stumbled upon the central markets, brightly coloured stands of fruit and vegetables, fresh seafood and all manner of handmade trinkets.

We found a supermarket right around the time we both started feeling hungry, our breakfast hadn't exactly provided a lot of sustenance. We selected some premade salads, sandwiches and fruit drinks, and found some quiet steps to enjoy our lunch on. We took a few pictures of the residential canal we were by and pondered life in such a waterlogged environment. It was then that we noticed a small sign above our heads, and realised we'd simulateously been breaking several laws (We later also read it is against city laws to sit or eat in any areas that aren't designated for that specific purpose!). We did at least manage to find a bin for our rubbish.

We studied a rather useful map we had borrowed from the b&b and found where we thought we might be, and a few places we wanted to check out. Having now read Inferno, I was hot on the trail of Robert Langdon still and trying to recognise more sights and highlights from the book. We crossed countless canals and took about the same number of photos. We eventually made our way to Piazza San Marco in the early evening and settled in at one of the cafes for some people and pigeon watching.

Is it too late to change my mind?

There were numerous newlyweds posing for pictures, some of them looking less than enthused about the situation. Whether they were regretting a recently avowed life decision or simply the fact that they were both covered in mutant pigeons, it was hard to tell. We've started pointing out 'twins' to each other, couples who have somehow managed to dress alike. Quite common amongst the older community with BOGOF deals on beige jackets, it seems to be catching on.

One of our favourite opportunities though is taking pictures of awkward people taking pictures. Now this could be a gallery unto itself.

Dedication: She didn't appear to even know the couple

We saw people getting into rather extreme positions to take the perfect picture. There were people taking selfies of course, de rigeur at any touristic opportunity. The latest evolution of a selfie appears to be having your camera mounted on the end of a very long stick. We saw all manner of squatting, reaching and other physical contortion to get the right angle, one woman even lying on the ground. All this while fending off a constant stream of very persistent rose sellers and pigeons.

With my Indian rose selling friend

They wander around with a fistful of roses, making a beeline for any couple who look even remotely attracted to each other. Or not. They then shove a rose in the guys face and refuse to take no for an answer. “E la mia sorella” (she's my sister) seemed to misdirect a few of them, then one caught me planting a kiss on Auds cheek. “E la mia sorella?” I tried again … He laughed, thrust a second rose in my face saying “haha, I understand this too, I am Indian”. Can't make this stuff up, I didn't even realise that was a thing in India!

The live music started up as the sun was going down behind the Basilica, and we sat for a few more hours.

We finished our drinks and started hunting for somewhere to have dinner. Having seen il conto for our drinks, we didn't even want to know what the meals would have cost. We tried a few blocks further back from the main square, and found some places that looked like they served reasonably authentic food, but then we realised the train station was on the other side of the city and we didn't even know when the last train left. We asked one guy how far it was, he looked at us quizzically … “a piedi?”, he laughs … probably on foot at least 50 minutes. Great!


We got to the station in 45, take that doubting Italian, and saw that we had a train in 5 or 25. We elected for the slightly later, giving us some time to find food first. Of course there's nothing but pizza slices by the station, so we chose the least offensive (actually they were really tasty) and sat on the banks of the grand canal before heading home.


Another full day in Venice tomorrow, we'll try to book a tour and structure our day a little better this time. But first a few more photos.

Peak hour traffic jam

This one's especially for fans of the Bean movie ... I found it humorous anyway!

Day 17: Levanto to Venezia via Fugazzolo di Sopra

Another delicious and filling breakfast to start the day. We packed our bags in earnest for the long road ahead. We had just got everything sorted when Auds noticed that one of our kobos (I refused to buy a kindle for the same inexplicable reason I wholeheartedly despise apple) was missing. The room was basically empty, and neither of us had packed them. Brief panic. Standard annoying question - where did you last have it? Retracing our steps we remembered having it at the cafe for dinner the night before. Unable to find a contact number we had to drop by and see if some kindly soul had handed it in.

So we returned to Bonassola, only a 45 minute walk, but probably a 25 minute drive given the slow and windy roads. Forethought probably would have suggested that my cycling there and back would be the most efficient approach, but we were both keen to get going so we jumped into the Oopi and wound our way to the scene of the crime.

Fortunately our waitress from the night before had collected the kobo while clearing the table. She didn't sound too impressed when we came asking for it though. I guess she thought we just been passing through and probably wouldnt see us again, would have been a nice little tip for her. We got back in the car and checked the with our navagatrix - 1.5 hours via autostrada or 2 hours taking the alternative route. Not in a hurry? Save some cash? Yes thanks.

Queueing in Bonassola. Awesome.

The most direct route was back to Levanto before heading inland, but of course nothing is ever that simple. We came across a closed intersection manned by the Carabinieri. The road is closed for the next hour. Not quite sure why, some sort of public event. If we'd been just five minutes earlier the road had been open. Dammit. So we turn around, again, head back up the road and find a quiet spot overlooking the town. Enjoying the view, we have a quick snack, read, catch up on some blogging, etc. 45 minutes later we head back for the closed road to find a massive queue, it was a relief at least  know why. Almost another hour later the road finally reopened, apparently a cycle race was on, but there were a lot of stragglers causing the delay. Hmm, maybe we should have taken the autostrada, we're a little more pressed for time now. 

Also this insane fog and black clouds had rolled in, making the twisty mountain roads almost invisible. Safe. 

Ten minutes later we were in it...

Auds overriding the occasional instruction we followed the roads through towns that basically consisted of a cafe and a house. Cafe wasn't open of course, it was perpetual siesta. Eventually we reached Fugazzolo,  Audrey's ancestral italian homeland. The streets weren't really wide enough for a car to pass through; and although that hadnt stopped us in Salerno we decided not to push our luck and parked just outside the village. Set on a hill in the middle of what seemed like a rather panoramic nowhere, the place seemed to stop and stare when we ambled through looking distinctly non-local. We spent an hour or so walking around (probably in circles) admiring the quaintness and isolation of the small town.

I think I see it ...

Fugazzolo !!

We visited the church where we think Auds' great-grandparents were married, and the cemetery where there only seemed to be about three different surnames in the whole place. Old men with pipes stood in the middle of the street, chatting idly and regarding us carefully. I think at some point we wandered into someone's backyard, and somehow stumbled upon the only person in town who actually spoke English.

It turned out that Karina had spent most of her life in Switzerland, hence the language proficiency, but had returned to Fugazzolo in her retirement. She asked if she could help (ie, why were we in her yard) and we tried to explain we were looking for someone who may have known or remembered any of Aud's relatives.

Auds great grandmother had left for New York alone as an indentured servant in her teens, returning some years later for her childhood sweetheart, and they married and sailed together back to New York. There were undoubtedly many branches of that family tree still in the Fugazzolo hills though.

Thanks for your help, Karina :)

Karina's reaction and the ensuing ten minutes had to be witnessed to be believed, and was quite a surreal experience. She led us to a nearby house and started rattling on one of the windows calling Maria! Maria!!, all the while asking us for more details of Auds bisnonna Margherita. Husbands name, age, etc. Maria didn't show but another old woman threw open the shutters on her second story window and got involved, then the priest and his granddaughter came by, before half a dozen more locals popped out. Thirteen in all, standing in this tiny little village street. True story. None of them remembered Margherita (not unexpected, she was born in 1885) but they were all happy to talk at once about how they didn't know, and ask multiple times if we were sure her name was not Maria? Periodically, the woman leaning out her window would shout Aspetta!! (Wait) as if she had remembered something. She would then pause dramatically and say no, no, no. No Margherita. 

We thanked them all, said goodbye to Karina, and wandered through the cemetery before heading off.

I would have killed for a chicken parma at this stage...

We then took a few more pictures and headed for Venice. Well, more specifically, Mogliano Veneto, the cheaper town inland where you can stay if you don't have 300 to spend on housing each night. Mogliano Veneto is also apparently quite popular for its nightlife, as we learned when driving in, casually passing multiple ladies of the night, easily distinguishable by their bright stilettos, microscopic skirts, etc. 

Our feeling of comfort only increased as we drove up to our destination, which looked like this. 

On the bright side, as advertised, they serve Italian, Chinese and Japanese cuisine, sometimes in fusion. Great. We were too exhausted to brave the prossies, so we braved the food instead. Fifteen minutes later, Auds came up with a dubious tray of what looked like 4 alien shrimp still with heads and swimming in watery juice, small pile of minced chicken and salted cabbage. Everything was swimming in salt. We were so hungry we ate it all anyway, and passed out-- door locked. One point was regained for having a nice shower though.