And so to Como...
After a morning meeting up with an old Milanese friend and then exploring the Castello Sforzesco in glorious warm sunshine, we had a quick, atmospheric lunch in the thronging business quarter of Milan before hopping in the cars and heading up with The Godfather and Son to Lago di Como.
The Italian lakes have long held lyrical associations and never more so than when the likes of William Wordsworth and other poetic exponents of the Romantic Movement were wafting around their sublime shores:-
George Clooney).
Of glacial origin, Lake Como has a startling geography - a deep, dark, reflective slash between tall green hillsides ('confined as in a depth of Abyssinian privacy'). It has both drama and delight in abundance and is the perfect contrast to the more worldly pleasures of the City of Fashion, Design and Finance.
I had chosen to stay in the not-so-imaginatively named Hotel du Lac in Varenna. There are more Hotel du Lacs in the world than I've had hot dinners, but this was a little gem, and very aptly named, it has to be said. Perched on the edge of the picturesque village of Varenna, literally hanging over the eastern shore of the lake, it was all that we could have asked for. Hidden away down a minute lane off the main square (hire a small car), the car park was a challenge in itself. Once achieved, you head down some steep steps to what seems like the back door of the hotel - but the front door would require a swim. A warm welcome awaits - even though we were there on their very last night before closing for the winter season, which would have lent a charmless air to many a hotel. After terrible traffic leaving Milan, we arrived in a rush to see the sunset. Abandoning our bags in the entrance hall we threw ourselves out onto the balcony (and an unsuspecting young couple enjoying a quiet romantic drink) to capture the dying colours of the setting sun and the silhouettes of the mountains as they tumbled into the dark waters in front of us.
A glass of Prosecco inevitably followed, served charmingly by an English lady from the East End of London who came out here on a year out several decades ago and never returned, wed as she is now to the Italian she met back then. Beware those 'dark-eyed maids' (...and men, clearly).
Dinner that night was enjoyed in a lovely little restaurant called Al Prato literally two steps from the hotel in a cobbled courtyard oozing quintessential Italian lake charm and hospitality. I enjoyed three types of lake fish, all cooked differently, as it seemed appropriate but all our meals were equally delicious and took in both meat and homemade pasta all washed down with a beautiful Bardolino.
The following day dawned bright and beautiful and it was bliss to open the doors onto our little Juliet balcony and hear the lake water lapping lightly at the walls below.
I waved to The Godfather and Son who were enjoying the same vistas below us. There was nothing to do but get out there and enjoy it - which is exactly what we did.
The Italian lakes have long held lyrical associations and never more so than when the likes of William Wordsworth and other poetic exponents of the Romantic Movement were wafting around their sublime shores:-
George Clooney).
Of glacial origin, Lake Como has a startling geography - a deep, dark, reflective slash between tall green hillsides ('confined as in a depth of Abyssinian privacy'). It has both drama and delight in abundance and is the perfect contrast to the more worldly pleasures of the City of Fashion, Design and Finance.
I had chosen to stay in the not-so-imaginatively named Hotel du Lac in Varenna. There are more Hotel du Lacs in the world than I've had hot dinners, but this was a little gem, and very aptly named, it has to be said. Perched on the edge of the picturesque village of Varenna, literally hanging over the eastern shore of the lake, it was all that we could have asked for. Hidden away down a minute lane off the main square (hire a small car), the car park was a challenge in itself. Once achieved, you head down some steep steps to what seems like the back door of the hotel - but the front door would require a swim. A warm welcome awaits - even though we were there on their very last night before closing for the winter season, which would have lent a charmless air to many a hotel. After terrible traffic leaving Milan, we arrived in a rush to see the sunset. Abandoning our bags in the entrance hall we threw ourselves out onto the balcony (and an unsuspecting young couple enjoying a quiet romantic drink) to capture the dying colours of the setting sun and the silhouettes of the mountains as they tumbled into the dark waters in front of us.
A glass of Prosecco inevitably followed, served charmingly by an English lady from the East End of London who came out here on a year out several decades ago and never returned, wed as she is now to the Italian she met back then. Beware those 'dark-eyed maids' (...and men, clearly).
Dinner that night was enjoyed in a lovely little restaurant called Al Prato literally two steps from the hotel in a cobbled courtyard oozing quintessential Italian lake charm and hospitality. I enjoyed three types of lake fish, all cooked differently, as it seemed appropriate but all our meals were equally delicious and took in both meat and homemade pasta all washed down with a beautiful Bardolino.
The following day dawned bright and beautiful and it was bliss to open the doors onto our little Juliet balcony and hear the lake water lapping lightly at the walls below.
I waved to The Godfather and Son who were enjoying the same vistas below us. There was nothing to do but get out there and enjoy it - which is exactly what we did.
               
.....but ye have left
| |
| Your beauty with me, a serene accord | |
| Of forms and colours.... |
William Wordsworth
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