I woke before 7:00 am, two hours before my breakfast. I was not thrilled that I had to wait, but the Orange House did not have a main dining area but instead served breakfast in the individual units and guests were served at specific times.
I organized my laundry so that I could drop it off after breakfast and then went out for a pre-breakfast walk. It was overcast, but at least the rain had stopped.
Varenna is a small town with a population of less than 1,000. Buildings sit on the hillside above the harbour and are separated by narrow walkways and stairs.
I had thought that I might share my breakfast with my upstairs neighbour, Al, but he had already eaten and was checking out. He said a quick goodbye and thanked me again for letting him in the night before. I was sorry to see him go. I dined on my own both times.
The breakfast was tasty if not necessarily the healthiest. There was a croissant with cream, crepes with strawberries, and a cappuccino with a smile in chocolate sprinkles.
My plan for the day was a ferry ride on Lake Como to Bellagio, but first I had to drop off my laundry. I dodged the puddles while juggling my plastic bag full dirty clothes and my umbrella. The latter was needed since the rain had begun again. At one point I realized that my bag was open. I walked back down the road to see if anything had fallen out but did not see anything.
I dropped off the laundry at 9:30 and was told that it would be 30% extra for same day service. It was too late to worry about that. I did not know what it would cost. I was just happy to be relieved of my laundry duties.
I took the stairs down to the ferry terminal. I only had to wait a few minutes for the next one. Varenna is especially lovely when seen from the lake.
It was a short ride across to Bellagio.
Lake Como is shaped like an inverted Y. Bellagio has a special location at the point where the two lower portions merge into the northern branch. Bellagio is bigger than Varenna with a population just under 4,000. Many of the homes are owned by the super wealthy. It also has a glitzy Las Vegas hotel casino named after it. That was all I knew about it.
My only plan was to do some walking. It was a rare morning at Lake Como without the rain that had been falling for days.
The church of San Giacomo was built in the 11th century.
I had pizza on a terrace with a nice view.
My circular route took me back down to the water. I was only a few minutes from the ferry terminal, so I debated whether to catch a boat back to Varenna or keep walking. I went with the latter and headed off in the other direction.
I did not get far. There was a big flash of lightning, and big black clouds were moving in. I turned around and hurried to the ferry.
I bought my ticket and joined the line. I did not wait long.
The skies opened wide as we made our way across the lake. The downpour was accompanied by thunder and lightning.
The ferry went first to Mennagio, the town directly across the lake, before going on to Varenna.
I walked along the little harbour and up the hill.
I got tired of walking in the rain and returned to the hotel for a brief rest and a chance to dry out, but I did not stay long. My plan for the afternoon had been a walk up the hill to the thousand-year-old castle, the Castello di Vezio. It looked interesting and was supposed to have a fabulous view of Lake Como.
The stone pathway to the castle was steep and quite slippery. It was hard going up, and I thought to myself that it was going to be even more difficult to come down. Sometimes I accept my age limitations, and this was one of those times. I could not risk a fall. I was also wondering how much I was going to see through the rain and fog. I turned around.
I needed a coffee. I walked through a side door to a courtyard bar where I could then see that it was part of a nice hotel, a place that was a few rungs higher than my current accommodation. The prices in the bar reflected that. But the rain was falling harder. I ordered a cappuccino.
The young lady bartender was kind enough to send me on a shortcut through the hotel to the upper road. My laundry was ready and only cost 14 Euros, including the one-day charge. I was expecting more. They had it wrapped in a plastic bag which made it easier to carry.
I returned to my room and opened my bag of freshly laundered clothes. There was one lonely sock not matched with a partner. I did not blame the laundry; I was sure that it had fallen out of my bag. My brief disappointment was tempered when I saw that the missing sock was from an old pair of hiking socks, and I had a matching pair. It happened that there was a hole in one of the socks. It pays to keep old things for no apparent reason. I put the two good socks together and finally threw away the bad one.
It was still raining when I went out to find some supper, so I borrowed one of the big umbrellas next to the door. The first place asked if I had a reservation. “No? Sorry.” The next place offered an outside table, but it was cool and damp. I tried the same place as the evening before but found that it closed on Thursdays. Really, on Thursdays? My next stop only served drinks. I was getting quite tired of being turned away.
I had seen a take-out pizza place near the laundry. Even though I had already had a pizza for lunch, I headed that way. I ordered a pizza and looked longingly at their cooler full of beer. I wondered if the beers required an opener and if so, would there be one in my room. I took my chances.
This was not a night to find a park bench. I had to get my pizza to my Varenna home, and unlike my nicely wrapped laundry from the afternoon, this was in a cardboard box. It was still raining quite hard, and now the wind was really blowing. I had the beer in my pocket, the box in one arm, and the big umbrella in the other. Even though it was bigger and stronger than my little travel umbrella, I struggled to keep it from flipping inside out. It did once, but I fought hard and kept my pizza dry while I was getting wet.
The pizza was dry. It was also quite cold, and I am not a fan of cold pizza. I did find an opener. At least the beer was good. It was not a great last meal in Italy.
I was happy to be packing a suitcase full of clean things. I had an early train in the morning, the same Italian one that brought me here. I would then board my first of many Swiss trains.
This featured blog entry was written by Bob Brink from the blog Searching for Magical Moments.
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