Lake Como

Varenna Lakefront

Lake Como is the best known of 3 roughly parallel glacial lakes in the Italian Alps northwest of Milan.  It’s been a retreat for the wealthy since Roman times and many plutocrats have, over the centuries, built villas there.  Despite its mountainous location, which provides some spectacular scenery, the climate is Mediterranean, so tropical plants can thrive.  In shape, Como is long and skinny.  Viewed from above, it looks something like a running stick man, with Bellagio in the crotch, Menaggio on the west hip, and Varenna on the east hip.  It was our first visit to Como and the Italian Lakes, so we chose Varenna as our base on Rick Steves’ recommendation.  I don’t always agree with Steves, but I find his guide books generally more useful than those of his competitors.  Because these mid-lake towns are only 15 minutes apart by ferry, and, as in Venice, the ferries run constantly (there are both passenger-only and car/passenger ferries), it’s like they’re all part of a single city.  Varenna is the smallest, so it’s a good place to start. 



Stairs in Varenna



We got there in mid-afternoon and had explored most of the town by dinnertime.  Because of the steep terrain, exploring any of these lake towns entails a lot of stair climbing, and in Varenna the stairs are particularly steep.  I had to wonder how elderly people could manage, because, in addition to being steep, the steps were of uneven height and pitch.  (Our hotel was on the main pedestrian route through town, about 3 flights up from the lakefront, and our room was a 3^rd floor walkup, albeit with a terrace and a great view.)  In addition, many of the walkways were paved with river stones, which played havoc with Frieda’s heels, and not only hers, since Italian women, unlike Americans, rarely wear sneakers.  She consoled herself by buying a dress.  Then we found a lakefront café to sit in, have a couple beers, appreciate the view, and people-watch.  Varenna was quiet, serene, and undeniably charming.  It reminded Frieda a little of Vernazza, in the Cinque Terra, but ritzier.  However, we were still missing Venice and, to me, Varenna seemed too small for a long stay.  We supped at the restaurant attached to our hotel, on a terrace facing the lake, which started out delightful but by the time we reached the end of our delicious and leisurely meal, it had gotten dark and, despite the romantic view of the lights of Menaggio across the lake, had turned uncomfortably cold. 



Bellagio



The morning was cool and overcast, threatening rain.  There’s a steel walkway (passerella) attached to the cliff face that leads from the lakefront to the ferry (traghetto) landing. We bought day passes there and headed to Bellagio, sitting in the open part of the boat so our view would be unobstructed.  We quickly discovered there was a cold wind out on the lake, but we braved it in order to see Bellagio from the water.  Bellagio is larger than Varenna and more pretentious; somewhat reminiscent of Portofino on the Italian Riviera.  It also has a lot of stairs, but the flights are wider and gentler in slope and the pavement is a little more even.  There are only a few narrow routes for cars to get through town and the ones that try are unappreciated by the window-shopping pedestrians who get out of the way slowly and reluctantly.  After a couple hours of exploration and an espresso, we got back on the boat and went to the next stop, Tremezzo, a more humble town on the opposite shore.  Here we found a quiet little trattoria and got some lunch: pizza Siciliana and pasta with gambiere (shrimp), both quite good.  By the time we emerged from lunch, the weather was improving, so we walked to the nearby Villa Carlotta, built in 1690, and took the tour.  The layout of the villa struck me as quite unimaginative, with identical rooms arranged symmetrically, but there were some Canova sculptures on display, the best being Amor and Psyche.  Also, the gardens were pleasant.  Frieda particularly liked a walkway along the front of the villa formed by parallel rows of orange and lemon trees tied to a trellis, but again, the pebble paths were a trial in her heels.  Next we went to Menaggio, where we had heard one could catch a bus to the Swiss city of Lugano, on the lake of the same name. 



Chess Players in Lugano



In the morning we set off early for Lugano.  Because it was ready to leave when we got to the landing, we took the car ferry.  Over time I grew fond of the ferries with their promise of freedom and adventure.  The car ferries cut a particularly enchanting figure from our balcony as they plied the lake, shuttling cars and people hither and thither.  It was cold and foggy on the lake, again threatening rain, but in Menaggio, as we found our way to the bus stop, it warmed, and as the bus wound along the narrow Italian roads I even got too warm, but couldn’t wrestle the window open.  Then, around a blind corner, we came face-to-face with an RV (“caravan” in Europe).  The driver slammed on the brakes and both Frieda and I slid off the seat, which had an open space in front of it, and landed on the floor.  Amidst a barrage of expletives and hand gestures, the driver put the bus in reverse and backed up to let the obstacle pass.  I moved to a seat that had a functional seat belt.  After nearly an hour to travel about 12 miles, we were dropped at the edge of a car park.  From the size of the buildings it was clear that Lugano was a real city, not an overgrown boutique like Varenna or Bellagio.  We walked along a rushing, rocky river toward the lake shore, near which we found a pedestrian bridge that led across the stream to a park with elaborate, lovely flower gardens.  You could feel the cultural shift from chaotic, expressive Italy to orderly, buttoned-down Switzerland.  A couple of men were playing chess with knee-high pieces as we strolled along the water front, the triumph of intellect over the rampant emotion south of the border.  The weather by now was sunny and warm, although not as clear as one might have hoped.  We turned into town and found a restaurant with a covered patio near the square to have a leisurely lunch.  We paid with a credit card so we wouldn’t have to buy any Swiss francs, and then made our way back to the bus stop.  In Varenna, when we returned, we got perhaps the best gelato of the trip at a little place by the waterfront. 



View from Monastero



On our last day we considered taking a ride to Como, all the way down at the southern end of the western leg of the lake, past Clooney’s villa in Laglio, but in the end rejected that idea in favor of staying in Varenna, relaxing (which is what the lakes are all about), and touring the Villa Monastero, which, although less noted, we preferred to the Villa Carlotta.  The more interesting rooms were filled with antique inlaid and carved furniture and there was a vintage bathroom with a sunken tub.  It gave you a more intimate peek into the lives of the financial elite in the 19^th century.  Plus the fabulous gardens stretched on for what seemed like half a kilometer along the lakeshore, with winding pathways, stairs, statues, fountains, lookouts at stunning vistas, and gazebos.  They even had tables set up in the shade of trees near the main estate where you could sit and have refreshments.  It was so serene and relaxing that we stayed for quite a while.  When we finally got back to the Varenna lakefront around 2 o’clock all the cafes were full so we returned to our hotel room and ate sandwiches on our terrace, which had a spectacular view of the lake and the mountains behind.  The air was so balmy that below us teenagers were swimming (despite warnings that the lake wasn't clean enough for it here) and sunbathing on the dock.  I could hear strains of “Hey, Soul Sister” coming from their boom box. 

Car Ferry

In the evening Frieda treated me to dinner at Vecchia Varenna, a romantic ristorante with tables on a deck over the water.  The deck is covered and sheltered on three sides, only the lake side being completely open, which was fortunate because it started sprinkling just as we left our hotel and no sooner were we seated than the skies opened up.  It rained cats and dogs for about 20 minutes, drumming on the canopy roof, dimming the view of the far shore, and refreshing the air, but by the time our main course (trout) arrived it had pretty much stopped.  Despite the rain and the open lake side, it was still comfortable, so we lingered and got a bit drunk before going back to the hotel to pack.       

The next day was sunny again as we made our way to the train station to set off for Milan.