In Bellagio, going down to the harbor
In America, one must be something, but in Italy one can simply be.
-Pietros Maneos
Continued from last blog…
In the morning, on the day after our arrival in Como, Phyllis and I walk down to the harbor to catch a ferry out onto the lake. There are many ferries available, and tour boats of various sizes and routes. We pick the one that goes to Bellagio. Bellagio is a village in the crotch of the inverted “y” that is the shape of the lake. It is billed as the “Pearl of Lake Como” and seems like a nice place to explore. Along the way, the boat stops at many of the other villages that line both sides of the lake. We could get off and look around in those other towns, but we only have one day and we decide to go straight for Bellagio.
Bellagio is on a hill and, because of its location in the middle of the lake, it’s possible to look out over all three branches of the lake from there. With its narrow cobblestone streets and old Italian architecture (some buildings are from the 13th century), it’s even more quaint than Como. The streets we use have very few cars on them and are filled with pedestrian traffic. Some are narrowed further by outdoor restaurants that add to the old European atmosphere. There are many tourists here, but not so many that it feels crowded. I can’t help but feel like taking a seat at one of the sidewalk cafes, sipping at a macchiato and nibbling on a cannoli while wondering at life and the universe. But we are here to explore, and, after a lunch of real Italian pizza, we’re off on foot to do just that.
The ambience here is one of the slow-paced life of leisure. It isn’t hard at all to imagine people, for hundreds of years, coming here to spend the hottest days of the year kicking back in the shade, trying to stay cool without breaking into a sweat. I could see myself coming here to write a novel — with Waldo, of course. I’ve seen dogs here in just about every kind of venue you can imagine. There aren’t many, but they’re everywhere. I’ve stopped and petted them on trains and buses, in restaurants and bars and on sidewalks. None of them wear a “Support Animal” harness, they’re just accepted as part of the crowd. Waldo would fit in well here.
In the afternoon, Phyllis and I return to Como and the next morning, we go to the train station to head back to Sion. Because we don’t expect the floods to have abated in the two days we’ve been gone, we go to the ticket counter and ask them if we’ll have to go back the way we came or can take a more direct route. They tell us that they have no way of knowing what the conditions are in Switzerland and can’t find out. They suggest we go to Milano and figure it out from there. So, that’s what we do and it was a mistake. We get on a train run by the wrong company going to a place we don’t have a ticket for (originally, we were supposed to go to Chiasso, not Milano). When asked for our tickets, we can’t provide the right ones. So, we have to buy tickets on the train which is very expensive. Don’t get on a train in Europe without the right ticket.
Eventually, we get to Chiasso, go to a Swiss train ticket office and discover that, indeed, we have to retrace our steps through Zurich and Bern, with train changes and bus rides. We change our tickets and head back into Switzerland. Once we get to Visp, we have to board a bus to go to Sierre. I’m amused by a sign in the windshield of the bus. It says, in French, “bus de remplacement,” which translates from French into English easily enough. Right below that, in German, it says “ersatzbus,” which I surely hope doesn’t translate the way an English speaker might think it would (in English, “ersatz” means a poor imitation). Finally, after many hours, we get back to Haute Nendaz and relax.
During this entire trip, I phone the Pooch Hotel to check on Waldo every day to every other day. In between the times I phone, they send me texts and emails with pictures of him and assure me he is doing fine and having a good time. I know that’s not the whole story. After all, he isn’t going on long walks the way we do, he’s not at home and, well, he’s not with me. I’m sure his life has been turned upside-down with all the changes that have happened and he has no idea why they happened. But, at least, he’s being cared for, is well fed and exercised. The American Border Collie Association recommends 3 to 4 hours of exercise a day and that is what the Pooch Hotel tells me he is getting. Still, I miss my buddy.
And this won’t last too much longer.
Lake Como from the top of Bellagio.