Befitting the relaxed nature of our current destination, we
awoke this day with not much on our minds in wondering what to do past a boat
ride up the lake to Bellagio. We all slept in a bit before stumbling downstairs
for the continental breakfast.
This was followed by a little aimless wondering around the
town itself, interrupted briefly by a quick stop at the ticket booth to reserve
our seats for the boat ride, but quickly picked up again around an assortment of
shops and open air markets selling any number of goods and souvenirs. We toiled
here a while really, merely passing the time before our ship set sail for the
luxurious environs of Bellagio. As is my wont in such settings, I was happy
merely to wonder around town a bit, hitting up the usual hotspots, such as the
town cathedral, a modest Duomo; modest of course being a relative term over here
where Europe’s modest architectural achievements may be considered incredible back home.
In
this case, modest meant a mid-sized cathedral, the beginning of its construction
dating back to the 14th century, done in a mix of gothic and
Renaissance era architecture. You know…modest. Of course, digging deeper I found
the cathedral is much more than that, especially its history. It’s considered to
be the last gothic cathedral constructed in Italy. Not so modest after all I guess. To
me, it seemed a perfect cathedral for a town the size of Como. No need to be as
imposing as St Mark’s, St. Peter’s, or the Duomos of Florence and Milan, yet
Como’s cathedral still demands your attention.
We all met back up eventually to head down to the lake shore
and catch our boat to Bellagio. Our view thus far of Lake Como had been
magnificent from the south bank, enhanced by another clear, blue sky day, the
kind we always seem to find in Italy, or have to this point on our (me, Ryan,
and Will) two trips to the Boot. It was still a cold day, but it wasn’t nearly
as bothersome with the Italian sun on our backs.
We boarded the boat, found some seats, and prepared for the
short voyage to Bellagio. Of course, half the reason for going up to Bellagio
was to just be able and cruise on the lake and take in the beautiful scenery,
with the mountains rising above the water and charming towns nestled lakeside here
and there at the foot of these mountains. Traveling up the lake, we were
continuously on the lookout for famous lake houses we thought we might’ve seen
before in films like “Casino Royale”, “Star Wars II”, and “Ocean’s 12”. We came
across – or at least think we came across - the plush villas of such luminaries
as George Clooney and the late Gianni Versace. 
As our lake cruise sped northward
through this spectacular setting, it was no wonder that such famous faces were
eager to own second homes amidst such natural beauty. My only real regret was
that many of the trees were shorn of their leaves and greenery. Not that this
came as a surprise in the early days of winter, but it made me long for a visit
here during a warmer part of the year when the vegetation was in full bloom or
at least still flourishing. I think such timing will be on the cards for my next
sojourn to Europe. I’ve traveled across it twice now during the holiday season,
and that is a great time to do so, especially if you find yourself in the Alps,
but I’m ready to see what a warmer Europe has to offer.
A colder Europe still offered enough promise this day though as we
made our way up the lake towards Bellagio, eventually covering the thirty or so
kilometers that separates it from Como. Upon disembarking at the ferry, we were
met instantly with the idyllic, Italian charm that one would probably associate
with a small community like Bellagio, set on the lake and surrounded by
mountains as it is. This sort of front door into Bellagio kind of reminded me of
Epcot at Disney World. If you’ve been there, you know Epcot is divided into
countries. It’s just a little section of the park that’s suppose to represent a
particular country, usually displaying some of that country’s architectural
hallmarks in a village like setting. If you walk into France, you’ll see a
miniature Eiffel Tower and setting like you would see along the Seine. Germany
looks like some Bavarian village or a town from one of Grimm’s Fairly Tales.
China has the great wall and the distinct Chinese roof architecture. So on and so forth.
Well, stepping foot in Bellagio seemed to me kind of like
setting foot in the Italian Pavilion at Epcot. There was no miniature replica of
the Colosseum, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, or anything like that, but it felt
like stepping into the front end of something like a typical Italian village,
albeit one that is on a beautiful lake. We actually first set foot upon a kind
of car park, but it was one that kind of acted as the entrance at the bottom of
the town, which is actually set upon a fairly steep hill. Spend some time in
Italy and you’ll see that they love to mix colors with the buildings in their town layout. It was
no different here where the first buildings we saw were pink and yellow. There
were shops here that we briefly stopped at, but we soon dashed up a long, wide
stairway that climbed into the heart of the small town. What we found mostly
were a few small shops and restaurants here and there, nothing too touristy;
just a nice, serene place to walk around. I’m sure during the summer time there
is a bit more going on, a bit more to do, but there wasn’t much happening this
day. 
Some in our party did a a bit of shopping, and
some might’ve grabbed a bite to eat, but mostly we just walked around, checking
out the various villas and courtyards best we could since most of them were kind
of blocked off from us. Otherwise, we were on an endless search for a good vista
from which to take in the lake and the surrounding mountains. Our search proved
mostly fruitless due to the restrictive nature of much of the property in town,
but we eventually found our way down to the edge of the peninsula which Bellagio
sits on. Lake Como is roughly shaped like an upside down Y, like the legs and
torso of somebody running, and Bellagio and its peninsula lie at the
intersection of the lake.
The edge of this peninsula is guarded by a stone wall
and walkway that surrounds a small marina at the bank of the lake. The view
afforded from these ramparts allowed you to look down the barrel of the gun so to
speak. To the North, the lake continued until you reached its northernmost port,
Colico. If we looked to our right, Eastward, we saw the stem of the lake that
breaks off and heads down to Lecco. Looked to the left, Westward, and we saw the
stem that heads down to Como, which is the way we came up. The mountains are
quite imposing at this point of the lake, so the panoramic view was quite
stunning. Cameras were definitely out and pointing and clicking in a variety of
directions, trying to capture on film all that lay before us.
After this brief interlude, we eventually found our way back
to the boat dock to catch our ride back to Como. Once back at the ferry, the wait time for
the next boat afforded us a nice photo op on the lake with some local ducks. The
return voyage proved to be uneventful and relaxing as we took in more of the
famous villas amidst the lakeside setting. By the time we got back to Como, we
were in something like Lazy Sunday mode. Some of us continued to aimlessly walk
around town while others went back to the hotel to have themselves a siesta or
just wind down for a bit in general before dinner. Some of us, however, myself
included, had not really eaten much since breakfast, and as you can imagine,
while walking around picturesque Italian towns you can work up quite an
appetite. Despite the fact that dinner wasn’t that far away, maybe just a few
hours – daylight was already beginning to fade a bit by this point – me and a
few others journeyed to a little park area near the lakeshore where there was a
Panini stand. A few Euros later and I had helped myself to a pretty filling,
late afternoon snack. I feared I may have ruined my dinner, but I didn’t care.
Had to be done. Now I was content to retire to my room for a couple of hours to
escape the ever colder air that met us with dusk and recharge the batteries a
bit before dinner.
Will had made us a reservation ahead of time at a place
called Imbarcadero Restaurant, but for whatever reason, we ended up foregoing
the opportunity. We must have all been on a slightly different wavelength
because the whole group could not agree on where to eat and we ended up
splitting up and eating dinner in two separate groups. Initially, the entire
group came across a place along the Eastern shore of the lake that looked
accommodating enough and we walked in and waited to be seating. Well, as we were
about to take our seats, half the group decided to break away. In my journal I
later wrote that “some of our party rudely walked out of where we were eating at
because basically the Italian food was not American centric enough.” So…we’ll go
with that. So as not to call anyone out, I’ll refrain from saying who it was
that “rudely walked out” - hint…it was Beth, the Grant’s, and the Crabtree’s -
but me and Will weren’t crazy about it. We even joked that when we met back up
with the rest of the group, we were sure we would hear some hyperbolic stories
about how they just ate the greatest meal ever known to man. You’d have to ask
them.
For those who stayed – me, my parents, Will, Christine, and
Kevin – our meal was certainly memorable enough. I say that of course without
remembering what I had, but Will swears to this day that they had the best
ravioli he’s ever tasted. We drank some Limoncello, a drink more often
associated with Southern Italy, and it warmed us on a cold night. It also
provided some laughs in the way of my Dad’s continuing, bumbling dialogue that
he struck up with our plus-sized waitress from Switzerland, whose name was Olga.
We got to know her a lot better throughout the evening than we might’ve expected to.
We also struck up a pleasant conversation with some fellow Americans sitting
next to us. They had a daughter who was studying in Rome and they had come out
to visit her and travel around Italy. She was the envy of Will for she had
earlier that Autumn been to a soccer match at the Stadio Olimpico between his
beloved Roma and Manchester United.
It was a very pleasant and typical Italian dining experience.
We actually stayed at the restaurant until our rogue group came walking back
down the street and we went back out into the cold night air to meet back up
with them. It didn’t take long for them to tell us that they had indeed just had
one of the best meals of the trip. Will and I probably smirked and rolled our
eyes at each other, but no hard feelings were harbored for either side of the
group. We made peace and retired to our hotel, content to call it a night and
prepare for tomorrow’s train ride to Florence.
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