Lake Como, 3Sept, Day 21

I started the day off with a couple eggs in my new 10 non-stick frying pan, but for one reason or another; they stuck, and required a spatula to release them before they could be flipped. But then I chickened out on the flip, and only got them half flipped, and ended up breaking the yoke. Oh well. Then I jogged to the train station to meet Vicente on his way from Milan on the 8:25 train passing though Como on the way to Switzerland. I saw Vicente, jumped on the train, and in a half hour we arrived at Como.

It’s a short walk from the Como station to the lake, but first we explored the city a bit, -wandering the streets around the cathedral and center. At 9:00 on a Sunday morning, it appeared the city was still mostly asleep. A few church-goers passed, an we saw an occasional café patron sipping their morning cappuccino, but there were few tourists or traffic. Eventually we reached the eastern flank of the city, and began climbing a hill towards the villas perched high above the lake. After a short bit we abandoned the notion, and headed back towards the center for our own pastry and cappuccinos before continuing on to the lake. The cappuccino was good. –Neither too hot, nor too bitter, and the croissant with a golden cream filling was much better than I had hopped. I think this is my first time trying an Italian pastry. No, I take that back. I had pastries for breakfast once when I ran out of food. Those were also good, but I think the chocolate croissants they sell in France, and the waffles in Belgium are better. However, this sugary sustenance would do well to augment my eggs-and-cereal breakfast as we had a lot of walking ahead of us.

A short trot took us to the shores of the lake. We paused to behold the dark shimmery waters against the backdrop of forested hills and distant mountains speckled with extravagant villas. I was dismayed that the morning haze and scattered clouds were lingering past brunch, and we were unable to see with the crispness the occasion deserved. Although Como receives a lot of hype for being beautiful, I believe that some of the lakes in the American-West have far more dramatic mountains crowding the shores.

We began to walk the cirque around the docks towards an old man with no shirt fishing with a cane pole. We didn’t see him catch anything and continued our jaunt along the shore until discovering a finicula ascending the nearby massif. 4,10 bought us a round trip ticket and we jammed on to the tram with a number of people that smelled like a particularly unpleasant blend of body-odor.

The trees at the top blocked most of our view, but after a half hour we had crossed through the charming little town perched on the precipice to an outcropping offering panoramic views of the lake, the city of Como, and mount Rosa and the Alps smudged out in the haze.

We returned to the village, and had lunch in a little café overlooking the lake though the pine trees. Today they were serving lasagna or vegetable risotto. I had the lasagna, Vicente had the risotto, and we split a flagon of perfumey red wine. After resting our feet for a bit in the shade, it was time to go back down to Como, and eventually take the train back.

Once home, I tided some things up around the apartment, read the manual of the washing machine before dinner. It has 17 modes, 4 soap trays, 3 buttons, an analogue temperature dial, and I bet my clothes are going to come out of it worse than they would if I washed them back home.