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Published: June 27th 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
My day in a nutshell. 6:00 Get up, get ready
7:06 Tram 90 to Milano Centrale Station
8:05 Train to Stresa
9:15 Arrive in Stresa
9:45 Enjoy cuppacino and chocolate croissant dockside
10:30 Ferry to Isola Madre. Explore villa and gardens.
12:45 Ferry to Isola Superiore for lunch
14:45 Ferry to Isola Bella. Explore palace and gardens.
16:30 Ferry back to Stresa
17:30 Train back to Milano Central Station
18:45 Arrive in Milano
19:05 Tram 91 back to Hotel Berlino
19:30 Arrive at Hotel
___________________________________________
I may be a genius. Not for the many mistakes I’ve made so far, but for how I quickly corrected them. Today was wildly successful. I caught the right bus and got off on the right stop, boarded the right train, navigated tourist-happy Stresa, and made it back to the hotel without incident. Today, in the battle of Milano versus Stephanie, I won, hands-down.
Early Start This morning I rose and got out of the hotel in time to catch the 7am tram to the train station. I arrived in plenty of time to purchase a ticket and find my train.
To the Lake Stresa is a
downhill walk from the train station, with signs pointing you to “centro,” or center. The tourist office was not due to open for another half hour, so I purchased my boat tickets and admission for the islands and went to the dockside café. I ordered a cappuccino and chocolate croissant, both of which were exceedingly good. Or maybe I was exceedingly hungry, I’m not sure. Everyone in the service industry here spoke English, and I soon found out why. The town is a vacation destination for grey haired British folk. I was one of the youngest people around, aside from a few families.
Isola Madre On Lake Maggiore, there are several little towns and three small islands, all within a short distance of each other, and all serviced by a ferry system. The ride to Isola Madre was about half an hour, which was just long enough to feel the heat build up on the lake. It was still much cooler than the city, because of the breeze.
The island is home to a little café and restaurant and the villa and gardens. Passing through the entry gates, tourists need only follow the pre-determined path through the gardens
and up to the villa. Everything was lush and green. The Rick Steves guide book said it was an uninteresting English garden, but I disagree. Peacocks and exotic birds roamed the grounds, squawking back and forth at each other. It’s actually quite loud if they’re standing right next to you.
I met a handful of Americans on the grounds, but they all seemed stand-offish and didn’t want to connect at all. Snobs. The foreigners, on the other hand, were very chatty. I met two men during my stroll, who spoke no English or Italian. After a few muddled words, I asked, “Deutch?” They lit up immediately and began jabbering at me even faster. We managed to have a complete conversation about our travel plans. I had no idea I spoke German. And while in the bathroom reapplying sunscreen, I chatted with a girl from Romania and an older woman from Britain.
The villa was lovely with paintings hanging from nearly every wall. It looked like one of those places Americans only see in Hollywood films. My favorite room was where the walls were painted with all sorts of flowers; it looked like a tea cup inside-out.
Isola Superiore
This island is mostly residential with several restaurants along the waterfront for hungry tourists. I found a place that had a shaded patio and asked for a table. Lunch was ravioli with lake fish stuffing in a saffron sauce. It was delicious! Saffron is so expensive at home to use that much in a sauce. I assumed Italy’s close proximity to the origin of the plant makes it less expensive here.
I enjoyed people watching as I ate under the shade of a lemon tree. A cat, who looked much like one owned by my Mother, took her siesta on the patio too, oblivious to the people walking around her. I closed my meal with the most strong and bitter coffee I’ve ever had in my life. Later I found out it was espresso and I could have added sugar. Next time.
Isola Bella The beautiful island, appropriately named for the terraced gardens and huge palace which together dominated the landscape. The shoreline was littered with tourist booths selling all the same junk you can find anywhere. There were no signs directing traffic, so I got lost wandering the stairways and alleys before emerging at the palace
Setting off the day
No pics of my return journey, I want my dignityentrance. This was where I was supposed to be.
The palace was much grander than the villa, both owned by the same family. It played host to historical events from Napoleon to politics leading up to WWII. The exterior is bland, but the interior was exquisite. I think the rooms were designed with me in mind. The ballroom and grand salon were my favorite on that account, with ornate white trim and grand chandeliers. The palace also had a collection of grottos, rooms where the walls, floor and ceiling were lined with white and black rocks. This looked strange, but the intent was evident right away. The stones kept the rooms cool, a major benefit without air conditioning.
The grounds were also very pretty, echoing the detail oriented style of the house. There was little shade, however, and I had to silently cheer myself on to finish the tour. Facing the house was a terraced garden area with all kinds of statues and arches and columns. It was quite breathtaking. Around the back, facing the lake, was an additional terraced garden with roses and lemons.
Back to Shore and Milano I had run out of fun for
Stresa breakfast
Cuppacino and chocolate croissant the day and it was time to go back to my hotel. I later realized that not enough water aggravated my inability to handle the heat, which might be common sense, but it took recognition. I caught the slow train home and had time to snooze. Because I was wearing my hat all day and was sweating, my hair was a wreck. I fixed it with bobbie pins to look at least respectable. It wasn’t until I got back to my room that I saw how much of a mess I really was. I looked like a drowned rat that someone half-heartedly tried to revive. Oh well.
Hair aside, it was my most successful day so far. Bravo to me!
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