The Lost Son Of Italia 90

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The Man in the Middle likes a good lake. He still sings the virtues of the Lake Ohrid trip to Macedonia. The weather helped, as did the price of a potential holiday home. Living the good life - with Elvis as a sailing buddy. He was therefore keen as mustard to sample the delights of Lake Como, when it was thrown into the equation as a possibility for our last day of the Milan trip. The driving rain of Monday and the snow of Sunday had gone and there were better prospects for the weather. It would have been pointless to head north to the lake expecting to see a view in the pouring rain. We were up early, checked out, bags stored and at Porto Garibaldi Station before 9. We interrogated our preferred ticket machine and 4.80 Euros single gets the ticket to the lakeside resort of Lecco. The big question was would there be a guy down Lake Como who also thinks he is Elvis? Is the world big enough for two of them?

The weather the previous day had been appalling, but once we left the city limits the sun started to poke out through the mist that often shrouds the Milan area. The train was scheduled to take approximately an hour to reach the southern point of Lake Como. The scenery gradually became more alpine as we proceeded north. The journey interrupted by a descent into a series of tunnels, as we neared our destination. I had been to both Como and Bellagio on the shores of the lake before, so I was keen to see how Lecco compared. The outskirts didn’t look that positive. “Quite industrial” observed the Man in the Middle. Lecco is essentially considered a modern city, but I only realised that on arrival. I have since discovered that there is a history of iron and steel in the valley, which possibly explained why the initial impression had been a bit disappointing. The majority of the small steel plants are no longer, but the scars of industry are slow to heal. I had sold it to the Man in the Middle as a trip to the picturesque lake and I had brought him to a mini-Middlesbrough. The train arrived at the Lecco terminus.

We alighted and wandered towards the lakeside. The narrow shopping streets were as prosperous as anything in Monza and Milan with small boutiques mingling with the big name brand concessions. There were few folk about and all was calm. The weather had brightened up and compared to previous days, it was positively tropical. A winter ice rink was set up in Piazza Affari. We headed a few yards to the lake edge. The water was flat calm. The low alpine slopes rose from the shore creating perfect reflection on the still surface. A lone canoeist was the only one creating a wake on the water and disturbing the calm.



The standout feature on the lake was the War Memorial. It was erected in 1926 - the work of scupltor, Giannino Castiglioni - to honour the Italian dead of World War 1. Ronnie Macs somehow seemed out of place. A couple of swans stood at the edge of the water, trying to compete with the local ducks for snacks from wandering Englishmen. A motor barge with 2 reindeer at it’s helm was moored up. I presumed it was running Santa Cruises at the weekend for day trippers from Milan. A small square had another one of these Christmas Markets set up. The number of pedestrians weren’t worth getting out of bed for, but the stall holders stood keenly by ready to assist with any purchases, We pressed on around the lake promenade. A 1927 monument to Antonio Stoppani gazed out over the lake from the other side of the road. The information plaque advised that it was originally in the gardens opposite, but was moved in 1933 to make way for teh new road expansion. Stoppani seemed happy enough in his new location. He was born in Lecco in 1824 and was honoured for his contribution to geology and the sciences. The canoeist paddled powered past a gold statue – marooned on a platform over the water. I have no idea what it represented, but it looked very effective in the morning sun with a backdrop of the houses on the far shore. The town shore was lined with large and impressive villas at this point. A few old guys strolled casually along the promenade. Three discussed the various merits of a particular car. They waved their arms around in approval, as they circumnavigated the vehicle. They were possibly taking great pride in the only car on Italian soil without bodywork or paint damage. A car drew up by a machine. It looked like the milk machine I had spotted recently in Hradec Kralove in the Czech Republic. There was no milk here. It was water. He unloaded a number of containers from his boot. The machine failed to produce the refills at the speed he was anticipating, In true Italian style, he waved his arms around and gesticulated angrily at the said machine. The machine continued as before.





It was now customary for us to visit the local church. The impressive Basilica di San Nicolo was set on slightly higher ground. It was quite plain inside. A group of schoolchildren were practicing for their nativity concert. It was ironically the quietest we had heard Italian school children during our visit - possibly because they were drowned out by the PA system of the church. As you would expect, Italian teachers waved their arms about enthusiastically during the rehersal. We retreated back towards the centre of town. A strange sound came to our ears, as we walked through the old square. The sound of bagpipes? Surely not! The musical man was soon in our vision. A throwback to the 1990 World Cup mission of the Bravehearts - son of Italia 90 was busy practising for the passing shoppers. He was kitted out in full kilt. The hair was definitely authentic and very unlike an Italian. The locals continued about their normal business. Unfazed. He played on!



The conversation was not about the Lost Son of Italia 90 in the cafe across the road in the Caffe Unione. A small dog studied all new entrants with interest. The old boys whiled away their morning with an expresso. Two older ladies were obviously feeing the cold despite the warming temperatures. The fur coats stayed very firmly on. We had a cappuccino. The shop along the road was called Alanred. The brand Alanblacknwhite will surely not catch on! A statue of Alessandro Manzoni watched over this end of town. We went in search of another football ground. Calcio Lecco 1912 were a short walk over the railway tracks away from the lake. A nun waiting for a bus nodded to us. Locals already. Lecco currently play in Serie D, having last hit the heights of Serie A in 1966 / 1967. They were relegated along with Lazio, who share a very similar club badge. It wasn't all failure though. The locals are still probably talking about sneaking those 1-1 away draws in the San Siro against both Inter and A C Milan. The 5,000 Stadio Rigamonti-Ceppi was firmly locked up. There weren't even any gate handles to try in our usual methods of we will gain entry. Foiled. Whilst Calcio Lecco have been languishing in the lower reaches, sporting greatness has come to Lecco in cycling terms. The Tour of Lombardy is a regular visitor. The race started in 1905 and only had a break in 1943 and 1944, when war finally caught up with Italy. It is known as the autumn classic and after a change of route, the race finish came to Lecco in 2011. We headed back to railway station to catch a train back to Milan. In rather confusing fashion, a train left for both Milan Porto Garibaldi and Milan Centrale at the exact same time. We opted for Garibaldi - shorter, cheaper - but full of the chattering classes of Italian school youth. The din finally subsided after a few stations.



We had one final tourist site to see in Milan. Sforza Castle. We had been close on the previous weekend in the Parco Sempione.It sits at the south end of the park. Sforza Castle was built originally in the 15th century and none other than Leonardo - Da Vinci, not the turtle - was involved in some of the frescos and decorations. It wwas re-modelled extensively when the Austrians were running the show in Milan and then after Italian unification, changed again under the watch of Luca Beltrami. The Allied bombing rearranged things a bit in 1943 and today it houses various museums. It was pots and pans stuff that myself and the Man in the Middle struggle with, so we contented ourselves wandering the grounds. There were a number of serious portcullis. We wondered if it was perhaps here that the Pardubice horse was cut in two? My October blog on Don't spare the horses reveals all. How life comes full circle sometimes. Even perhaps if you are a returning Scotland football fan from 1990?

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Photos

Lecco
The Lost Son of Italia 90

Lecco
Basilica Di San Nicolo

Comments

[Rainyb]

Love the "moose"

[Rainyb]

Love the reflections!

[Rainyb]

Very scenic area. Id love it!