Day two began bright and early, at least for me. I was wide awake at 5 AM, with little hope of falling back asleep. Scooters buzzed up and down the boulevard like mosquitos, even at this early hour. I stood on the little terrace outside the hotel room and watched as sleepy Milan woke up.

After a while, I walked to a little cafe beside the hotel and ordered a cappuccino. As I sat on the patio reading my book, ‘Wild Stories – The Best of Men’s Journal’ – a book I highly recommend, by the way – I suddenly felt… Italian, if just for a moment. I had nowhere to be, nothing to rush off and do, no pressing matters that demanded my attention, the day was just beginning and was full of promise. Not to mention my steaming cup of cappuccino warming my hands. I was completely absorbed in the moment, and it felt good.

Of course it only took that one moment to drain my thimble-sized cappuccino, then I realized that far from being a stylish Italians, I was sitting there in an old, wrinkled T-shirt and baseball hat, and my illusion of being Italian was shattered. Just as well, as it was almost time to leave beautiful Milano for even more beautiful Lake Como.

The Cadorna train station was too far to walk, so we hailed a cab. Our driver informed us that the trains were on strike, emphasizing his point by thrusting an Italian newspaper at us. My Italian reading skills being what they are, it may as well have been a Sanskrit newspaper – which I am sure he knew. He offered to drive us to Como Lake for 100 Euros. I laughed a bit at this. We may be American tourists, but that doesn’t automatically make us stupid, buddy… Disappointed but undaunted, he sweetened the deal by offering a round trip for 150 Euros. “Eh, looka, you save money dat way. See? 100 to get there, but 150 to getta there and back, eh?”

Grazie, but no grazie, signore!

As it was, the cab ride from the hotel to the train station was more expensive than train tickets to Como Lake! And of course, there was no evidence of a train worker strike.

Inside the train station, our limited command of Italian was evident once again. Abi and I played a game of charades with a clerk that spoke no English, as we attempted to purchase Italian SIM cards for our cellular phones. With much pointing, gesturing and waving, we finally managed to secure two cards, but weren’t able to put any money on them (the cards are pay-as-you-go, which is brilliant.) “Retardo, retardo… ” she kept saying, gesturing at her blank computer screen. I am sure she was talking to Abi.

The train ride from Cadorna station to Como Lake was interesting. As I said previously, the Italians have style. I know it may sound like a generalization, and it probably is, but even the graffiti that covered every single wall, bridge and building on the entire train ride was exquisitely intricate and artistic. I guess if you have to cover walls in graffiti, it may as well be art.

An hour later it seemed we’d been transported to another world. Como Lake is close to the Swiss border, and the mountains come right down to the lake. The town of Como was what I imagined all of Italy would be like. People were sitting and chatting on park benches, enjoying the weather, painting the landscape, and occasionally a bicycle bell would jingle. It seemed like something straight out of a movie.

Even the police look… dare I say it again… stylish. OK… thats the last time!

Since we had no real plan for the day other than to get to Como Lake, we decided to take a little boat ride. Looking at a map, we realized Como Lake is shaped like an upside down letter ‘Y’. We randomly picked the town of Bellagio, which, at the ‘crotch’ of the lake, seemed an interesting place to go.

But first, ice cream time! Everyone seemed to have an ice cream cone in hand, and it made me want one. Fortunately, there are ice cream shops all over Como. Even more fortunately for the linguistically impaired, most of these shops sport large ice cream cone statues out front. I ordered a large cioccolato cone, and the incredulous ice cream man asked me, “Cioccolato only? That all you want?” Then, with an audible TSK TSK, he added, “You are Americano, no?”

I still have no idea why he asked me that. Maybe because Americans only want one flavor, maybe because we like chocolate… who knows?

Half eaten and half melted ice cream all over me, it was time to board the ‘Citta di Como’ high speed catamaran for the cruise to Bellagio.

The styl… err… well dressed crew lassoed the pier with precision.

The inadequacy of our poor Italian became painfully evident for a final time that day. Turned our the tickets we’d purchased were to Menaggio instead of Bellagio. Ah well. Mennagio is a very small town that is nestled just eight miles from the border of Switzerland. Interesting to note that the town of Menaggio had a nice fountain, similar to the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas. Also interesting to note that the town of Mennagio had nothing else of interest to offer.

Fortunately, the last boat from Menaggio back to Como was leaving only an hour after we’d arrived. If there was more time, I think we’d have taken a taxi across to Switzerland, just for the passport stamp, and maybe some cheese.

As it was, there was barely enough time for a quick cappuccino (and for some unknown reason, a shot glass full of water) before it was time to leave.

This big (and hollow) car ferry, barely a boat at all, docked just before our boat did. A few motorcycles, a car and some bicycles boarded, and one bicyclist got off. I wondered where all these people were going to as they loaded the ferry.

On the trip back to Como, I did find the house that I want to retire in, though I’ll probably have to work another five hundred years to afford it.

The boat ride back to Como was peaceful and relaxing… so peaceful in fact that I pretty much passed out. The trip back passed far too quickly. In fact two full days passed far too quickly, and sadly, it’s now time to work. With Randy not making the trip, this time it will be REAL work, which is even sadder.

Ah well. Time to set up! RAW from Milan on Monday, Smackdown on Tuesday… and then… Prague on Wednesday!

La vita è buona! Arrivederci!

Author: frenchy