Waking up in a new space can be disorienting. Waking up in a traditional Italian house? A whole other level of level of confusion. Stumbling into the bathroom, I forgot the light switch was actually in the hall. In my sleep addled haze, I tried to recognize the toilet from the bidet in the dark. So far so good. No major calamities.

Next up, how to make coffee? N’espresso machine? Espresso stovetop pots? Electric kettle with percolator? Even though my Italian hosts would be appalled…. I stuck with the percolator method that I am familiar with. No need for learning new tricks before I have had my coffee.

A very short drive from the house lands us in Arona. After circling narrow streets and endless round abouts, we finally find a parking spot just outside the restricted traffic zone. Parts of town are very narrow pedestrian only streets. Almost immediately, I was taken in by the charm of the city. A peaceful promenade lined the lake. Swans greeted us along the shore.

Endless restaurants offered culinary delights. Cobblestones under foot and villas lining the streets reminded us that we were newcomers to these ancient alleys. A cluster of churches reminded us of the circle of life. The Church of the Nativity sitting next to the Chapel for Souls in Purgatory reminded us that life and death are connected. What has been and what will be pulsating together in the autumn air.

Finally, we rest and lunch along the banks of Lake Maggiore. Italian style, there is no rush. A blanket on the chair is provided to ward off a chill. Although many Italians are wearing coats, it seems to me like a warm autumn day.

Our two personal pizzas provide more food than we can possibly eat. Entertainment consists of watching two teenagers strip to their underwear and plunge into the frigid lake.

The next stop is the Parco Della Rocha. This large public park is situated amidst the ruins of a vast castle and the birthplace of St. Charles. The park towers over the city. The view of the lake against peaceful ruins made it the perfect place for an Italian wedding. Even though I had on a nice casual dress, I felt under dressed next to dazzling floor length formal wear if the wedding attendees milling about the park. Americans could use some fashion advice. We saw at least three weddings throughout the day and each was a runway worthy spectacle.

Leaving Arona, we stopped at colosso di San Carlo or the giant St. Charles statue. While the statue wasn’t particularly interesting, the nearby Chiesa di San Carlo contained chapels filled with art and artifacts of St. Charles. I felt warmth in the sanctuary and shared a smile with a woman who had come to pray.

At end of day, we explored Lesa, the little town we call home for the next several weeks. The town is small, only a few streets wide. The structures are ancient and I could easily be strolling 1000’s era Italy. If it weren’t for an occasional electric line, I would never know I was in the 20th century. Main Street along the lake is more modern and is a restaurant row. Having just had lunch, we opt for gelato. Peach for me, made from fresh puréed peach. My husband gets some unholy combinations of chocolate, stracciatella, and strawberry. And we sit with our gelato treasure and watch the boats in the little harbor.

Driving back to the house, we conduct a futile search for ice. My husband is in withdrawal mode and may not survive the evening if we can’t produce ice for his soda. No bueno. Ice is not Italian. Dejected we head home, dodging bicycles and motorcycles and cars passing in no passing lanes.

At end of day we follow the Erno River just past our villa to where it meets the sea. The water gently laps to shore and peace descends on a most satisfying first day in Italy. Ciao Bella.