The day started slowly. We changed plans again and again. Finally we decided to go to Stresa to see if we could find spots on the Centovalli rail and boat excursion to Switzerland. The people at the travel agency were great and so helpful. We laughed and chatted, only to find out that the tracks had been damaged and ticket sales had been halted. The agent promised to keep trying throughout the day. The Italians have a saying, “it’s an uphill day”. It certainly seemed uphill.

While we waited, we decided to take a ferry to Isola Bella…the beautiful island. It wasn’t on the plan for the day, but nothing was working out. The short ferry ride transported us to another world., a world of Borromean excess.

It is easy to forget everything in the midst of splendor. The ferry dropped us off on an island with the Borromeo palace and gardens. Despite the long line, we were able to enter immediately because we had purchased our ticket at Angera the day before. The first rooms felt like playing leap frog as we squeezed between massive tour groups crowded around their leader.

The Borromeo family owned everything surrounding Lake Maggiore. The castle was a way to show off their wealth. Their ostentatious displays of wealth even lured Napoleon to visit. He eventually come back and took everything in sight. Beware house guests!

As we gawked and talked our way through the rooms, we stumbled onto a portrait that is the medieval twin of my husband. He now thinks he would like to grow a van dyke beard. It is okay by me, but the ruffles are a step too far.

Each room was an explosion of colorful marble, Italian art, and priceless furniture. Tapestries of hunting lions competed with graceful unicorns. Plaster figures decorated ceilings. As the crowds thinned, it was easy to imagine a different time and style of life.

Every window had its own breathtaking view. Isola Pescatori (the fisherman island/isola superiore) beckoned on the horizon. The clouds hovered over the lake, framing the mountains in magical mists. What must it have been like to call this massive monument a home? I imagine how it must feel to know this castle is just one of many “homes” in your collection.

The salons had musical instruments, armor, saddles, books, vases, and paintings. One room’s red chests held the vestments of St. Charles Borromeo. Entry halls the size of small hotels greeted visitors. Underground grottoes made of shell held archeological relics. Every corner had its own fascination.

But for me, the real magic happened outside. Isola Bella…a beautiful garden oasis. Terraced like a ziggurat, each level had plantings and sculptural markers. The smells of oranges, limes, and lemons tickled our noses. Color bursts of begonia, waterlily, and verbena teased our eyes. Carefully manicured, the grounds were beyond impressive.

I lingered at the aviary of lovebirds. They chirped and cuddled in adorable poses. I climbed up and down terraces and plazas. I puzzled at the trees shaped in fantastic geometric designs.

Finally after all the fantastic sights , we just stood and held hands and listened to the lapping of the water. I let it wash away lingering thoughts. The colors brightened my mood, the trees whispered an ancient truth that all is well and exactly as it should be. Isola Bella…the beautiful island…. is beautiful indeed.