I am a contrary traveler. I don’t mean to be, but I almost never enjoy the “it” places. I read the guidebooks and “just to say we have been there”, we dutifully go to the “must see” places. I am almost always disappointed. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like the so called “ugly” tourists who have no appreciation for the people or the culture they are visiting. I don’t enjoy witnessing people who complain about everything because it is not what they are used to. Lake Como is the “it” place that really wasn’t…at least for me.
We arrive in town and are lucky enough to snag one of the last spots in the central parking garage. This is a blessing because the Main Street is flooded and traffic is congested. After parking, we try to visit the waterfront, but most of the park has construction barriers blocking off the walkways. We finally find an open path to the lake. The water is high and flooding the sidewalks. Unlike the rest of our experience in the Northern lakes region, there is also alot of trash…everywhere. Plastic floats in the lake. Rubbish is piled on the sidewalks. Debris clogs the piers. People jam the walkways. We keep moving to avoid being run over by bicycles and/or baby carriages.
The promenade of villas is lovely. However, everyone else thinks so too. I am clipped by a cyclist who thinks one ring of their bell will help me figure out how an object moving at 15 miles an hour on a crowded sidewalk will manifest behind me. No other warning, just a ding as it runs into my shoulder.
We make it to the Villa Olna which is closed for construction. No matter, the view is lovely. We decid to find a cafe, use the toilette and have a cappuccino. Except the lone cafe does not have a public restroom, nor does the next, or the next, or the next.
Twenty minutes later, we make it back to the Volta museum. We aren’t planning to visit, but since the bathroom is only for paying customers….we become paying customers. It seems in Como, even basic human needs come with a price. The welcoming attendant really wants to give us an overview of the museum, but I really only want directions to the basement toilette area. She is disappointed. I am relieved.
The Volta museum has an interesting collection of the scientific equipment that led Alexander Volta to invent the battery. I recognize some of the experiments from my science classes. (In another life, I would have been quite content to be a chemist.) The museum is small, so we quickly make our rounds through the galleries of encased copper wire, frog legs, and electric conductors.
The next order of business is lunch. For some people, lunch in Como is an opportunity to see and be seen. For us, it is just another opportunity to eat. We walk by fancy tables with fancy prices and find a quiet outdoor table with simple pasta. No one can see me behind the shrubbery….but then I don’t have to see the hundreds of wannabe models pursing their lips, crossing their feet and posing their elbow in the street. The number of influencer wannabes in the center of Como is exhausting and distracting. Seeing a few such individuals in a day is hilarious. Hundreds of them are maddening.
At lunch we chat with a German couple, who are very upset that the restaurant does not provide menus. We also are not a fan of the order by QR code (it makes it a lot harder to search and translate). But when the wife yells at the wait staff, I have to relegate her to the ugly tourist category. A British couple, sits down and chats with us. They took a ferry boat to Como because they thought it would be a fun excursion for lunch. When they arrived they had to immediately stand in line for a return ticket. It took one and a half hours to get said ticket. They were unable to get the two o’clock return and had to take a 6:30 pm boat. Welcome to “itville”. We wish them luck and tell them we hope they find a way to stay sane in the crush of Como tourism.
Despite the odds, I find solace in the cathedral. The grand beauty and the quiet reverence in the church is just what I need. The high vaulted ceilings seem to dwarf the large altarpieces. Tapestry hangs from the ceiling. Carved lecterns and statuary clamor for attention. While there is a steady stream of visitors, apparently most of the Como crowd prefer to try to look beautiful (taking selfies in the street) instead of seeking beauty indoor. Thankfully, the crowds remain outside.
As a nice surprise, musicians play just outside the cathedral. We stop to listen before we make our way to the funicular. Street musicians make everything a little more tolerable. We need the pick me up. Como is exhausting.
After a 15 minute walk that takes us along the fringes of the flood water, we reach the ticket booth for the funicular. Hundreds of people are in line. We immediately turn around. The only thing worse than standing in line for an hour is being herded into an overcrowded tin can for an uncomfortable ride up a mountain to stand in line for at least another hour to be herded into an overcrowded carriage for a ride back down the mountain. We decline.
Instead, we fight our way back through the crowds. We piece together a semi dry path through flood water. We dodge construction fences and eventually find our car. After navigating the exit road… I wave goodbye to Como. Been there, done that. Unfortunately, I can’t recommend it. Not my people, not my place.
Of course, when I tell you that I spend an hour happily cruising an Italian Superstore (think giant grocery store) later that day, you may be skeptical about taking my travel advice. I buy some amazing bread for 1 euro. I find multiple varieties of Moscato d’Asti for around 3 euro each. I figure out that if you wait in the check out line, you may accidentally be in an aisle that entitles the elderly, handicapped, and pregnant to step in front of you. And more importantly, they will step in front of you in much the same way cars and bicycles pass you on the roadway; rapidly, aggressively, and with hand gestures. No matter that I am holding a loaf of bread and two bottles of wine and they have carts laden with a week’s grocery, I am after all just a visitor in their lane. Mangia bene!
