Sunny, magical days have to be interrupted occasionally. And so the rain sets in for a multi-day period of grey clouds and damp pavement. Since we are in Italy to experience Italy, we set off for a wet drive around the lake to Cannobio on Lake Maggiore (….not to be confused with Cernobbio on Lake Como).
Despite the heavy rain warnings, the rain here (at least to these midwestern travelers who are very used to severe thunderstorms and torrential rain) seems light, slow, and steady. The rain has accumulated to about five inches over the course of three days.
After making our way around the lake, we stop at the lake front parking lot in Cannobio and can just barely make out the mountains across the lake. They disappear and reappear throughout the morning as the clouds roll by. The fog has its own charm, making the landscape dramatic and constantly changing.
We decide to walk the city, but need to find a more central parking lot. This is always the worst part of Italian driving, as finding a spot to park in an unfamiliar town that was built before cars were invented is always an uncertain quest. It usually involves circling the perimeter of the city until you either randomly guess what lot might be closer to where you need to be…. or you cease to care about location and you take a spot because it is available. This is usually what happens… we tire of trying. Today we opt to take the only available spot in a lot about five blocks from the Main Street. It was a good find, especially since it is raining.
Our rainy Italian adventure now requires us to determine which unmarked alley will actually get us from our car to the town. If we are lucky, we might occasionally see a sign to “historico Centro”. In fairness, this town did not ask for visitors. If an Italian came to my town, there would not be signs in Italian…but at least they could drive around and park in front of literally any building. They would have ample turn radius and wide streets. Walking in the rain, I am clearly not thinking about my usual staunch support of reduced dependence on automobiles.
We eventually find the right path. I am being careful to step around the puddles forming on the stone streets. In my focus to stay dry, I hop onto a flagstone tile and it immediately sinks down into a puddle, completely soaking my feet. With wet socks and shoes making squishing noises, we finally find the Main Street. It is full of quaint shops and there is not a tourist in sight. Ahhh, Italy…the rain is no longer on my mind.
Cheese shops, meat shops, wine shops, leather shops, tailors, …. On one long street there is all you need all you need…Simple, walkable, communal…. I actually like this better than having to drive all over town…..even in the rain. We have definitely lost something in America with our big box stores far removed from the lifeblood of our towns. (See, I knew the real me would show up once I dried out a bit.)
We step into a botteglia shop. It is full of a variety of bottled beverages from the region. The shop keeper is excited that Americans had wandered in on a slow, rainy day. We chat, mixing languages in the way you do when neither party is fluent in the other’s language. She gives us samples of her favorites. We would never experience these treats had we not wandered in the rain. After a pleasant respite, we buy “Paradisio”. Paradise in a bottle….I am unsure what is in it, but it is aptly named. And the shopkeeper is more than gracious. We have a wonderful cultural exchange that is impromptu and unexpected.
Me being me, we also visit churches with stunning marble interiors. I duck into courtyards with brightly colored statues of ducks (pun intended). Similar colored frogs hang from balconies. Foxes stand in the park. Large yellow birds line city hall. The colorful creations warm a dreary day. The whimsical animals speak of civic pride and a playful community.
Before we know it, it is time for lunch. We walk the row of restaurants along the pier and select the “sport bar” solely because it has a large outdoor canopy with functional gas heaters and blankets. I wrap up in the lap blanket offered by the waiter and settle under a heater. I might eventually dry out. Meanwhile, the waiter brings appetizers of olives and bread. I take the plunge and try the aperol spritz, a local favorite. It is light and fruity. I order the local risotto, loaded with fresh cheese. The risotto is most definitely not light, but it is delicious.
Fortified with a heavy midday meal and a newly purchased umbrella, we stop in the town of Ghiffa. It boasts yet another Sacro Monte. It is the smallest sacred mountain shrine we have visited. The carvings are interesting, but much simpler than the other sites. The chapels are younger, dating from the 1600-1700’s. But they are not as well kept. It is hard not to compare the site to Varese or Orta.
What I noticed most is the lack of fresco. The carvings are mounted to largely bare walls. The simplicity and austerity of the place somehow fits the rainy afternoon. I wonder for a bit about why the newest site is also less exceptional. Does modernity diminish beauty? Did they value cost over craftsmanship or did something else impact construction?
Except for the car that tried to run me over in the parking lot and a few workers conversing on the perimeter, the Sacred Mont of Ghiffa is devoid of people. It is a land time forgot that we explore in the fog….all alone.
In an interesting landscaping choice, the walkways make a circle around the chapels, but do not actually lead to any of the chapels. To visit each area, you have to go off the path and through the water logged yard. It doesn’t really matter at this point. My feet can’t get any wetter. My pants, it turns out, can get a lot wetter. When I step on an unassuming flagstone tile, it tilts and creates a plume of water that soaks my entire torso. Suddenly wet to my waist, I squish my way to the chapel of Abraham…. At least there was a great view of Lake Maggiore from up here on the sacred mountain…..oh wait, I can only see dense fog…. Luckily, I still have a good imagination even if I have temporarily misplaced my sense of humor.
We laugh in the car as I wring out my socks and lower pant legs. In no time at all, we are down the mountain and back on the road to civilization. Needing groceries, we find an Italian Aldi and happily purchase fresh cheese, Italian salami, fresh bread, and a variety of other treats.
Back at the house, I find some dry clothes. It is a sweatshirt kind of evening. The rainy day provokes a nesting response, so I start a load of laundry and cook up some steak. After dinner we curl up on the couch and settle in for a James Bond marathon. It has been a slow day. We actually didn’t do much, except walk around in places that were supposed to keep us semi-dry. (At least half of my body did stay dry, so the mission is accomplished. In future, I will need to state my intentions differently). Unplanned and not the type of day you would ever see in a travel book, we had an adventure into the unknown and we laughed …. a lot. That is always a travel goal win even in soggy shoes.
