It is still raining in Lesa. We head to Varese where there are a few indoor museums. The weather there should be clear and we will be able to visit the Sacred Mountain of Varese.

We head out and the rain stops as we get farther down the road. It is looking pretty good, until we get within a few miles from our destination. A dense fog sets in. The higher we get on the mountain, the harder it is to see. We can barely see a few feet in front of us. The road is winding. We do our best to follow road signs but our gps tells us to enter a narrow alley. We miss the turn, but are only 100s of meters away. Unsure what to do and clearly driving away from our destination museum, we reluctantly turn around and enter the alley.

I don’t like it. It doesn’t look like a legitimate road. The gps is insistent. We meet cars coming out of the alley, so we assume that we need brave it. We hold our breath and keep going. We pass a small parking lot for a hotel. We suddenly see a sign telling us we can’t enter and that traffic is not allowed but there is no way to turn around. Literally…no way.

We try backing up. There is a tricky turn between a car, a wall, and a rock ledge. Unfortunately the rock ledge left its mark. A small mark on the car, but unsettling all the same. The driver (aka husband) does a great job keeping his cool and backing us up the road until we can turn around. We drive back to the main road.

Now the fog is unsettling. It is so thick we struggle to see at all. We know we are on the side of a mountain, but can’t see the edge. The gps completely loses its signal. I see a sign pointing to the museum we are looking for and we creep in that direction. I ask that we park because I need out of the car, but honestly we don’t know where we are. I walk through the fog to take a photo of a map. It is not very helpful. I see the map, but I can’t see any physical landmarks to help orient us.

It looks like we can drive to the museum, but a short way down the road we encounter another road restriction. This one we can see in time to turn around. Now I am very anxious to park. I just want out of the car and out of the fog for a while. We waste a good bit of time trying to determine if we need to pay to park. We decide the sign is saying to pay only on the weekends. This is the most confusing place we have ever visited. We are unsure if it is the roads, the signage, the fog or a combination of the three, but we struggle to figure out what to do and where to go.

We set off through the fog and walk past the resident only parking. We think we are at a historic religious site, but apparently it is also a town (which may be why the gps and signs took us the wrong way?). It is hard to make sense of anything in the fog. We are now walking in a pedestrian only zone. Is this where we were driving earlier?

I make out a restaurant and am ready to call it quits. We can have a coffee and pastry and call it a day. My husband encourages me to walk on. The museum becomes visible exactly four steps from where I was just standing ready to give up. Victory is ours!

The small museum was built by the artist hired to do renovations on the monastery. It is a villa, full of the owner’s collections of ancient artifacts…marble from the Shaw of Iran, renaissance art., Grecian urns, Ming vases, Roman statues. The pieces are eclectic and weirdly wonderful. My favorite museum piece is the gypsum mold for the bronze doors of a Roman church. The artist carved the mold, covered it with wax and then poured the bronze on top. The wax melted and the bronze separated and voila! I saw the doors in Rome long ago, but find that I am much more interested in the mold.

Next, we search for lunch. In an eerie walk through streets of tunnels, stairs, caves, and endless fog, we finally find a restaurant promising fine dining, and the perfect terrace view. We will never know about the view, but we can at least try the food. Besides, it is warm inside and there is beautiful music playing.

We have the place to ourselves. They seat us at a lovely table in front of a window, better to view the fog I guess. The tagliatelle with truffle butter rocks my world. Instant mood adjustment!

Nourished, we head out to conquer the sacred mountain. The church is part of an ancient convent formed by Catherine and Juliana in the 1400’s. The small, Saints Chapel is dedicated to their remains. While Jesus is honored in the church with a small sculpture hidden in front of the pipes of the organ, the real feature of the church is Mary.

She is every where. In paintings, in statues, and larger than life in a glass encased effigy in the center of the altar. Excavations show that this “cult of Mary” (not my words….actually on the English translation placard) had been worshiping on the mountain at this place since the 400’s. It became a pilgrimage Mecca for women and especially mothers.

A small museum holds a hand illuminated psalter. The painted details in vibrant color and gold leaf are extraordinary. If I could, I would sit all day and examine each glorious page. The museum also holds endless artistic renderings of the Madonna, sometimes with child and sometimes alone.

But the museum’s real treasure lies in the crypt under the church. The original frescoes from the 11th century are still perfectly intact. At least seven priests are buried here. Glass walkways reveal the graves and further back in the crypt, the remains of the 4th century church. Graffiti in Latin covers some of the fresco. You can clearly read, “I, (name of person) was here. 1535”. Almost 500 years in the past, people couldn’t resist the urge to leave their mark.

We emerge from the crypt to a new world. The fog has lifted. The sun is shining. Four lakes, including Varese and Maggiore are visible. Suddenly the Sacred Mountain makes a little more sense. It is an unusual place, built into the mountain. With a vague understanding of where we are in relation to our car, we walk toward our parking space. Or at least where we think we parked.

Up steps. Down a hillside. Through a tunnel. Under a building. Onto a street, that suddenly becomes a staircase. And so it goes. Pope John Paul in bronze points the way back to the Moses fountain. Suddenly the road we had stumbled down hours before appears. It is on the side of a steep mountain. Had I wandered to the edge in the fog…well let’s just leave it at that. It is a long, long way down.

We find our car, but still have no gps. But now we can see more than four feet in front of us, so we try to retrace our steps. We notice a sign at the site of our near disaster earlier in the day. It says limited traffic. It should say Danger! Keep out! My strong opinion…..but for my sanity I’ll just let that go.

Back at home, the sun is shining and I have energy to burn. So I walk to the lake. The small river Erno is roaring from the three days of rainfall. But the lake is serene. The fishermen are out in force, but I have the beach to myself. A quiet place to count my blessings… a patient husband… grace… three beautiful children…..this amazing place…..

Travel can be intense. It can be confusing and stressful. It can also be peaceful and life giving. It always changes you. When to fog lifts, you always see more clearly.