7 June Hotel Casa Mia Milano
Today's plan was to ride to Prato and catch a train to Bologna.
However, after 11 days in Florence we were a bit disorganised in packing up and didn't get away in time to ride to Prato, so we decided to catch the train to there as well. Then we chatted to a young couple from NZ who had spent 7 years in London and were planning to cycle back to the Antipodes over a couple of years stopping to work in the winters. The result was that it was a bit of a helter-skelter to get to Florence station for what I thought was the 10.40 train to Prato – a creature which did not exist, as it turned out. While I fumed and fretted, Gail made inquiries and found there was a train to Prato a bit later with a suitable connection to Bologna.
We bought human tickets from a machine – no problem. The tickets for our machines, however, had to be bought from a human, at the end of what the information desk described as the “very long” queue. Gail queued and I watched trains.
The train was fine with a spot for the bikes and people helped us get them off at Prato. One of the helpers was on his way to Bologna and continued to help. Prato station had lifts(!!) and the Bologna train sat in the station for 10 minutes or so, so we weren't rushed. It had a good, relatively easy bike compartment. The scenery between Prato and Bologna was gorgeous, even from the train, and extremely hilly.
Our helper of 35 years accompanied us. He was a Tunisian resident in Italy, who spoke no English. He managed to communicate that he wanted Gail to find him a wife among her friends in Australia. She said she would mention him, but most of her friends were a lot older than he was. This was not a problem. His advantages were that he is available, has a residency permit in Italy and is “sportif” with hot blood. He was well intentioned and very helpful with the bikes. Enquiries may be directed to us by email.
Bologna looked less than inspiring and Gail, intrigued by the fact that the bike ticket (long queue, inconvenient to get etc – see above) lasted 24 hours and could be used on any bike carrying train, and concerned that our helper might give us his undivided attention for the duration of our stay in Bologna (as it happened, he said goodbye and left us at the station quite cheerily), suggested that we might continue to Milan today rather than tomorrow. The fact that it is a major fashion centre did not enter her mind of course.
So we did continue to Milan, after having a picnic in Bologna between trains – not tourist territory, we thought and, given the absence of tourists, we were not alone in that view.
The country from Bologna to Milan was flat, and looked absolutely uninteresting as cycling territory – we were glad to be on the train.
Net result – three trains, a total of about 8km of riding, and 2 nights and a day ahead of us in Milan, which so far has appeared to be a really stylish, pleasant city. We found an OK hotel with a place for the bikes, went for a walk, then had a quite nice dinner made up of an antipasto buffet, fruit salad and a lot of water - the weather is very warm and humid.
We have discussed how to spend our time tomorrow. Museums are not high on the agenda. There will be further reports.
Tuesday 8th June Milan B&B
Yes. Well I had this idea that since Milan is the fashion capital of Italy, I might pick up a little thing or two – even if I had to post something back. So we took the underground into Milan, and then after looking at the Duomo (it has hundreds of spires, but it's not a patch on Sienna's), Phil left me peacefully window shopping while he went back home to get the number he needed to continue our internet service. In the end our bank balance was safe, because I saw lots of interesting clothes but only one really gorgeous shirt/blouse. It was constructed as a 'teddy' though. No thanks!
I had two drinks in that hour and a half. 26 degrees but with 88% humidity feels exhaustingly hot! The first glass of water cost me 50c (80c Australian) standing up at the bar of a nice cafe in the stunning arcade which runs off the Piazza Duomo. I sat down outside the same bar for my next drink. A little bottle of water with lemon and ice in a glass brought by a waiter cost 3Euros and 50c. ($5.60 Aust)
We paid to go into the La Scala museum after this, and were allowed a 3 min peep into the so famous theatre . I took an illegal photo and was chastised firmly for this. “Madame, it is written very plain that photos are not allowed.” I felt guilty. Other tourists break that rule all the time, but that didn't feel like a reasonable excuse.
We went home after this. The metro trains run every few minutes, but we spent ages trying to find our line. The pleasant trattoria where we ate last night was happy to see us again.
Wednesday 9th June Lake Como – BnB
We decided we might actually use our bikes today and ride to Como but in fact it was a pretty horrible ride. The suburbs of Milan stretched on for ever, with traffic lights every 100 metres or so, (well it felt like that!) and one long section of road was very narrow. It was 25kms before we felt we were out of it - and then the villages joined up to form one vast urban strip. So it was noisy and the opposite of restful. However we can't praise Italian drivers enough. They are so good to cyclists. If they see we need to come out round a car, they hang back and let us go. And they don't squeeze past like Australian drivers do but give the widest berth possible, even if it means going right up to and over the center line. And at roundabouts! Allora! (Allora means: well/so then/go on[when someone stops speaking]/are you coming?/Ok.) Italians use it all the time in conversation and I love it). Allora, in Australia when I approach a roundabout I've developed this defensive technique of stretching out my arm in a very clear signal that I'm coming through. When I do this, drivers wait obediently for me. Before I started doing this though, the car with JUST enough time to go, would, and the car behind it which DIDN'T have time, would also jump out. Allora, here it still amazes me, but I approach a roundabout and the car which has plenty time to go through ahead of me instead comes to a graceful halt. Without exception. I still watch of course, to check that they're stopping, but they always do.
And, while I'm on the subject of bicycles. Riders get the best of both worlds.They're treated with respect and consideration on the road, but if the road is busy it's perfectly acceptable to ride on the footpath – carefully of course, and watching out for pedestrians. Just as it's perfectly acceptable to carefully ride the wrong way down a one way street, or along a station platform, or in pedestrian only areas. All of the above is frowned on or outlawed in Australia, so why the difference here? (I've been pondering this for the last few days.) The answer is that here the un-helmeted person on the bici (beechy-kletta) may be a teenager or a child, but just as likely will be a mother or father with a child on the back, or a man with his briefcase or newspaper in his basket, or an elderly woman in nice skirt with her shopping in the front and or back basket, or an elegant woman in filmy dress and high heels, or an elderly gentleman. So, in Italy, people of every age ride bikes – and of course they ride at a speed appropriate to where they are - so it's not necessary to enact draconian laws about what they may and may not do; they're just pedestrians who happen to be on wheels. (Of course there are lots of helmeted roadies in lycra, but they're riding on roads – fast.)
Anyway. We found a nice park for lunch with sweet green grass and a little lake and fountain. We were drenched with sweat and tired out from the relentless traffic, so we spread the sarong in the shade of a leafy tree and ate tomatoes, crunchy radishes and cheese and had a rest while an old man came and sat near us and sailed his remote controlled two foot long yacht on the lake Then on to Como, along the relatively flat but quite built up road, as the enormous shapes of the Alps suddenly rose ahead.
Como was far more elegant and picturesque than we were expecting. We found a nice B&B (there was no camping) and had a really lovely dinner. We were supposed to be moving on, but it looked too nice to leave, so we changed our plans (again), and made new ones.
Thursday 10 June Camping Rivabella at Lecco
We decided last night that Como was worth another day, and found that there was a train to Lecco in the late afternoon.
The plan was to ride around the west side of the lake through some little villages. We had set off to do this yesterday evening but the traffic was heavy (peak hour, in fact – as we found at the station, Como is on the suburban line from Milan, and the trip is about 45 minutes. People live near the lake, park near the station, and commute into Milan, or the intermediate suburbs/towns).
The first place we went to Cernobbio, which was very pleasant with some large villas. However, it became apparent to us that the best way to see these places was from the water. We found a rather handsome little ferry terminal. The ticket seller told us that we could do a little round trip for some way up the lake by buying a return ticket on the passenger ferry which left every 25 minutes or so. That sounded good but we needed a nice picnic lunch first. There were plenty of boutiques and restaurants as we rode through the village, chatting on the way to a couple from Bergamo who were most enthusiastic about our little adventure, but nothing resembling an alimentari. We did find Villa D'Este (a mere 600-700E per night) which appeared to have beautiful gardens but the uniformed gentleman at the gate said that not even cyclists were allowed in (presumably, unless they were guests.)
Gail asked a woman who appeared to be carrying some shopping where we could find an alimentari. She thought for a while and gave us some detailed directions in fairly rapid fire Italian, which she repeated a few times. We found to our surprise that we grasped what she was getting at, and set off. Just up the way was the road to Switzerland, and on this road was a shopping center with a mega-hyper-supermarket, which, according to Gail, sold everything we could conceivably want for lunch if only she could find it.
We ate lunch by the lake, feeling rather pleased with the world (and the view), then got on the ferry to admire the villas, which we did.
Then back to Como for a look around, and perhaps a trip up a funicular to see the view, but it was hot and humid, and the haze was thickening, so we contented ourselves with the sights of Como, and a coffee in the square, watching (and trying to photograph) the great variety of passing cyclists.
The train was a little old fashioned affair, and the conductor was helpful and curious. It pottered through the villages on the way to Lecco, stopping at stations which had little lawns instead of platforms. Lecco looked impressive as we arrived, set on on the shores of another branch of Lake Como and overlooked by large mountains. We got to the campground devoid of provisions to find it did not have a shop, though the bar could produce a cheese and ham roll. I set off and found a supermarket about to close, and bought what I could for dinner and breakfast before I was ushered to the checkout as the last remaining customer. The campground is set by the lake with ducks, swans, waterfowl and sociable holidaying Germans. One of the Germans gave Gail a glass of juice, and another gave us his stove to use as our gas was petering out. Socialising was cut short however by the swarms of voracious mosquitoes, second only to their cousins in the Northern Territory. We decided that tomorrow night's dinner would not be cooked by us by the side of the lake, but by somebody else, to be eaten by us while sitting inside.
Fri 11 June Camping at Lecco
Allora, while riding through those incredibly affluent and speccy villages of Lake Como, and riding past elegant women especially, who just smelled of money, I've been thinking about this business of finding pleasure in life. Especially since we are told that no matter what our circumstances, we adjust to them. No matter how much we eagerly anticipate the new kitchen, it doesn't stay exciting for long. So, how does one avoid complacency? Kiew Sook said that cycle touring made her “appreciate everything”, and I've been thinking about that.
Why? Allora – you don't take much for granted.
There's hills to stickily grind up in the full glare of the sun, and the joy of flying (while drying) down the other side. Even in flat, brown dry landscapes there are invariably things to see, but you cherish green, undulating, wildflower covered ones, with lakes and mountains in the distance; there's headwinds (hard) and tail-winds (I'm feeling so strong – wow riding is effortless today); there's rain, hail and shivering cold cloud mist and then there's air which kisses your skin and blesses you.
On horribly busy urban roads, you're grateful for courteous drivers, when it's scorching hot you're glad there isn't also a headwind, when it rains you're glad it isn't also cold, when it's also cold you're glad of that great raincoat. And when it stops everything is fresh, glistening and wonderful.
This is without even considering the question of accommodation. A camping site made in heaven, or one besieged by mosquitoes. A tent which is wondrously dry the next morning, and not a wet, icy or muddy thing to deal with. The exquisite pleasure of a shower, or even just a bird-bath at the end of a sweaty day, and the wonder of a room with your own bathroom and hot water which comes out of taps.
So, there's no monotony in cycle touring. Days are made of many parts, but in total there are not- great days, and medium days, and fantastic days – and this was a fantastic day.
We left our panniers in the courtyard of the B&B in Lecco and took the train to Colico to ride back to Lecco beside Lake Como. Colico was a pretty town – we finished our breakfast of bread and jam looking out over the lake and took pity on the African man from Senegal who came to show us his wares. What a way to scratch a living. So, we let him show us, and bought a little coin purse and some bracelets at prices which we knew were inflated.
Then through fields of corn to forested slopes around the lake, with its occasional little beaches of white pebbles, to the 11th century Abbazia di Piona which had been recommended. Up and up, then down, down, down on a roadway made of rounded stones which my brain insisted were slippery, even though they weren't.(Ever since falling I'm nervous on anything slippery.)The abbey was beautiful. When we opened the door to the ancient and unusual church the monks were praying at the back of it though, so we looked around its gardens and had a coffee and a chocolate covered orange sorbet on a stick while we read about all the remedies (many alcoholic) made by the monks. Sadly, the church and cloisters were shut on the way back. Ah well. We'd had a brief glimpse.
On to the church at Corenno Plinio, and a wonderful surprise. The village between it and the sea was so tiny it felt secret and private. We walked down it's narrow steps, through stone arches in cool shade and down to the shore of the lake. Round the corner from someone's terrace with bright flowers in pots, was a little private harbour with three dinghies bobbing about in the warm sun. A couple more canoes/boats were pulled up on a tiny white pebble beach. Above were veggie gardens, and roses tumbling from handsome stone houses.
A few more kilometres of blue lake and luxuriant wooded slopes, with houses and veggie gardens and I was suddenly drenched in sweat and trembling with overwhelming, voracious starvation. So much for our blue plastic plates to put salad on. We hadn't seen a shop and now I felt I could hardly ride another metre. The restaurant round the next corner only had cold food, but she did have some potatoes which had been cooked with garlic and butter if we would like. We ate the salad, and Phil watched with amusement while I scoffed the potatoes. Did she have more? Unfortunately no.
After lunch the houses by the lake became more and more gorgeous. Across the lake we could see snow still on mountains. When we got to opulent Varenna, the lake split into two arms. There was a ferry we could take to the other side of 'our' arm. It didn't go for another half hour but we decided to take it anyway. It was fun to see beautiful Varenna from the water, and 15mins later, Bellagio was just as stunning with gorgeous waterfront hotels and canopied cafes and restaurants.
We had a 3 min ride along the front - past the wealthy in their immaculate dress. We looked strange to them I know, but there are different kinds of wealth, and I felt very happy with ours and our amazing, self-contained freedom. It was 6.30pm by this time, and Mr GPS informed us that there were still 30 odd kilometres to go, with a stiff climb out of Bellagio. Time to get cracking! Luckily, it's not absolutely dark until 10pm.
There were great vistas of lake, villages and mountains to photo while climbing – then we dropped down to the shore and found we were in the shade, which made it a perfect temperature for riding. This side of the arm was less intensively settled, and the road wound around the edge of the lake through lovely trees with lovely villages to look at on the other side and mountains rearing high above them. There were two tunnels to go through – the second was a good 2 kms long and we both felt very spooked despite our flashing lights. Cars sound horribly loud, the lighting is only dim, and a sign had said 'no bicycles'. There's no alternative road though, so what cyclists are supposed to do is a mystery. There were almost as many roadies as cars in the tunnels however, so that was cheering. I decided I felt a bit more empowered if I made my own noise, so I sang “Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect, and whistle a happy tune so no-one will suspect ...” at the top of my voice.
We found a great restaurant for a shared pizza and risotto and salad just before we got back to Colico – it was late and we couldn't endure the mosquitoes – and got home at 10pm. Allora, today had been one of those red-letter days.
The only cloud on the horizon appeared when we got the restaurant bill. Nothing wrong with the bill except the date, which was a day later than we thought (somehow lost a day in the last week). That is, we realised, our rendezvous with Morag is tomorrow, not the day after. This required a change of plan – we will go to Brescia by train and ride from there.
Saturday 12 June
We had to work out where and how to ride, since we are going straight to Brescia. Our new plan is to spend 4 nights and 3 days in Brescia – Saturday night and Sunday with Morag, and Monday and Tuesday doing the first 2 days of the lakes ride in LP, unloaded using Brescia as a base. The recommended hotels in Brescia seemed expensive, so I got on the internet and investigated some deals. The Novotel was offering a cheap room if we paid in advance on a non refundable basis.
After a leisurely breakfast (so that we could finish our beautiful limy-green Tuscan olive oil), and visiting the local market where Gail bought cheap and delicious peaches, we took the train to Brescia, which involved a change at Bergamo. Today was the first day of the school holidays here (3 months long) and the stations had lots of excited teenagers going here and there in bands. Both stations of course had stairs but no ramps or lifts, so the bike lifting Olympic training continued.
I misread the timetable at Bergamo with the result that we were on the train well and truly before it set off (spent 20 minutes wondering why there were no other passengers, what the delay was and why the driver and conductor were so relaxed).
In this train (and some others), the spacious bike compartment with hanging hooks (which we try to avoid) are just behind the driver. There is a seat which you can sit on to sort yourselves out for the trip, and the driver leaves his door open. This particular driver said we did not need to hang the bikes and we persuaded him to accept a peach to go with his mineral water and sandwiches.
After a brief discussion, the Novotel at Brescia saw the sense of not charging us to park our bikes in the secured car park (10E a night for a car), and we settled into our comfortable room in the new part of Brescia. No character at all, no views etc but relative luxury and we appreciated it, especially the air conditioning, the space and the comfortable bed.
Morag is teaching for 2 weeks in a holiday program for primary age students and staying with a host family – Ermanno and Daniela, and their 2 children. They invited us to dinner, so we took a bottle of wine and some chocolate. Ermanno and Morag picked us up. The host family lives about 12k out of Brescia in a modern suburb, and had also invited Grazia and Robert, their close friends who also have 2 children about the same age as theirs (10 and 7) in the program, and are hosting Elgin, one of the other teachers.
Dinner was pizzas, wine, orange juice, limoncello, aniseed liquor, some other kind of liquor, beer, coffee, tea and a lively cross language conversation. Over dinner, we talked abut our plans for seeing Brescia and this lead to discussion about how we should also see Verona, which lead to the proposal of an impromptu visit to Verona, for everybody. So, we are heading off to Verona tomorrow at about 4pm (after the heat of the day), with two Italian families, Morag and Elgin.
Sunday 13 June Novotel Brescia
This morning and afternoon, we took full advantage of the comforts of the Novotel to sleep in, catch up (to some extent) with the diary, and read. Lunch was a bit improvised because the supermarket over the road (very convenient) was not open (not so convenient).
At about 4 we wandered out to find Ermanno and Morag already waiting. We went back to Ermanno and Daniela's to find the assembled group and convoy of cars, and off we went along the autostrada. I'm glad we are cycling and training it – traveling on the autostrada makes everything seem busy, urbanised, and pretty unattractive.
Verona turned out to be a remarkably beautiful place – we went into the beautifully preserved Roman arena which was arranged in readiness for the summer opera season – Aida's sphinxes were on big trailers outside while the stage had the set for Turandot in place. It evidently holds 30,000.
Then we walked through the town, eating an icecream, looking in shop windows and admiring the churches, buildings and piazzas, and the broad fast flowing Adige river. We saw what was said to be Juliet's balcony in an old palace, though we had to peer through the gate as the building was closed when we got there. We walked along the river to the fortress and fortified bridge. It was quite a lovely and lively place. By this time it was about 10pm and everybody else had to get up for work, summer school etc, so we ate a roll as we walked back to the cars and set off home.
At about 11, we took up the Novotel's assertion that it had a 24 hour menu, somewhat to their surprise. The restaurant manager gallantly produced soup, some very nice fresh bread, and a pot of tea.
Monday 14 June
Today was an accidental epic of cycling.
We caught the 9am train to Bergamo, with the idea of following the LP ride from Bergamo to Iseo, via the shores of Lake Iseo then getting back to Brescia on the little train line between them.
The first part went to plan.
We rode from Bergamo along a river valley for 20k or so. Like a lot of the north as we have experienced it, the valley was built up to quite a significant extent with a reasonable amount of industry. The effect is that you are really on a suburban ride.
After a while the road turned away from the valley and began climbing on a pretty easy gradient to Abbazia, a village with, according to LP, a well preserved abbey. We stopped outside the village church and filled up the water bottles from a fountain (i.e. a tap with running spring water), then rode though it looking for the Abbey which was a bit elusive. We took a GPS inspired short cut up a really steep little street through the village, looking back for the abbey without success.
At the top of the street, which we had to walk up even without our bags, Gail asked a woman where the abbey was. She gave us directions which involved going back down for about two kms. So, we did. After more directions from some elderly cafe customers we found ourselves back at the village church by the fountain,which was the abbey! We would have noticed this perhaps if we had read the sign. So we looked inside and then went back to the cafe for a reviving coffee, in my case, and to look for an alimentari selling lunch supplies, in Gail's case.
I was successful, she wasn't, so we had an icecream instead and set off back up the hill, this time avoiding the steep short cut. The road was pretty, with great views back into the valley, and some prosperous farmhouses. Near the top we were overtaken by two cyclists from Canada, who were staying in an apartment in Bergamo and doing day trips on their road bikes. They said they found the drivers in Italy not so good for cyclists, which surprised us, but then said they had been in France last year, and the drivers there were really good, so it's all a matter of comparison. They agreed that the drivers in Canada were much worse again – sounded a bit like Australian car culture.
At the top was the chapel of the Madonna Dei Cicli, dedicated to cyclists, and a statue of a ciclisti with a guardian angel. All very encouraging for the downhill which swept through hairpin bends with lovely views of the valley below and the mountains ranging around it.
We found a supermarket to finally buy supplies for lunch (it was only 3.30 after all) and a pleasant lakeside park to eat it in.
After lunch we set off for the next climb over what turned out be a not very big hill to Lake Iseo. This was a rewarding climb, because Lake Iseo is well below the first lake, with a nice long hairpin descent with really spectacular views. We lost each other for a while, going in different directions along the lake but eventually sorted that out.
The ride along the lakeside to Iseo was quite long, and OK, but not a patch on our Como ride. The high point was chatting to a beautifully decked out Italian road cyclist about this and that, and having him tell us he was 70, and that he rode for 2 or 3 hours most days. He looked in his 50's and was fun to ride with because, as well as being a pleasant man (and telling us to look him up when we came back to Italy), he dealt with the 2 tunnels we went through by sitting up and riding nonchalantly without lights, hands on hips and elbows stuck out. He owned the road and the cars were there on sufferance.
We found Iseo and got to the station as the 7.33 train was leaving. Never mind, we would have dinner in Iseo and catch the 8.33 train. Bought the tickets and validated them. Dinner in the square was pleasant but the service was a bit slow. Never mind, I had read the timetable and there was a train at 9.33.
Finished dinner, went to the station to catch the 9.33. Ticket office shut, departures display showed no departures at all, arrival display showed one arrival. Found the station assistant who said, yes, the trains were finito, and they had been surprised when the people with the bici had not turned up for the last train after buying tickets. Oh dear.
Fortunately we had brought some lights. Brescia was 20 odd k away. The wine with dinner was perhaps regrettable in all the circumstances, but we had no real choice, did we? So off we set in the gathering dark. Mr GPS did a sterling job of keeping us off busy roads, it was mostly flat or down hill after a few climbs, traffic was light and the evening and night air was pleasant. The last few km into Brescia were on the interminable side but at 11pm and 120km from Bergamo, we pulled, just a tad weary, into the hotel and amused the desk staff with our adventures (Alfredo from the desk plans to come to Australia next year and has an invitation to stay for a while.)
Tuesday 15 June Novotel Brescia
Our plan had been to do the second day of the LP ride to or from Lake Garda, but a combination of our tiredness after yesterday's marathon, the fact that much of yesterday's ride had not quite lived up to expectations and the fact that is was raining pretty seriously made the decision to stay in pretty easy. We caught up with the diary – one had a sleep while the other wrote, and then vice-versa. It stayed wet all day. So lucky we had good weather yesterday. Eventually we walked into Brescia, and found an ok restaurant for dinner.
