A day in Bellagio...

I got rained on. POURED. Should have brought out some soap and shampoo, it rained that hard. Not all day, luckily. I wandered Bellagio in the sunshine, strolling up and down narrow cobble-stoned streets in between buildings. Didn't wear the hiking shoes. I was wearing my cheap sandals from Target. But for casual strolling, they weren't so bad. I went as far through Bellagio as I could until I ran into water and ended up talking to a wonderful elderly Italian gentleman who told me I should go to Pescallo. He assured me that I could easily walk it. He said we might see eachother again. I said probably so but I didn't see how. It was ok. He was a nice man and I am always thrilled when I find someone who can speak english.
So, I strolled through Bellagio until I recognized the name of the town on a sign and headed in that direction. I didn't know how far away it was but the man assured me I could walk there. Along the way, walking up steep streets and hoping I didn't get hit by speeding Italian cars, I found an amazing old cemetery. It is hard to explain the utter beauty of the headstones and mausoleums that I knew must be old and historical. Hidden up on this hill, surrounded by 6 foot granite walls. At home our cemeteries are wide open grassy spaces enclosed by metal fences. You never expect to find an historical cemetery. I stopped and walked inside for a moment. It wasn't necessarily a spiritual experience but I was in awe at the beauty of the ancient headstones. Many with actual pictures inset on the marble. Some with old pictures just sitting in their frames on the granite ledge. I only stayed for a few minutes because I was really afraid that one of the residents would come in and shoo me away for disturbing the sanctity of the grounds. I took some pictures simply because I felt I would never see anything like this again.
In Pescallo there is not much more than a hotel and a restaurant. The rest are homes and apartments. I had walked all the way there following a road and signs and only realized once I got there that I could have cut over by taking the narrow walkways in between the buildings of Bellagio. When I looked at my gps on my phone, I discovered that there was an easier way to get to Pescallo. Oh well, had I taken the short cut, I would have missed all of the scenery and the really awesome cemetery. I'll take the long way any day.
Throughout my two days of being in Italy, there are moments when I audibly gasp at the beauty I find. There are times when I actually feel like I am on a Hollywood movie set. It is so beautiful here. The color, the architecture, the language.
After I got back to Bellagio, I stopped at a restaurant. I thought I was heading into the Gelato shop but walked in the wrong door. Not to be rude (and look dumb) and turn and walk back out, I walked up to the bar and said "American" because I figured then the guy behind the counter would speak english to me. Nope. He thought I was asking for American coffee. Oh, ok. So, I had coffee. I did look at the menu but I really just wanted something small (and inexpensive). This trip has been pretty inexpensive for me because I don't eat. Not because I'm not hungry but because I'm afraid of looking dumb when I order. I don't speak Italian. At all. Yes, I had ample opportunity to learn Italian before I got here. I had purchased "Italian for Dummies" and even got Rosetta Stone Italian through work. I had no excuse. I had just procrastinated and ended up getting here with very little preparation. I can say "grazie" and "scuzie" but that's about it. I haven't enjoyed any amazing pizza or pasta. I have only eaten full meals at the hostel, where they only offer one menu item but you can understand what it is. I have been afraid of not being able to say what I want. It's sad, but it is my own fault. I had visions of being Julia Roberts in "Eat, Pray, Love" and being able to just sit in a restaurant by myself and eat whatever. Instead I wander the streets alot and never enjoy the one thing I looked forward to in Italy. The authentic Italian food. I am afraid. But I do love it here. It's truly beautiful and I do so love listening to the natives speak to eachother. I will wish I had done more to prepare.
Anyway, so, after having the American coffee (yep, that's what it tasted like), I went into the shop next door and picked up a skinny can of Coke Zero and a piece of chocolate and sat out on the bench and watched the people go by. Then I wandered around some more. The thing about Italy is that you are constantly walking. Really, there is no need for a car because you can take a bus or a train anywhere. When you have a car, you have to worry about where to park it. That's what I have noticed in the two days I've been here. It's just easier to walk.
So, I walked around some more then headed back towards the ferry dock. Now, mind you the sun had been shining all day then the clouds began to move in. I stepped into a gelato shop and ordered a carmel and pesca (peach-which I butchered when asking, thinking I was saying it correctly. The woman behind the counter corrected me rather snobbily-I imagine she was saying "stupid American tourists" in her head. Yep that's me). Either way, it was really delicious and I sat at a table outside enjoying it.
Afterwards I found a park bench to sit in trying to decide what to do next. I had walked all over Bellagio and felt I had seen all I needed to see. As I was sitting on the bench, an elderly gentleman sat next to me. He began to speak to me in Italian. I apologized for being American and he stopped speaking. His phone rang and he got up to answer it and I took the opportunity to walk away.
I walked over to the ticket booth to get a boat ticket back to Menaggio and was informed I needed to go to the car ferry office for my ticket. I said "I don't have a car". I feel my humor is lost to the Italians. He just repeated himself and I walked away to find the car ferry ticket office.
I purchased my ticket using my credit card (because there was a line and I didn't want to have to dig for my change and look even more stupid than I already felt) and the guy behind the counter looked at me, again as if to say, "stupid american tourist". I can't win. When they come to America and use their card, do I think "stupid tourist"? No, I am glad they don't try to count their change to me. Anyway, I got my ferry ticket and walked to over to a nearby railing to wait for the boat. One of the ferries pulled in but since it was going to Varenna and not Menaggio, I knew to wait til the next one (although I did find out later that this ferry also stopped in Menaggio and I could have taken it-oh well). So, as I am standing there, minding my own business watching the cars and tourists unload from the ferry, here comes my elderly Italian friend (not the one that I met earlier but the one from the bench who got the phone call). He walks up and once again begins to speak to me in Italian. I, again, told him I was American and didn't understand Italian (I always think that when I say this they will either nod and walk away or start conversing in broken english. Not this guy.) He began to chatter away and it wasn't until I noticed he was looking me up and down over and over that I realized he was talking about my appearance. I wish I could have understood one word that he'd said but he was speaking so quickly that I couldn't pick up a single word that I recognized. He made some gesture to his face that I'm hoping was saying I was beautiful otherwise I don't want to know. Then he put out his hand to shake mine. He took my hand, shook it like a normal handshake, then did the American finger-grasp handshake, then he kissed my hand and rushed to catch the ferry. I stood there for a moment in shock then just chuckled. I had never experienced anything like this before. I sort of hope I never will again. It was flattering but it was also, on the opposite spectrum, very creepy. Probably a good thing I couldn't understand what he said.
I was standing waiting after that ferry left, it began to sprinkle. It had sprinkled earlier and stopped so really, that's all I expected it to do. Because I was under a tree, I didn't feel any of the raindrops...until it began to rain harder. And harder and harder. I stood as long as I could under the tree then made a bee-line to the covered ticket area and joined the already sardine packed group into a little room.
As I was standing off by myself in this tiny little room, I began to listen to different conversations that were happening around me. I am still amazed when I pick up a conversation I can understand. Even walking through Bellagio (which, by the way, is nothing like the hotel in Oceans 11, 12, or 13.) I would pass a couple carrying on a conversation and would smile because I knew what they were saying. At one point I even said to a woman "It still freaks me out when I realize that I understand". She laughed. Either because she gets what I mean or she thought I was crazy.
Anyway, I'm standing in this tiny glass enclosed waiting room and started picking up a conversation between two British couples who were talking about how much fun a Disney cruise is. I had taken a Disney cruise back in 2010 and was ironically wearing the hoodie I had bought from Castaway Cay. I never said a word to the couple but all of a sudden one of the husbands looked at me, saw my sweatshirt and suddenly I'm part of the conversation.
The rain poured down all the way from the boat leaving Bellagio to when it dropped people off in Varenna. I had visions of walking up to the youth hostel soaking wet. Luckily, when we arrived in Menaggio, the rain had stopped.

Hostels...not to be confused with the horror movie

I have a new found appreciation for hostels. I'm sure there are bad hostels out there but the one I stayed in at Melaggio was really wonderful. Clean, friendly, and thankfully, they spoke english. The front desk girl, Maria, had grown up in America but she was Italian. Then there was Toby. He was British. Wanted to live in Switzerland (my new friend, Emily from Chicago, and I were vying for his job whenever he decided to move on). I wish I had taken a picture of them while I was there but you can find pictures of them on the Facebook page. The rooms were clean, the bathrooms small, but for the price of $46 for two nights, it was worth it. I paid 1 euro for a lock (which, now that I think about it, I think I put a 5 euro deposit down for that key and I've left it behind...dangit) and a euro for a towel. They gave you clean sheets and a pillow case. The beds were comfortable and the room held four bunk beds. My bunkmates were all pretty polite. I ended up coming over to Varenna with Emily from Chicago and two other young women, which I never did get their names (that's horrible) from Australia. We even had a cappuccino together once I dropped my (heavy) belongings off in the Varenna hotel we were staying at for the tour. They wanted to hike (straight up) to a castle but, once I started heading up and realized what I had ahead of me, I knew i'd never make it. They are half my age and definitely have more energy and better muscles than I do. I didn't want to hold them up or make them have to stop and wait for me so I said my goodbyes and let them go. The cobblestones heading up to the castle were slippery also and I had left my hiking boots at home.
Anyway, back to the hostel.
The BBQ was really good, but since I had only eaten, really nothing, since I had iffy scrambled eggs and bacon (cooked to crispy almost-burnt perfection) in the morning, the chicken wings and ribs and polenta was delicious. I paid extra for the grilled vegies but really didn't enjoy them. They were grilled but more soggy than anything else.
I guess the Saturday bbq at the hostel is pretty popular, plus it was Saturday so the place was busy.
The night before we had met a young woman and two men from Germany. The young woman, it turns out, was the sister of one of the young men. The other guy wasn't so young-mid 30'sto 40's. But he gave them a ride to Italy. Can you imagine just saying "Let's go to Italy" one day and then just jumping in your car and going? I guess they have companies that you can just carpool with to another country. What a wonderful idea! With Switzerland only an hour away, I would be just country jumping as often as I could.
So, back to the German group. The young woman was blond and typical German. She was beautiful but seemed a little cold and unfriendly to me. The older man never really said much (they could speak english) but her younger brother was more friendly. When I came down for dinner (because I had passed out for an hour after my trek throughout Bellagio) my Chicagoan friend, Emily, was talking to the German boy whose name, it turned out, was Wolfgang...so German. He actually introduced himself as Wolfie. Now I had taken a picture of him the night before (without his knowledge, ofcourse) and posted it on Facebook because he had a striking resemblance to my oldest son, Jeffrey. After that I had one of those "Oh, he's so sweet" relationships with him because I felt like I was talking to my son. Nice boy. In dental school. His sister, Johanna, was ever watching over him. He began to make jokes about what she was going to allow him to do or not do. At one point, I actually told him that she was going to tuck a napkin in his shirt so he didn't spill. I wish that I had found a way to stay in contact with him so I could see how well he did in dental school. As I left today, I hugged him goodbye and wished him luck with school. Seriously, nice boy.
As more people were arriving at the hostel for the night, we had a New Zealander join our table. At this point it was Joyce, from California, Emily, from Chicago, Wolfie from Germany (I don't remember what part exactly was it as close to Hungary), and myself. Nick from New Zealand added to the funny mix. He was in tourism (although we're not sure what) and actually lived in Germany. His humor was over the top with sarcasm and he felt a need to stir up trouble. First he talked about how lazy women became after they got married and then felt a need to tell their spouse how to behave and what to do. From there we covered religion. He stirred up Joyce's feathers with his comments and she labeled him a chauvinist pig, at one point even oinking at him. He felt a need to find out what religion we all were. I was Christian, of course. Emily didn't want to label herself. Wolfgang was Catholic and, Joyce said she was Buddhist. We determined later that she just wanted to remain neutral and so she picked a neutral religion. Once we passed the religion discussion, she went to bed. She'd had enough. It was pretty funny how she became irritated by Nick's sarcasm when I just let it go by. He did, at one point, let me know that by being a mother of four children, I had done the most amazing thing in the world. Deep down inside, that fight-picking New Zealander was not a bad guy.
At one point we talked about Germany and Nazis. Poor Wolfgang sat there uncomfortably. Nick talked about how he thought the current Germans felt about the situation of old. When he got up and walked away to use the restroom, I asked Wolfgang what he had been taught in school about German history. When else are you going to get a chance to ask that? He explained that they did teach the students in school about German history and that it was a sad subject. He even said that yes, Hitler was influential but that the Germans had a choice in who they would follow and shouldn't have followed Hitler. They could have said no but chose to follow him anyway. Yes, it was a scary time to stand up against the things that were happening and people who did refuse to follow were killed. But they still had the choice and if they followed Hitler, they were just as bad.
Where else do you get the opportunity to learn so much from people of other countries. For me, the hostel was a great place to do that. I wouldn't have changed that for the world.
We all sat together (except Joyce who'd enough) and laughed and talked about ourselves and the world in general. We closed the restaurant/lounge down and when we got upstairs to our room, we had a full house. Every bed was filled. Emily and I went to sleep, exhausted.
The next morning I realized I wish I'd brought a flashlight. It's hard to try and get into the shower first when you an't see your belongings to gather them together. My phone was dead and so I couldn't use it for light. I didn't want to turn on the light and disturb my roommates so I waited. Realizing I had my iPod to use for light, I dug around in my things and ended up just bringing my suitcase into the bathroom with me. It was easier than trying to dig through the suitcase to find clean clothes for the day. BUT, I ended up forgetting the keys to my suitcase in my backpack. On my bed. After my shower I just put on the clothes I had worn in and changed when I got back into the room. By then, the lights were on and my roommates were awake. Once dressed and makeup on (because I can't bear to be seen without makeup) I headed downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast included with your stay at the hostel was bread, coffee, and juice. Italians LOVE to have chocolate on their bread for breakfast. Yes, it's true, I had chocolate on my bread. Having bread with just butter and jelly will never be as good as bread with chocolate spread. So, I skipped the 4 euro eggs and bacon and just ate what was included with my stay. It was more than enough. Nick from New Zealand sat at the table with me while the Germans ate with Joyce. Emily had found new friends and was sitting at another table.
Later, as I was packing up my things to check out of the hostel, Nick came to me with a pen and notebook that I'm guessing comes from his company. He said I needed to write things down about my trip the old-fashioned way: with a pen and paper. A very nice gesture from a guy that caused so much trouble the night before.
It was sad to leave the hostel after my two days. As I said, I would go back there again.