A little south of Göschenen, Switzerland our train is suddenly sucked into the dark, open mouth of the St Gottardo tunnel. We hold our breath for nine miles or so, the pressure and speed make our ears pop. When we are finally spat out on the other side of the mountain, we are in the canton of Ticino.
The six-hour journey from Geneva had carried me over, through and under the Alps, and though I am still in Switzerland, it feels and looks more like Italy to me.
From the breakfast room at Hotel Montaldi in Locarno, I look out upon the slate gray water of Lago Maggiore and a burst of heavy rain. As soon as it slows to a drizzle, I will go out for an initial explore. For now, though, I am enjoying a second cup of foamy cappuccino, crusty unsalted bread and red currant jam while jotting down a few notes on the the Swiss and the Italian landscape.
The Swiss countryside always wears its Sunday best. Homes are like crisp white aprons embroidered with tidy colorful gardens. The alfalfa fields are polished daily, trees starched and pressed. Manicured hedge-rows stand in orderly queues and well-behaved geraniums never drop their petals on the front steps. Swiss cows come in neatly brushed matched sets. All is properly bathed in Alpine sunshine, valleys are pictures from children’s story books, and the towns carry no-nonsense names like Brig and Chur and Thun.
As we approach Italy, the fields begin to look a little scruffy, the houses need a bit of paint, gardens are becoming undisciplined. Villages have musical names - Airolo, Verbania Cannobio, Bellinzona. Rural northern Italy is like a ragged quilt, carelessly tossed on a lumpy love-worn bed. Pastures are frayed around the edges, stitching has pulled loose and the stuffing is coming out. Ancestral homes of flaking cream and ochre plaster blink their tired windows, sleepy curtains droop lazily. Roof tiles are patched and patched again, wood piles lie in jumbled criss-cross. Even the ducks have rumpled tail feathers. On a train whooshing through Italy’s lake region, one can accidentally sit down on someone’s hat and crush it flat and it is a cause for great hilarity. Ben venuto in Italia – the land of savory breads, hearty wine, affordable lodging and laughter!
“Excuse me, please,” I ask on this rainy Italian street, “Is the bank close by?”
“No, signora,” the news vendor smiles, “it is open today.”
“Um...okay then... well... thank you very much.”
I check in now at a small locanda in Treviso. It is a charming, easy-to-get-around-in town about a twenty-minute train ride from Venice. Treviso gives us porticoed streets, lovely small canals, frescoed homes, and the delicious red chicory called raddichio rosso. But I choose to stay here mainly because a cozy little room with breakfast and dinner is only $65, a price nowhere to be found in Venice.
The first thing I notice upon entering my room, is that the shower is the bathroom. I mean that the bathroom has a shower head on one wall and a drain in the center of the floor. I guess what I am trying to say is that I believe I will have the distinct advantage here of being able to take a shower and sit on the toilet at the same time. How efficient.
It has been an exhausting, but exhilarating day and I will head out first thing in the morning for the quick hop to Venice. The early train is at 7:30. Who am I kidding? I’m on holiday, the 9:00 o’clock will do. For now, I’m settling in with a bottle of tangy Valpolicella, a few crisp anisette biscotti and Thomas Mann’s A Death in Venice, which I have probably already read five times. Tomorrow anything could happen, and no doubt it will. Oh boy!
Your travel adventures are beautifully shared once again!
You have such delight in travel. We were taken out of school for ayear to see EVERY historical marker in the country. It took a year. Anita and I were just along for the ride. Motels were $5 a night back in the 60s. Don't know I learned much except anyone can just stop the car ont he side of the road for picnic lunch and supper... a normal thing, and chocolate mild does not survive a hot car ride. As adult I drove a big orange semi through all the states you can get to without swimming. I liked that better.