Lago d'Orta

Perhaps you don't need me to say this. Perhaps it's obvious, but oh, is it beautiful here! 

(From our balcony: morning light)

The hotel room at Laqua turns out to be composed of two spaces -- sleeping and living, and the length of both is flanked by a spacious balcony with several seating options. If I had to recognize one quality that the hotel seems to strive for it's this -- a peaceful serenity that allows you to exhale to the fullest.

Not that it can be achieved by spacial surroundings alone. There are always interferences, physical and mental. For instance, I'm sure late sleepers are going to protest the digger that is cutting into the stone of the nearby mountain side. Put put put. From 8:30 til noon, when they break for a three hour lunch. We were already done with breakfast by the earlier hour, but only one other person was with us in the dining area so you can imagine that the rest were still nursing hangovers or recovering in their rooms from the exertion of reading by the pool. Put put put. (on the upside, the soundproofing here is total. Close the window and you have silence.)

Or, how about the squeal coming from my little one as a fly lands on her bread during breakfast? Did you hear it? The point is, we are so screened back home, even at the farmhouse, that flies walking over our foods is a rare occurrence. Not so in al fresco dining in Italy. Bzzz, land. Every meal.

These are the funny little things that make me smile because they tell us we are alive and not cardboard figures trying to avoid every aspect of life except for that which gives us comfort.

I also have a tentative comment on who comes to these parts to vacate. I hear some English, I hear lots of Italian. I dont quite distinguish Italian accents but I would bet all the sweet booties in your closet that there are a lot of Milanese here. I always thought that Milan people were stiffer than those you'll meet in just about any other region of the country. They don't crack a smile unless you really pump the Negronis and spritzes and Prosecco's into  them come evening. If a waiter calls your child principessa in Milan it's because he is not really from Milan. He just came to work there. I'm sure there are plenty of lovely people in Milan, they're just awfully stressed in my opinion.

So, I prompt Squirms to speak quietly here as I would in France, rather than as I would not in the rest of Italy.

On the upside, the people at Aqua (my hotel) are lovely. Absolutely lovely and full of understanding and helpful compassion. A+ for dealing with Nonna and granddaughter -- a combination that one still rarely sees in travel.

About our day:

First came the night with the usual middle of the night wake up. It's always like that when you suddenly switch to the European clock. I told Snowdrop to go to the other room and read a book. She did that and came back sleepy. How nice to share space with a seven year old!

Breakfast on the terrace. 

What abundance! Rolls, sweet rolls, eggs, fruits, yogurts, pound cake. And this is a first -- the waiter brings us a Sacher torte baked with the signature Cannavaciuolo tag.

A beautiful beginning to the day.

Remember -- this may well be the last sunny day here. It is also very warm. By afternoon we are at 88F (31C) and the sun is strong. On the one hand, I want to do everything outdoorsy that is on our "must do" list today. On the other hand, the sun wears you out. Still, let's start ambitiously. 

We walk over a short distance to the ferry stop and wait for the boat that goes down to Orta San Giulio. 

(The selfie: proof of my existence!)

This is a much pleasanter way to travel "to town" than by car. Ten minutes along the water and you're there. But, you are tied to the ferry schedule. Or, you book a taxi way in advance to get back home at a different hour, making wild guesses as to the time you'll be ready to call it quits. In either case, you're tied to a predetermined schedule.

Here's our beautiful boat ride:

We don't go first to town, we go instead get off at the island in the middle of the lake: Isola San Giulio with the Basilica San Giulio and an old seminary which is now a Benedictine Monastery with cloister nuns living there. 

One path circumvents the island and there are signs everywhere about the importance of silence to a good life.

I'm not sure Snowdrop buys into the whole thing of living in silence. She is not especially a loud child, except when a fly lands on her bread, so it hardly matters, but still -- kids don't really get the meditative aspects of a peaceful mind and a quiet heart.

We stop at a gift shop, because for Snowdrop gift shops are super fun. She wants a yoyo and a fan. 

I never had a yo-yo! 

You'll not play with it. 

Please!!! I buy it. She plays with it.

We then take the boat to Orta San Giulio. 

(Captain of the ferry)

This is your quintessential picturesque town... 

... whose primary function these days is probably tourism. You hear English, you hear Italian. Actually lots of Italian.

We buy gelato on the main Square.

(This one's for me: peaches and strawberries)

(She always takes chocolate)

From here (Piazza Motta), we walk along a street... 

... that should eventually lead us to Sacro Monte d'Orta. This is a devotional complex with 31 chapels and 370 statues done by various Lombardy sculptors, including those who worked on Milan's Duomo. 

(Talk about devotional -- too hot and too unnecessary to hide the fact that there comes a time when we must feed our babies)

Initially, Snowdrop is willing to do the hike, but as the heat sets in, her enthusiasm wanes. We pause, we go to a toy store..,.

Nope, she'd rather not make the (admittedly uphill) spiritual journey. And I'm okay with that. We linger, we sip some beverages, and then I call off the taxi. There's no reason to spend more time here. Despite the beauty of the narrow streets, you feel the heat. She feels the heat.

I think about how Nietzsche fell in love with Lou Andreas-Salome, a Russian psychoanalyst and writer here, in this town, many decades ago and I think how it must have been in another season.

(Waiting for the boat: a good view onto the Island we'd visited...)

(At the boat stop: tell me that these people are not Milanese!)

We take the boat home to our village.

And eat lunch, a late lunch, at a local pizzeria and she orders... noodles.

Our hotel guy says -- every Italian child will do the same. Ask for pasta for every meal of every day. 

And then she does what she loves so much -- she plays in the pool, asking me every two minutes to come in and I dont hurry, enjoying the views onto the lake and doing some people watching as well. People hell bent on letting go of that stress, book in hand, sometimes drink in other hand, on a chair, feet in water...

... sometimes whole body in water, books still in hand...

After a while I join her and we throw in a noodle... 

... and we play and swim together and then she asks if we could swim in the lake. This is tricky because the lake gets very deep very quickly. We find the landing and the little ladder that goes down into the perfectly clean and clear water and I see that it is up to my chest, so yes, she could stand on tippy toe right at the lake's edge. But take a step or two away and she would be underwater. 

Still, I want her to feel the lake and so I hover as she climbs down, stands for a minute and then hastily climbs out. Too cold! - she tells me. I breathe a sigh of relief. We return to the pool, swimming and floating with noodles, because though we are not ourselves stressed, the do-not-exert-yourself mentality is very contagious. 

Dinner is on the patio of our hotel. Yes, cooked by the team of Cannavacciuolo. Was the grand chef himself in the kitchen? 

He was.

I did not expect that. He has his flagship Villa Crespi restaurant in town and that's where his rosettes hang, so I imagined he's more there than here, but still, this is his baby as well. 

Snowdrop loves a good steak and that's one way of getting her to order something "grownup" in a good restaurant. She'd been primed and prepped to behave. This one counts. No fussing allowed. You'll be the only child on the patio.

She agrees to dress up (on preapproved clothes - she can be stubborn that way).

(Here: with yo-yo. No, you cannot take a yo-yo to a good restaurant! Really? Really.)

There isn't anything on the menu that would appeal to a kid, but there is, of course a ton that I would love. Still, what to do with the little girl... The meal is really to give her a good experience. I reread the menu. Probably three times. Maybe five.

Ah! There is a beef dish. Her parents have worked with her on that. I point to it with a plea to the kitchen: keep it simple!

The chef takes on the challenge. Let's switch the beef and add French fries. He has kids. he knows. 

She is enthralled. Two steaks on her plate, tender, flavorful. She's full after the first but tells me she cant stop eating it. (The fries are fine, but she concentrates on the beef.)

Done. Down to the last drop. She is giddy, I am happy. We talk about life, love, food, stars in the sky... It is a wonderful night.

(Selfie: she tells me to keep it serious. I try.)

Evening. With beautiful views. 

And a full heart, a full stomach, and a sleepy child.

And so much love...