It's our last full day by the lake. It very much feels like the end of a long vacation run for Snowdrop and frankly, I think she is very ready to return to school routines. That's likely true for a lot of kids her age. (Her "first day of school" is on Thursday. My other grandkids have varying "first days": Primrose starts a new school today, Juniper and Sparrow will continue in their same places where they will have been all summer, Sandpiper starts his school career at the end of next month.)
Perhaps because we are at the end of vacation, we are not so ambitious today. Storms passed through at night, but the day begins for us with sunshine and just a few puffy clouds. Still, it is hot! I'm thinking we should just stick close to home and explore the community in which we live.
But first, breakfast -- our last one on this lovely spot by the lake.
As usual, she arranges her foods just so, then devours them all, one by one, until only croissant crumbs are left.
And now for our local walk.
Our small hotel (it has a total of 18 little apartments) is actually not in Orta San Guilio proper -- it's in a community (for lack of a better word) called Pettenasco. This is where we have eaten all our dinners. This is where we go to the ferry stop if we want to catch the boat into Orta town. But apart from that -- apart from dinners and boats, we know little about this place. Does it have beach access? A grocery store? Anything else of note? We set out to explore it a little.
Again, aimless walking is not a Snowdrop favorite, but she goes along with it, especially since the alternative is a more ambitious excursion. She does not want a more ambitious excursion!
We hug the shore path. It's not especially beautiful -- it's sort of like walking a back alley in Chicago -- you see everyone's rear. That part which they don't prettify for the public. An occasional campground adds to the casual feel of this path.
But, the vegetation is lovely and the glimpses of the lake remind you what's really at play here.
And eventually, we get to a point where a stream, the Torrente Pescone, runs into Lago Orta and this is indeed interesting because you have the meeting of a cold current and a warmer lake, shallow here, at least at the edges.
We wade a little, but not much. Snowdrop tosses rocks, I take a look around us.
You see families and older couples in fold-up chairs, or sitting on colorful towels, faces to the waterfront for that last bit of summer loveliness.
It's a tableau out of a painting. An idle moment at the water's edge. Leisure on a strip of tired grass.
We turn in from here. I'm in search of a cafe that's on my phone map. She is anything but happy with that choice. It is getting to be quite hot and there's too little shade on these asphalt quiet roads. Still, I coax her forward and though the cafe turns out to be closed, it's appended to this community's supermarket. We don't have masks, so I'm reluctant to go into its depth, but Snowdrop does find one of those machines that spits out junk and insists that this piece of junk is exactly what she needs in life. Okay. I'm not going to stand in the way of bliss over a 2 Euro piece of nonsense. I have the coin, I try to push it in. No luck. She is crestfallen! Cant we try again? Please???
I ask the sales clerk why the damn thing wont spit out the stupid toy. She shrugs her shoulders: not our machines, not my problem. Hmmm... what if I put in single Euro coins, one after the other?
Bingo! She gets a squishy hedgehog which she plays with for less than two minutes, but claims to love with a lifelong passion.
One more stop.
No, not at the church. She dislikes the ringing of the bells (at noon now, they are going strong). I tell her if she lived here she would get used to it, but I don't push for a visit. I'll stick with admiring the tower.
Instead, we go to a fruit and veggie grocer and here we strike fruit gold. Peaches and strawberries to die for. An orange, tomatoes, some Nutella cookies. Will we finish it all before tomorrow?
We eat lunch in our room. I ask the kitchen for something light for me -- I get thin slices of veal in a tuna sauce. I'm told it's "typical" of the region.
And finally we go back to the pool. I have to say, I'll miss this little body of swimmable for her water. There isn't a smell of chlorine and of course, the views are compelling. I have nothing against our community pools back home, but they are loud. This one exudes serenity. And of course, Snowdrop has improved her swimming by leaps and bounds by having so much space and time to push herself a little more every day.
And very quickly it is evening. I'm given a Negroni. She reads books about Olympian gods, I pack.
And now we are ready for our last meal.
(me of her...)
(she of me...)
We eat dinner. here, at the Bistrot. She gets her steak frites, I order an exquisite fish dish...
And the sun has long set and the meal was TV celebrity host worthy and the whole stay here was, from this grandma's perspective and perhaps from that of the little girl -- incredible.
We have a long return tomorrow and of course, there is the threat of bad weather that could well disrupt everything. I didn't worry about weather for this week and I'm not going to fret about it for tomorrow. We will get home somehow. I'm sure of it.
With so much love...
