For the first time in my life I missed a flight. Whilst I should have left with the girls last Friday, I didn't feel ready to swap to Spanish skies and so skipped that plane and booked another.
As I waved them off I felt a pang of jealousy that I wasn't going with them (my ever present FOMO going crazy at me from the inside.) There was no doubt in my mind that I needed the extra time here but sacrificing three days with my friends wasn't easy. I drove back to the house, wishing for the millionth time this year that I could split myself in two and be in both places at once.
The following morning though I felt much better. The sun was shining the brightest it has all week, the lake glistening as though it had something to prove; see, you made the right decision. With the air so still, it was the perfect weather to head out on the canoe so we spent all morning gliding through the water, admiring the villas along the shore. It really was the most beautiful day with a sky so blue, it made the lake look green.
As we paddled onwards towards the rocks, a flock of herons took flight from the bushes. Closer in, we spotted a tiny wag tail, a yellow spectacle shimmying above its reflection. Immersed in the nature out on the lake, I felt completely relaxed and experienced a strange sensation that we were supposed to be there. Just call me pochahontas! Every now and again we'd stop to appreciate the setting and it occurred to me how nice it is that even my dad, after all these years, can still see how wonderful it is.
After a quick lunch at Fabio's we went to check out the guitar festival being held in the next village. It was organised by a Brazilian woman and therefore had a South American twist. The first musician we listened to originated from Peru and played many songs in Spanish that I wasn't consciously familiar with, but found myself singing along to! I guess that's what four months in South America will do to you.
The later act was a duet who together performed a rather bizarre set. Technically, what they were doing was genius but it was a little too progressive for the audience on the night. Whilst the guitarist caressed the wooden edges of his guitar, the singer strutted around the stage, clucking her tongue and making guttural sounds. In true South American style, she was loving life but I'm not convinced anyone else was. Using the excuse that we had to be up early the next morning, we escaped before the final performance began.
And it wasn't a lie! We left the house at seven am on Sunday to begin our trek to Pizzo de Trei Signori, one of Lake Como's larger mountains. We abandoned the car at 1,400 metres where the air was fresh but the skies clear. As soon as the sun came up, it would be another scorcher.
The walk was immediately steep but I was distracted from the difficulty by the beautiful landscapes on either side. The higher we climbed, the more we could see of the forests below and the Swiss alps with their snowy peaks appearing above distant clouds. Though the view stretched for miles, we couldn't spot another soul. It was incredibly peaceful and the only sounds were those of faint running water and animal bells, tinkling like wind chimes blowing in time with the breeze.
Though it had been pretty all along, nothing could have prepared me for what we found at Lake Torno. Emerging from the trees, we came to an open clearing with the most amazing lake, perfectly reflecting the mountains surrounding it. From then on I felt as though I was seeing the world through a filter; the colours and contrasts too strong to be real. A little further on we came to a second lake, this one larger and unbelievably blue. The water was so clear that even as we climbed higher, we could still make out fish swimming beneath the surface.
The steepness never stopped and where the ground was grassy, it was pretty slippery. In one particularly spectacular manoeuvre I missed my footing and came tumbling down the mountain side, bashing every limb along the way. I fortunately wasn't hurt but my knees were bloodied and shoulders bruised: Pizzo 1 - Chiara 0.
Four hours later we reached the final summit and clambered on all fours to the 2,554 metre top. Once again, we'd been chased by a cloud so our view from the peak was pretty minimal. Though a little disappointing, I didn't really mind for we'd had clear skies almost the entire way and in that morning alone, I'd seen enough beautiful landscapes to last me a lifetime.
The way down should have been much quicker but we stopped at a rifugio for a carb loaded plate of polenta which is traditional to the area. The stubborn cloud was refusing to lift and without the sun, it was rather cool so we knocked back a grappa each before heading back out. It more than warmed me up, it burnt my insides!
Unsurprisingly, I woke up on Monday with jelly legs and so rather than our usual morning jog, we took the bikes up the mountain instead. Starting in the next village, there's a route we followed which was once a railway but is now a great little cycle path. At least it was until the storms this summer caused half of it to collapse! We were about twenty minutes in when we came to the first part blocked off by metal fencing. My Italian isn't perfect but I'm pretty sure the signs read 'Danger: Do Not Enter.' Nevertheless, we clambered through the netting, carrying our bikes past the gaping hole in the ground.
The uphill ride was harder than I'd expected and after yesterday's climb, we'd earned an afternoon of rest. Sadly it was also my final day so I took my last opportunity to lie by the lake, reading my Murakami and breathing in the fresh alpine air.
Even with the extension of another four days, I still don't feel ready to leave Italy. In fact I get the feeling that the longer I stay, the harder it will be to ever tear myself away. Lake life has been so easy to adapt to, particularly as I've had my amazing family around me to make it feel like home.
Now, however, it's time to move and find out what antics I've been missing out on in the last few days in Spain. It's going to be a rather short and sweet trip but I can't wait to spend it frolicking in the sunshine, drinking sangria and laughing until my cheeks hurt with the people I love.
Ciao for now Italia, until next time!
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