We only saw one lake in reality… not counting the beauties I spotted from the plane. Lake Como is an hour’s train journey North of Milan, where me and Bill spent a few days earlier this month taking it easy wandering around and pointing at nothing in particular, jumping off the train at Como the first impression is of a gorgeous built-apon, fairly ancient gem of an Italian hillside town. Yet the town is sprawling– from what we saw it does extend a great deal- wraps its cobbled streets and meandering paths around a lake, zig-zagedly up a hillside and across the other side (I’m talking of Brunate and the other villages that share Lake Como). Its colours are Gold and Amber and on a warm Autumn day it was like an Italian Tourist Board dream. Stepping off the train from Milan at 12 noon the bells of all the nearby churche bells began to rang, a grand Duomo poked out from behind a large pillared hall, around another corner an ancient and decrepit church tower, there’s a Funicular railway up into the hills and a ferry service over to the outlying parts of town- Como is a dream.

     

Milan itself isn’t half as ‘Commercial’, ‘Busy’ or ‘Dull’ as many had made it out to be. I found the city a laid-back and quite a fine place for wandering (which is my favourite form of transport). We didn’t decide on any itinerary and most of the major tourist hot-spots were found fairly randomly round corners or behind massive bill-board advertisements for Gucci, D&G and (fairly bemused- expecting the exotic and unknown) H&M. One highlight I certainly couldn’t forsee, even after Michael Palin’s enthusiasm for the place, was Statzione Centrale- Milan’s Central Station is enough to make any reformed Train Spotter question the location of his anorak. Our hotel was a 15 minute metro ride from the center and we made a couple of journeys in after dark into town for a nice meal… on our first night we were almost forcibly seated next to an trio of Yorkshire ladies, talking loudly about their exploits in town that day, the waiter – who spotted us right away as silly englishmen asked us if we would like to take a seat ‘mate’. A minute later when we stood up to leave (after billy did his “oh no, what have we done” face and after glancing at the tacky laminated English menu) he wasn’t so chummy.

     

We visited Verona on a overcast day and instantly labeled it “fair(ly decent) Verona”. Unfortunately the train drops you off on the outskirts, in a residential area that we (sadly) explored for an hour or so. It felt like a town you’d really need a guidebook to enjoy- like Cambridge there are some landmark buildings here- some really interesting parts to see that you will completely miss by taking a wrong turning. I didn’t see the amphitheater, I’m not convinced I saw the great bridge– only noticed some archaeological museum on the way to the train. We completely ignored the main square (overridden with students). It would be nice to pop back on a summers day, without the 90 minute train journey from Milan to tire you out.

In summing up I don’t have any grand insights on the Italian way of life- I don’t know if I got close enough, I don’t speak Italian, my phrase book got barley a flick through- we weren’t doing the point and smile – we didn’t stick to the English-speaking restaurants and bars but when I chatted to a young lady photographer in Milan Central I instantly went English and said “excuse me…” A little ashamed. I’m just a Michael Palin impersonator at heart. On the night I arrived home I was on the web searching for the first reasonable flights out there– and downloading some Italian Lessons.

I’m only too aware of what I missed, what is on the list for the next journey to the North or Italy. Venice and the lakes North of that city (which is apparently a disgusting place to drive to as the industrial zone spreads for some miles, clinging to the motorway) the train from Milan is the same one we took to Verona. I’m guessing €25 return. Also the River Pavé and the Redipuglia war memorial, I’d quite like to see the farm country, cycle or walk in the Italian Alps or take a Sunday drive through Turin- in a Mini (well, I did see the Italian Job last weekend).

Back in Blighty, people and cars move so slowly. The Milanese are animated, traffic attendant to young flirt they’re all shrugs and unbelievable facial expressions.

I’m not finished with Italy.