Day 55 Which country are we in?

One of our plans for this trip was to sometimes avoid the quickest way to our destination and to occasionally choose the slower ‘scenic’ route. After experiencing lots of difficulties last week with our well-planned train connections, this week we decided to try a new tactic … little planning but high hopes. Armed only with a map, a Eurail pass and a tentative plan A, (B, C and D were there for back up) we realised before we had even started that this was going to be a day with a degree of difficulty of 9.9.

We began at 6.30 am with a brisk 1.5 km walk to the ferry which may not sound very far, but when you are carrying 13-15 kg on your back and a few more in your daypack it’s quite far enough. The ferry arrived in Como at 7.27am and we knew it would be tight to get the 7.43am train from the station, which was still another 1 km walk mostly up hill from the ferry wharf. We proudly, if not rather exhaustedly, arrived with about 3 minutes to spare only to realise that the train was late and did not actually come until 8.03am.

We left Como (Italy) at 8.03am and arrived at Bellinzona (Switzerland) at 9.00am where we changed trains and left Bellinzona at 9.09am to arrive at Locarno at 9.40am. At Locarno we had an hour or so to kill so we sat beside the exquisite Lake Maggiore. At 10.50am we stepped onto a narrow gauge scenic train known as the F.A.R.T. train (we are not sure why). After chatting with an 86 year old ex WW2 German soldier who tried to convince us to retire as early as possible (who could argue) three small train carriages then took us over the mountains and back into Italy arriving at Domodossola at 12.35pm. We again changed platforms and headed off on an Intercity train via Brigg (Switzerland) arriving in Speiz at 2pm. Again we changed to the other side of the platform and at 2.09pm caught a regional train to Zweisimmen, arriving at 2.56pm. Once again we changed platforms and at 3.05pm we boarded another narrow gauge train known as the Golden Pass, which continued to take us over the Swiss/Italian Alps. We passed by beautiful green hills, pine forests and brown timber chalets which all had the same green shutters, window boxes with geraniums and lacy curtains – wow we were in the Swiss Alps! We passed by humble villages and an exclusive winter ski resort called Gstaad where Liz Taylor and David Niven both own chalets. After an incredible picture postcard descent winding down about 2000 metres we arrived at 5.16pm at the glorious town of Montreux on Lake Geneva . From there we changed to catch the Intercity Express, which departed at 5.19pm and arrived at Geneva at 6.30pm. From there it was (thankfully) just a short walk to our hotel.

Our journey took almost exactly 12 hours door-to-door and included 7 trains, 6 changes, 1 ferry, and 2 long walks with packs. After starting in Italy, then going to Switzerland then back to Italy and then finally back to Switzerland we arrived in Geneva (a city greatly influenced by its next door neighbour, France). At the station we noticed that we were surrounded by hundreds of colourful and noisy football fans, who did not look or sound Swiss, Italian or French. After some confusion wondering what country we were in we soon discovered that the second match of Euro 2008 was scheduled for that night at 8.30pm in Geneva. The teams involve were Turkey and Portugal. You can’t help loving Europe!

Day 54 From James Bond to Maxwell Smart

Our last day in Como was really a holiday. Can life get much richer than breakfast in bed in your own studio apartment as you look out on one of the world’s most beautiful lakes? We had just about run out of food so midmorning we meandered down to the local shops in the neighbouring village of Laglio.

On the way we again passed the house (or should we say campus) that we suspected belonged to George Clooney. As we got there we were thrilled to see a car about to leave and what happened next could have been from a James Bond movie. Firstly the chain in front of the outer gate fell to the ground and into a cavity. Then the outer steel gate with spikes on the top slowly tracked right across a path to reveal matching inner steel spiked gates. Then the inner gates swung inwards and out came a car. We watched as the car came forward… but unfortunately the occupant was not George. After the car left, the gates closed in reverse order; firstly the inner gate swung shut, then the outer gate tracked left and finally the chain that had dropped into a cavity sprung up, taut once again in front of the two matching gates. This time it reminded us of Maxwell Smart.

After all this one thing still troubled us; were we really sure this was George Clooney’s house? We had seen it on the Internet but doubts remained in our minds. We walked on past the gates where we noticed some mail, a package, had been stuffed into another part of the fence. If we had not personally experienced the Italian postal service we might have doubted that mail would be left just stuffed into the fence, but sure enough there it was. We know it’s embarrassing but we looked! The parcel was a couple of CDs mailed from the States. And there upside down, was the clearly scrawled name: George Clooney. (if you don’t believe us click on the photo on Day 52– then either stand on your head or turn your laptop upside down- see!)

Our day and time in Como ended with some more exploring of local villages, a quick trip to Como where Richard had a haircut (actually that story is worthy of another blog) and we returned for dinner at our local risterante.

The ravioli and gnocchi were sensational. The polenta was ordinary and the local fish from the lake was worse than any tinned sardine. Nothing however could spoil our wonderful week at Curate Urio, Como ( just next door to Laglio, where… did we mention it? …George Clooney lives!)

Day 53 Walking back

In about 1913, a young Italian man called Guerinno left his small farming village of Tovo, near the railway town of Tirano, in a deep valley, which led up into the Italian Alps. When he set out he began the adventure of his life. That adventure included a trip to Australia, serving with the Australians at the western front in WW1, trying to discover gold in California, returning to Italy to find a wife, to be married and to have a daughter, then eventually returning to Australia to become a miner in Broken Hill. Later he would bring his wife and daughter to Australia, and then have an Australian born son. Sadly Guerinno died in an accident at an early age on his orchard in Eastwood, NSW. The son, known as John, who died in 2006, was Richard’s father. So Tovo was always going to be a place we wanted to explore on Borntorun 2008.

On the day that we decided to go we had the worst weather in terms of rain since our trip began. The journey took about 4.5 hours; a ferry to Como, a train to Milan, another train to Tirano and finally a local bus to the small village of Tovo di St Agata. What we discovered was very special! The town as we expected, was very small. We enjoyed a cappuccino at the only café. There was a pub, a school and not much else. The houses were quaint, well loved and seemed to be rich in history. Many were surrounded by magnificent vegetable gardens. The church stood at the centre of the village (interestingly with a poster on the door advertising Sydney’s World Catholic Youth Day Celebrations). The valley, though hidden by clouds, was picturesque. Village after village climbed up the valley each with a church and belltower at the centre. We loved standing on a hill outside the village and listening to the bells ring out, down the valley, at midday. The river, fed by the snowmelt from the Alps flowed swiftly and powerfully through the valley where grapes and apples grew like weeds.

As the rain tumbled down we found a newish looking public noticeboard, which displayed a map of local walks and bike rides. We saw that there was a public walkway from Tovo back to Tirano, we guessed the distance to be about 8kms. Despite the persistent downpour we looked at each other and said, “Let’s do it!”.
We found the beginning of the track quite easily and after enjoying a wide asphalt path for a couple of kilometres we came to a road barricade, which we realised, meant that the track was not finished. Unperturbed we followed a foot worn track around the roadblock, which led us along the very edge of the raging mountain stream. After crossing a bridge, the track got narrower and narrower until the track was barely wide enough for a goat. All of a sudden our greatest fears were realised when the track literally came to a dead end – the river! We backtracked a little – found a different path and continued on past a huge and impressive dam to finally arrive at the township of Tirano. We were sure that we had walked more than 8 kms, and even though the whole journey had been in the pouring rain our Gortex jackets had kept out upper bodies dry. We arrived at the station just in time to catch the train home.

We wondered how Geurinno had travelled from Tovo to Tirano when he left on the train bound for Genova at the beginning of last century. In the period before buses maybe he too had walked along a track beside the river from his village. Years later, before he was married, his son John had visited Tovo as well. Maybe he also had walked the path his father had trod.

When you spend your life explaining a weird sounding surname like Quadrio it was comforting to see the name in print on signs around the area as if it was as normal as Smith or Jones.

Day 52 Failing the Jim Roger's test

To keep our backpacks as light as possible we had planned to mail a few things home from time to time - books we had finished, things we had bought, clothes we were not wearing etc. Jim Rogers in his second travel book, Adventure Capitalist comments that a good test to see if a countries systems are in good shape is to mail a parcel home. If this is a simple process then maybe it is a well-run efficient country. If it’s difficult it could be a bad sign. Now to be honest some weeks ago we sent home a parcel from New York and that was more than a little complicated. But nothing could have prepared us for the process involved in sending home a 2.5kg parcel from Como, Italy.

The day before we had stopped at the post office to buy two padded envelopes. We thought that it would be a simple transaction but after 10 minutes we worked out which of 4 different tickets to get from the machine, to put us in the correct queue, and we then waited another 10 minutes for our turn to buy them. When our time arrived we paid the lady who went to another counter on the other side of the room (with our 3 Euro) opened another drawer and put the money in there – it was all a bit odd.

So on Day 52 we arrived back at the post office prepared to actually send our parcels. After getting a ticket we waited about 15 minutes to be served. During this time we filled our two very difficult customs forms, which we guessed would go on the parcels. Then the fun really began. It seemed that sending things back to Australia was not going to be easy. Three post office workers, including one we guessed was the boss started an animated conversation in Italian with lots of hand movements.

The first problem was that the form needed an Italian ID number – which we did not have. More animated discussion followed and the decision was finally made to fill out an alternative longer and more complicated form. They then decided that we would be better off sending one rather than two packages- so we had to go to another counter to buy a box (which was so large we could have sent home half of our belongings). This was getting out of hand!

Once again they changed their minds and the boss lady started filling out the first form for us – with mutual difficulties because of language. Then they decided that they needed to see our passports (which were back at our accommodation). We suggested a driver’s license, which they photocopied but decided it was not good enough. Finally Richard found a photocopy of our passports in his wallet, which they photocopied, and on to which they wrote all of the details from the complicated form.

Things went from bad to worse when they observed that the sender’s phone number on the form was RQ’s mobile number and that was definitely not good enough. “Hotel Number – Hotel Number” we understood in broken Ital-English. “No Hotel – apartment – no number”. More confusion and lots more hand waving. Finally they agreed to put the phone number of the post office on the form. Then they became confused about the identity of the person we were sending the parcel to – a Miss Hannah Quadrio ( our 19 year old daughter at home) . Richard thrilled them with his pathetic Italian by saying “Bambino”. This sent them into another panic as they thought we were sending the parcel to a child. With the help of the three postal workers we settled on some version of “ Adulti”

Finally we got close to the end of the process when the next shock came - the price, 50 euro ($80 AUD). At this point it would have been cheaper to burn the excess gear and replace it when we got home. But more trouble was coming. They only accepted cash and we only had 45 Euro on us. More shouting followed (later we discovered an ATM ten metres away) which resulted in another search of the wallet and the finding of a stray 10 Euro note. (Thank God!) But it was not over yet… they began shouting again and yet another form was produced this time asking for a declaration of the value of the goods.

After nearly 80 minutes someone finally shouted “Finito”. We walked out of the post office mentally exhausted and considerably poorer with little hope that we would ever see the parcel again. Then two other customers came running out of the post office towards us waving hands and saying something in Italian that led us to believe we needed to go back.

We had forgotten our receipt!

Day 51 The things people grad hold of

Milan is about an hour from Como and is regarded as the finance capital of Italy and indeed the fashion capital of the world. With a reputation like that we decided it was worth a visit. After a 35 minute ferry ride up Lake Como, a 45 minute intercity train trip and then a 6 minute local train ride we arrived at the Piazza del Duomo in the centre of Milan. We spent the day looking at the sights and checking out the shops.

Sadly we missed out on seeing Leonardo da Vinci’s painting The Last Supper, as you had to book well in advance or pay an outrageous tour fee to see the great masterpiece. We did however visit the famous Duomo Cathedral. This building is the largest gothic cathedral in Europe. It was started in 1386 and took over 600 years to build. It has 135 spires, 155 gargoyles and 3400 statues. It was, to say the least, impressive. To be honest we are not the greatest fans of this sort of building but one of the doors on the outside caused us the greatest interest.

The front doors which are probably 10 metres wide and 15 metres high are decorated with a huge bronze sculpture This beautiful sculpture vividly portrays story after story from the life and passion of Jesus. It was not surprising that tourists would want to pose in front of the door, as they pose in front of everything else in Europe. However what really surprised us was that most tourists wanted to pose while actually holding part the sculpture. It was as if they were grabbing hold of God and saying “Look Mum here I am holding onto the God statue at the church!” In fact the part that most people held was a different colour from the rest of the sculpture as the constant rubbing of thousands of hands had polished the bronze to a shiny finish. What was really odd, was the part of the sculpture that the crowds grabbed was a picture of Jesus being viciously whipped by a Roman guard.
It seemed to us that it was an obvious metaphor of all that goes wrong in the world. So easily we grab the crass, the cheap, the foolish or the popular often completely unaware that we have unwittingly grabbed hold of the ‘evil one’s’ leg.

Day 50 Skipping stones like George

On Day 50 we headed north up the lake on a local ferry to the famous tourist town of Belaggio. On the 90 minute scenic journey we passed many beautiful villages and a number of completely over the top mansions. One of the grandest was the new holiday home of Richard Branson where he is rumoured to have spent 16 million Euro. We wondered which of these huge mansions belonged to Lake Como’s most famous resident George Clooney. We arrived in Belaggio and to be honest were a little disappointed by what we firstly encountered. Unlike the part of the lake where we are staying, where the locals nonchalantly fish off a local wall, Bellagio is a tourist Mecca filled with international hotels and tourist shops. Again we realised that the tourist hubs have less appeal to us than the sounds and smells of local communities.

We climbed up over the hill, away from the crowds and discovered a charming little boat ramp between two high walls that gave us our own private access to the lake. Richard followed his regular custom of trying to regain his youth by skipping stones across the glassy surface of the lake.

Later in the day, after checking emails, we discovered that George’s house is nowhere near the tourist haven of Bellagio but is actually in the village of Laglio, which is next door to Curate Urio and just a hundred metres from where we are staying. We had passed this house on several occasions during our late afternoon walks and had wondered about its tight security, high walls, dense peripheral vegetation, steel gates and electronic monitoring. Ironically fortune and fame seems to deliver less freedom than we are experiencing as budget backpackers who have to do their washing every night in the bathroom basin.

And you will never guess what we also saw on a website - a picture of George Clooney also skipping stones on the lake.

Day 49 A holiday on an adventure

If you browse the travel section at a bookshop you will discover the phrase ‘adventure holidays’. Normally this is a term that is confined to the sort of travel you can have in your twenties which often includes activities like white water rafting and bungy jumping. However we are of the view that travelling for all the ages can be full of adventure. A few years ago some good friends of ours, made a suggestion to us that we would describe not as an adventure holiday, but as a holiday on an adventure. Let us explain.

Whilst travelling for 13 weeks the routine of packing up and moving every few days can become exhausting, so we had the idea to have a ‘holiday’ during our long adventure. This week we are staying in a studio apartment overlooking Lake Como in Northern Italy where we will, to some extent, relax and take it easy. However the reality often doesn’t match the theory, and even on a restful holiday we will no doubt have lots of adventures, but the idea of having ‘our own place’ for a whole week is quite enticing.

So on Day 49, the first day of our ‘holiday’, we enjoyed a sleep-in as we began to absorb the sights, sounds and feel of this beautiful place. It is almost impossible to describe the gentle sound of the water lapping at the edge of the lake just below our window, or the coolness of the light breeze as it drifts in through the open French doors or the melodious sound of the church bells as they ring out from one village to another across the lake. The lake made famous by many James Bond movies is much quieter and more peaceful than we had imagined.

Later in the morning we walked down the road for about 1.5 km to a wharf where we boarded our chauffeured launch for the week (known better as the local ferry) and headed for the township of Como to buy some supplies. Shopping in non-English speaking countries continues to be an interesting challenge. We bought some gnocchi in a local shop and nearly ended up with 4 kilos instead of 400 grams. We bought wonderful local ham, fresh ravioli, cheese, cold sliced roast beef and our favourite, fresh parmisan cheese. After the usual search we eventually found ‘normal’ fresh milk and healthy muesli. After spending about 40 Euros on supplies we were just about set up for the whole week. We may not even