A house of small surfaces with resonable costs, targeted to an audience searching for concrete and innovative solutions. The quality of a space does not depend on the dimensions and design furniture does not necessarily imply a budget for a few. The Poliform house is based on a simple architectural project, in which kitchen, bedroom and bathroom become a whole with the living area that overlooks the terrace. The fulcrum of the project is represented by the completeness of the furnishing project: day zone, kitchen, bed and elements for the night zone were carefully selected from Poliform and Varenna collections. Each choise, each detail is the result of a deep functional analysis. But our private world also needs some beauty. That is why the stylistic aspect has not been missed out: the Poliform house has been created with the contribution of designers like Marcel Wanders, Paola Navone, Roberto Barbieri and Carlo Colombo. This initiative reverses common preconceives and becomes an example of a responsible and accessible conception of interior design.

Via & more: My Life in 80MQ

So the best way that I can possibly show people how I put these trips together is to let everyone see the planning process from beginning to end. Everyone around me knows that I am itching to backpack again and so planning on one trip has begun. I am still trying to figure out a fall trip and a new year’s adventure for this year, so stay tuned. But if people are willing to go, then I am not going to pass up the opportunity to plan. Here is the start of Backpacking 2010:

An e-mail:

newtravlr and crzybeautifullife,

So I am itching to backpack as you both know. newtravlr and I came up with the idea to backpack for about 10 days over memorial day weekend in 2010. Tentative dates that I came up with are May 26th – June 3rd which would end us up with 7 days from work. These are odd dates should any of us choose to play airport roulette and non-rev. However, if we bite the bullet and purchase our tickets, we could go from May 28th – Sunday June 6th. Assuming that we take evening flights to arrive the morning of the 29th then we would technically only miss 4 days of work (unless we are all jet lagged and choose to take off Monday the 7th).

The itinerary needs some work. The crazy plan that I drew on a napkin at the amazing creperie in Geneva seems to be more of a pipe dream that would ideally need to be spread out over 2 1/2 weeks, not 10 days.

Originally, I had wanted to start in Barcelona partying all night on Las Ramblas and take the overnight train (drunkenly of course) to Bordeaux country and drink our way through a vineyard (one that is actually open crzybeautifullife, not like Rivaz) and take another night train to Geneva (day trip to Mont Blanc), then head over to Zermatt and finally see the Matterhorm, train to to Lake Como and spend the weekend playing rich, and then end up in Milan with empty backpacks, shop and head home.

*sigh*

But, alas, the train network between these cities resembles more of a MARTA set up than the convenient direct route paths we have become accustomed to. Bordeaux is entirely out of the way for us – so I picked Marseilles on the French Riviera (although I am a bit burnt out on the Riviera as a whole) and then stopping over in Geneva. The problem is that it will take us a good 5 hours to get from  Barcelona to Marseilles and we can’t even sleep b/c we will have to change trains. Also, it will take us about 4 hours to get from Marseilles to Geneva because there are apparently these things called mountains that we have to go around. Same deal with Geneva to Zermatt (which we learned last year after studying the maps for hours) but Zermatt is definitely worth it. Lake Como will be amazing and we need to either stay at Bellagio, Menaggio, or Varenna (all actoss the lake from one another) and there is no direct train route, Milan is easy to get to from the lake.

I am not happy with this itinerary. Let’s get creative. The world is open for possibilities. So go to Google maps and play.

the shrewd wanderer

A balcony view of Lago di Como, from the hotel Albergo Milano in Varenna Italy

Lake Como in northern Italy is fabulous.  Our hotel, Albergo Milano,  in Varenna was warm and charming, and recommended by Rick Steves.  This was in 2001.  Ask for a “frontal” lake room.  They serve meals on a large terrace.  You can take hydrofoil boats that go from town to town on the lake, getting on and off wherever you want.   Great place.  The hotel’s website is http://www.varenna.net/.  Since “Rooms With Great Views” is a TEST site, and we don’t have all the bells and whistles working yet, make your comments below, but send your photos via an email attachment  to roomswithgreatviews@triad.rr.com.

Contributed by Bill and Sherry (http://www.learn-spanish-travel-spanish.com/).

Fragmento de una historia que comencé a escribir en el 2004 y nunca terminé. No tenía título aún, pero este capítulo se llamaba El Castillo y me gusta por el encuentro entre dos de los personajes centrales de mis historias vampíricas.

– Bien, te tomaste esto en serio – dijo la cazadora hablándole al jefe de los monstruos –. Aunque algo predecible. La verdad, esperaba algo más valiente, como una pelea entre tú y yo.

– Hubieras podido tener esa pelea si hubieras venido antes – le respondió él –. Pero ahora estoy ocupado y no tengo tiempo. Así que dejaré que mis chicos se encarguen de ti mientras me ocupo de mis asuntos.

Dicho esto se dio vuelta y dando un impresionante salto subió los últimos escalones y cruzó una puerta. En cuanto la puerta se cerró detrás de él, los vampiros comenzaron su ataque. Los más cercanos se lanzaron sobre ella y Varenna empuñó el hacha. Dando un giro un par de cabezas cayeron y sus cuerpos se hicieron polvo. En menos de un segundo tenía una docena más encima así que separó su estaca del extremo del hacha y comenzó a luchar con las dos manos. Varios vampiros más cayeron antes de que pudieran arrebatarle el hacha. Esta cayó en el otro extremo de la sala, pero Varenna sacó su daga y siguió arrojando estocadas, giros, vueltas, cortes y golpes a sus contrincantes. Los vampiros trataban de atraparla y golpearla pero se movía muy rápido. Cualquier cazavampiros sin su experiencia no hubiera durado ni dos segundos en una batalla tan despareja, pero Varenna, con solo veinticinco años, sabía más sobre la lucha contra vampiros que nadie. No había que dejar que llegaran a su cuello, ni siquiera debían tocar su garganta o estaría perdida, y en cuanto alguno pudiera poner una sola mano sobre ella, se le partiría algún hueso. Había que ser más veloz que ellos y no tener piedad ni cuidado en los golpes, dándolos además en los puntos clave que, si no mataban a la criatura, al menos la mantendrían dolorida o alejada por un momento. Varenna, al verse rodeada por los vampiros -de los cuales habían quedado dieciséis o diecisiete-, saltó por encima de ellos y, antes de que pudieran tocarla, dio una vuelta en el aire y cayó parada fuera del círculo de vampiros. Entonces, dos puertas a los lados del vestíbulo se abrieron. Corriendo y atropellándose entre ellos, entraron aún más vampiros, más de los que Varenna llegó a contar. La cazadora buscó a su alrededor un hueco en la masa de monstruos, un lugar por donde escapar, pero sin éxito. Estaba completamente rodeada, atrapada… perdida.

En ese momento una de las ventanas que daban al exterior, al frente del castillo estalló en miles de minúsculos fragmentos de vidrio, mientras un enorme tronco entraba arrojado desde el exterior. El gran tronco cayó sobre el flanco izquierdo del ejército de vampiros, desarmando sus filas y haciendo retroceder a muchos. Varenna podría haber escapado corriendo en esa dirección y saltando fuera por la ventana pero se dio cuenta que los vampiros la seguirían, probablemente hasta la ciudad. No, debía mantener a los vampiros allí adentro hasta que supiera qué hacer con ellos. Pero la cuestión ahora era ¿Quién había arrojado el tronco por la ventana? ¿Quién podía tener la fuerza como para usar algo tan grande como proyectil? La respuesta no se hizo esperar apareciendo frente al hueco de la ventana rota. Un hombre vestido con una gabardina negra que se agitaba con el viento, con todas sus vestiduras negras también, de pelo oscuro y una corta barba desprolija. Varenna ya lo conocía, tantas veces lo había visto y se había preguntado por qué, por qué era tan diferente a los demás de su especie.

– Sebastian… – susurró.

Eso es todo por hoy, más adelante puede que comparta más relatos.

Quel braccio teso del neo ministro Vittoria Michela Brambilla, alzato durante la festa dell’Arma dei Carabinieri lo scorso 5 giugno, i militanti dell’Anpi di Lecco non l’hanno proprio gradito. E ora chiedono giustizia o quantomeno chiarezza. La Brambilla infatti, mentre partecipava a Lecco, sua terra d’origine, alla cerimonia pubblica si era lasciata scappare un saluto con un braccio troppo alzato al termine dell’Inno di Mameli. Un saluto che non era certo passato inosservato, facendo subito scoppiare la polemica. 
Il neoministro si era difeso, liquidando la questione con le solite “strumentalizzazioni politiche della sinistra impegnata a discutere sulla distensione del mio braccio in mancanza di argomenti seri”.
Così l’associazione degli ex partigiani di Lecco si è dichiarata pronta a depositare in Procura un esposto contro il neoministro del Turismo per verificare se il comportamento della Brambilla costituisca una violazione della legge Scelba e della successiva legge Mancino che sanzionano l’apologia del fascismo.
«Non vogliamo che questo caso diventi una montatura – ha spiegato il presidente provinciale dell’Anpi Giancarla Pessina, 79 anni – ma riteniamo che non fosse proprio il caso di turbare una manifestazione come la festa dei carabinieri con un gesto così eclatante. Giusto allora che sia la Magistratura a verificare la portata di questo atteggiamento».
Ieri, intanto un gruppo di ex partigiani ha manifestato a Calolziocorte, nel lecchese, davanti all’azienda della famiglia del ministro, la «Trafilerie Brambilla, esponendo le gigantografie del saluto romano della Brambilla pubblicate per la prima volta dalla Gazzetta di Lecco. «Già durante la campagna elettorale – ha aggiunto Pessina – a Varenna il ministro ebbe un comportamento simile: noi ci aspetteremmo delle scuse o quanto meno una giustificazione credibile. Un ministro dovrebbe rispettare i valori della costituzione sulla quale ha giurato».

Ecco il video diffuso su youtube che ritrae il Ministro Brambilla con il braccio teso al termine dell’inno di Mameli.

If my title brings to mind the 1964 film directed by Vittorio De Sica, based on the Edoardo de Filippo play Filumena Marturano, starring everyone, including Sofia Loren, and Marcello Mastroianni, then, congratulations on your knowledge of Italian movies. However, right now, I am not talking about the fictitious goings-on. This is non-fiction all the way down the line. Since it is based on personal experience.

Let’s just say right now that, Mike and I are not the experts. If you want to know how getting married in Italy is done properly, there’s all sorts of information on the net. We found a great site that included a fantastically-useful set of checklists, of what to do, starting from two years before D-Day. We used the last one, which covered what to do in the last six months. Not that we spent six months planning our wedding, you understand. It’s just that there wasn’t a “planning a wedding in four weeks” checklist. I guess what follows is going to be the next nearest equivalent.

Why so short a time? Well, I guess the simple answer is that neither of us could see much point in hanging about. This is what we did.

Since I am a British citizen and was resident in Milan, I needed a document from the British Consulate in Milan stating that there was no reason why I should not marry my beloved. Said document, in Italian is called a nulla osta. Getting it involved a 23-day posting of the Notice of Marriage in the Consulate itself at 6. Via San Paolo. For the purposes of this, I had to produce an original of my birth certificate. Since this hallowed document was issued more than half-a-century ago, it was hardly surprising that I did not have it about my person. No prob. I ordered a copy online from the British Government Records Office website on the Friday, and it was with me by Tuesday — by mail. Excellent service.

So I would suggest that, if you plan to marry in Italy, you get in touch with your consulate to find out what is needed. In our case, although Mike, my intended at the time, and my husband now, is American, he did not need to go through any similar procedure at the US consulate, because he became an Italian citizen through his previous marriage.

My twenty-three days having expired on May 22, and no-one having found any hindrance, impediment, or otherwise, to our proposed scheme to tie the knot, I collected my nulla osta, and we were able to move on to the next step: the pubblicazione, or the posting of the banns. These have to be displayed for eight (calendar) days, after which another four (calendar) days have to elapse. (Don’t ask. I didn’t.) The pubblicazione process is done at the town hall of the comune of residence of the two people in question. If you are both residenti in the same municipality, then the process is straightforward. If you are not, then you do it at one of the two comuni. Your choice. That comune, and specifically the Ufficio Demografico in the shape of the Ufficiale dello Stato Civile then communicates the necessary details to his/her counterpart. We opted for Mike’s comune, since it is small (Induno Olona in the province of Varese), as opposed to mine: Milan.

In our case, we got another town hall involved. Not because, as an investigative reporter, I wanted to check the efficiency and effectiveness of local authority employees. (In fact, all of them were exceptionally efficient, as it turns out, except for one small glitch but I will tell you about that later). No, the reason was that we wanted to get married neither in Induno nor in Milan. But in yet another municipality. Which is one’s right, as per Article 109 of the Codice Civile, and Article 67 of something called the Nuovo Regolamento dello Stato Civile. In real terms, this means that the comune handling your paperwork also handles a request to the comune where you wish to marry, asking them carry out the ceremony on their behalf (per delega). Having considered Varenna on Lake Como, our choice had fallen to Cernobbio, also on Lake Como, a place where I had spent time in another life, and which was a lot closer.

The Ufficio Demografico at Cernobbio town hall could not have been more helpful. They can do weddings any morning of the week, and Thursday afternoons too, they told us. However, when we went to visit, we found there was a lot more traffic than we had expected, i.e., the town seemed to consist of one long line of cars with the lake on one side and the town hall on the other. Which is as to be expected since you have to go straight through the middle of town to get from Como to anywhere else on the western lakeshore. It’s just that there seemed to be too much of one (traffic) and not enough of the other (town).

Disappointed, we decided to add to the congestion and drive eight kilometers (five miles) further on, to Moltrasio. Which is something completely different. In more ways than one. Set on a hillside, the town is tiny, just 1,640 inhabitants. Although getting about means climbing steep steps, the place is virtually traffic-free. The new road (well, it’s been there many years but it’s called that because it was built in the 20th century) that takes the bulk of traffic is above, while the old road that hugs the lake-side is below. Located half-way up the hillside, the town hall affords an excellent view of the lake, and of Torno, the town on the opposite shore. That was the positive difference. The negative difference was that, compared to Cernobbio’s welcome, Moltrasio’s initial response was distinctly luke-warm. This all changed after we had had a few exchanges on the phone, and a face-to-face meeting, and we produced the necessary documentation. It had all seemed a bit daunting to them: a British woman marrying an American widower with two children. There was also another problem, though. The mayor (il sindaco) was scheduled to go on vacation on July 7, so it all had to be done before then. OK, so we wanted to get married asap, but this seemed almost like too much of a good thing! Anyway, from Induno, Angelina produced all the necessary documents for Oriella, in Moltrasio, in the right order, and we got our date: Thursday, June 29, 2006.

Which is where the one glitch I mentioned earlier came into play. Everything had run so smoothly that when, on the morning of Tuesday June 20, I sailed into Angelina’s office at comune the Induno to get the document (delega), which we were to take to Moltrasio and deliver by hand on the following day – giving us a whole week for the people there to complete the wedding document (atto di matrimonio) — I was not too worried when I heard that Milan had not returned their set of the documents. A call to the office in the Milan town hall that handles the banns when they have run their course (ufficio avvenute pubblicazioni) revealed that the papers were on their way. By fax, in the next few minutes. When they arrived, the awful truth dawned. Milan — the super-efficient, extra-effective city, the place where things get done, the city that never sleeps, and all that stuff — had, taken ten whole days to get the piece of paper from the incoming fax machine to the all-important bulletin board. In effect, when Induno was taking down its copy of the notice, Milan was still not ready to post its. Lack of notice-board space? Lack of push-pins? Whatever, it meant that, since four (calendar) days had to elapse between the taking down of the notice and the date of the abovementioned delega, this could not be produced before Friday June 23! Less than a week. Here again, the officials involved were more than helpful. Moltrasio agreed to accept the document by fax, even if they did insist on seeing the original before the wedding day. So, on the Monday afternoon we raced the thirty kilometers (20 miles) to Moltrasio, handed over a piece of paper, and raced thirty kilometers back to Induno.

At this point, things were coming together. The wedding dress had been bought in Como, the wedding rings came from Calvin Klein in Milan, and the wedding reception was booked at the delightful Orso Bruno restaurant (www.hotelorsobruno.com) at Carate Urio, the next village along from Moltrasio. This is on the lower, lake-shore, road that leads to Laglio, and then joins back up to the main road to Menaggio and points north.

And the day itself? I am glad you asked. It was wonderful, although the beginnings were less than auspicious. After days of tremendous heat, during which we hoped for some rain, we woke on Thursday morning – in late-June, in sunny Italy — to find that our wish had been granted! Rain, by the bucket-load, blustery winds to sweep you off your feet. Mike had to drive me to the hairdressers — and back, otherwise all their work would have been for nought. On the way home, we drove to a shoe shop where, the previous week, I had bought a pair of open-toed sandals, that suddenly seemed most unsuited to wedding wear. I had also tried some ballerina slippers that day. We raced in, grabbed them, paid and raced home.

As we got back to the house, Margherita, Mike’s witness arrived with her son. Alex and Nick, Mike’s sons, were unrelenting rain and high winds.

Andy, my old friend and witness, messaged to say he was already in Moltrasio, having come from Milan by train and ferry-boat, and having had a wet walk up to the Bar Centrale, right next to the town hall, which was our rendezvous point. It rained and rained, until we got to just outside Como and saw – blue skies. By the time we got to Moltrasio, it had stopped. I raced into the bar – it was now 11.40, and the ceremony was scheduled to start at noon. Flung my dress on, added the new shoes, which looked great, and – with everyone present – ambled down to the comune. Up to the council chamber. The sun by this time was out and the views of the lake were stunning. Like none of that other weather had every happened at all. It was now 12.10 or so. All very calm. Oriella, the admin woman greeted us. Since the mayor (sindaco) was busy, the wedding was to be conducted by the deputy mayor (vice-sindaco). He turned up and more introductions took place. By about 12.25, we were all ready. The ceremony took about 10 mins. We signed. So did the witnesses. It was done. Photos, kisses, hand-shakes, and then out onto the courtyard in front of the comune to get more pics with the lake in the background. Lovely breeze, against a brilliant blue sky.

Then on to the restaurant. Which is on the first floor, overlooking the lake. Lunch was lovely. Among the delights were a delicious risotto with lake perch (pesce persico), which was tangy with sage. Everyone had grilled sword fish, while the dessert options included a delectable woodland berry (frutti di bosco) mousse. We drank prosecco and a wonderful time was had by all. Daniele, the owner, came out to chat. Eventually, about 15.30, we repaired to the terrace of the bar on the ground floor. After some drinks, and photos, it was time for everyone to leave. Andy, from Milan, took the regular ferry from Moltrasio back to Como, a twenty-minute ride, and then the train. The rest went by car. We stayed, driving up, via Tremezzo, and Menaggio, to Dongo and then to Gravedona, which is almost the northern end of Lake Como and where the landscape is quite different. Lots of campers, lots of cyclists, people there for the hiking, as opposed to the gentle amble with an ice-cream cone (gelato da passeggio) along the lake-shore promenade.

And that’s about it. Would we recommend it? Yes! Although in normal circumstances, dealing with the Italian bureaucracy can be daunting, in this case it was not. Everyone was terrific, and did their utmost to make sure we had a lovely day. Would we do it again? Can’t wait! With all the same people, of course!

A slightly different version of this piece appeared in the August 2006 issue of Hello Milano magazine

One week from now, I’ll be waking up in Guanajuato, Mexico — giddy, disoriented a bit, and searching for some breakfast. This trip has stalked up on us, and I have to plead that I’m feeling unprepared. Normally, the annual international trip is something I obsess over for months. Guide books lie scattered around the house; my “next trip” bookmarks folder swells to 60, 70, 80 bookmarks; doodles at work evolve from fighter jets and muscle cars to the rough outline of the country on my mind.

This morning I’m up before Hailey, which means I have a pot of coffee to work on and some color correcting to do for a client (in this case, Tim and Lexi — hey guys, your photos are now ready!). But I started thinking about travel and coffee and the moments where the two have collided beautifully. Travel tends to be an exercise of the senses. Obviously, sight + photography, but also sound + music (I’m working on a special Mexico playlist right now), flavor + food (just discovered they put molé on eggs in Guanajuato — yes!) and its cousin flavor + drink. In cases of this last pairing, I’m usually seeking out the holy trinity of liquids: wine, beer or coffee.

This morning, I’m compelled to write about coffee, and the best cups I ever did have. Warning: this is a self-indulgent exercise, but then again, so is blogging, right?

1. Italy (where to begin) – This cup starts in Varenna and has traversed the entire Boot wherever we’ve gone: the cappuccino. I had my first real one on Lake Como, and it was the first of many introductions to the beautiful details of Italian flavor. Enough espresso for every sip, a bold yet smooth flavor, and milk fading steadily into foam at the top. We can’t make these in America, at least not that I’ve found. In Seattle, they’re close, but as with many things and travel, its goodness is amplified by the setting. The cappuccino pictured above was our first in last year’s trip — served over breakfast at the Hotel Minervetta in Sorrento. When paired with a view of Vesuvius over the Bay of Naples, breakfast became less an exercise in sustanance, and more an exercise in realization — you are a long way from home, and its all good.


2. The Palms Cliff House, Big Island, Hawaii – Hailey and I honeymooned on the Big Island and Maui, and our first five nights were spent at this magnificent bed and breakfast on the wet coast north of Hilo. The amazing breakfasts were served on the lanai, accompanied by a hot cup of Kona. Mornings were always the right temperature. Pods of rain would splash the cliff-lined coast, cool things 5 degrees and cast a rainbow for 60 seconds, before moving on. The best cups of drip coffee I’ve had were on that porch, newly married, looking forward to everything.

3. Stella’s Cafe, Monteverde, Costa Rica – Here’s the magic formula of Stella’s: 1.) It’s backyard is the famous cloud forest of Monteverde, 2.) it’s patio featured an assortment of uber-comfy chairs, 3.) it’s local resident was an affectionate cat who had a penchant for sitting on your lap and purring, and 4.) they served mild shade-grown Costa Rican coffees. On top of all of that, our good friends Will and Liz were living up the road at a biology research center, meaning this was the place to meet up. On our first morning, we met a birdwatching guide here, and we hardly had to leave to see some of the area’s most magnificent birds. Across the street was a flock of golden-browed chlorophonias and a blue-crowned motmot perched nearby. Be sure to click the links to these birds — some of the craziest wildlife I’ve seen.

Unfortunately, this trip was a long time ago during my Nikon FM days — meaning I only have 4×6 prints of the trip, and crummy ones at that.

4. Seattle – If you love coffee and you’ve been to Seattle, you just can’t leave it off your list. I’ve been a handful of times, but on this last trip in November, I finally “got it” when it comes to this city’s coffee culture. That’s because it rained the whole freaking time, and without fail, there was always a coffee shop to duck into. Tops on my list wasn’t even a cafe: Macrina Bakery. It was one of those places where they specialize in one thing (incredible baked goods) and just so happen to know how to make cappuccinos like the Italians do. Bonus.

5. The Lodge at Chaa Creek, Belize – My final selection is another trip from the Nikon FM days. This memory is flavored by the sweetness of morning ritual. Every day, the routine was such: wake up at sunrise (courtesy of the chachalacas in the tree over our hut), walk onto the porch, lie in the hammock, listen to the rainforest wake up, and enjoy the rich coffee they delivered to our room. Next door to us were my Mom and Dad, they’re first tropical rainforest/ecolodge/birdwatching/coffee-drinking experience. There was a small and ornery ferruginous pygmy-owl who was nesting in a hollowed-out tree above our porch. While drinking our morning cup of Joe, we’d watch her chase the iguanas off the tree. On our final morning, she killed a hummingbird and feasted on it while we discussed breakfast. Of all the collisions of experience that travel brings, file that one under Strange Yet Sweet.

So here’s a heads up: I’m hoping to blog from Mexico next week. We leave Friday and return the Monday after Easter. We’ll see how the internet connection is at the two places we’re staying, but hopefully we’ll be able to chronicle our journey through Holy Week nightly. Looking forward to it.

villa Cipressi

On our first trip to Italy after moving to Europe, we were happy to leave the cold and rainy Bavarian April weather behind to feel the warmth of the south as we crossed the Alps. When we arrived late in the evening in the small fishing village of Varenna on Lake Como it was too dark to see the sycamores in the village square just leafing out. As we dragged our luggage over thousands of cobblestones and up the famous stairs of Varenna we found our tiny apartment overlooking the lake.   We couldn’t have picked a better place to stay as the location allowed us to explore the entire region on foot, by ferry, and by train to Milan.

Two of the highlights for me were Varenna’s subtropical gardens; Villa Cipressi and Villa Monastero. The villa Cipressi (now a hotel)  has terraced gardens down to the lake which one can enter for a small fee.

Besides the blooming wisteria  there was so much beauty and mystery to be found in this garden. With the view of lake Como below, it is a magical place and well worth a visit for adults and children alike. 

(roll-over the images below to read their descriptions)

About six or seven months ago, we were contacted by a graphic design agency in Italy. They were doing the official guide book to the town of Varenna and saw an image of ours on Flickr that fit the bill for their cover. Often times, agencies (whether they’re interactive, advertising or publishing agencies) offer the ol’ “hey, we’ll give you a photo credit” bit, especially those that troll Flickr looking for just the right image. Why do they do it? Because people fall for it.

This firm did the same, and Hailey (who took the call, and who took the photo they were interested in) negotiated to sell it royalty free. That’s my girl.

Seeing the Varenna class this week reminder her that she had not seen the end result yet, so she emailed them yesterday and we got a PDF of it overnight. Looks pretty cool.

Hailey and I are in the midst of calculating whether we can afford an international getaway of some kind this year. I’ve kept my job (things look promising in that regard) and her business is doing well, but nonetheless, it still feels different this year with the economy so crummy and who-knows-what around the corner.

We think we’ve settled on a plan, and we’re just waiting word from a potential gig for her before we book, but in the midst of this I saw a Facebook ad that literally screamed opportunity to me: On Location Workshop – Photography Class in Varenna, Italy.

First off, Varenna is a very special spot for me and Hailey. We stopped there in May 2005 to recover from jetlag after my first trans-Atlantic flight and we were immediately seduced. It’s a compact little work of art that’s nestled on a bump in the shoreline on Lake Como. Flowers drip from the buildings, Italians laze on the shore doing nothing, and the Lake Como ferries ease into the dock every 15 minutes with the bored conductor beautifully droning the boat’s destinations on a loud speaker: “Bel-LA-GI-o, Men-AH-gi-O.” Even boredom is musical in Italy.

Most significantly to me, I believe that Varenna is the place where Photography snuck up and did a bodyslam on Writing as my top passion. They had been wrestling since high school, and I’d become an editor by trade, but downloading images onto the laptop at night began to take on more meaning than my faltering, rambling journal entries. I can only imagine what results I’d get shooting Varenna now, four years later and a whole hell of a lot better at photography (plus, with a better camera and better lenses).

What’s more, running simultaneously to the class I’m interested in is one taught by a photographer I greatly admire — Vincent Laforet. Laforet has sick talent. If I haven’t sent you to his portfolio site or blog just yet, please check it out. His images of Katrina and Pakistan are heartbreaking, eye-opening and they’re not easy to shake. Same goes for his work on the Paniolo Cowboys, but in a very different, less visceral way.

Anyhow, I currently don’t have interest in learning video, which is the course he’s teaching, but I’d love to meet him. Problem is, the course is a few thousand bucks when all is said and done, and I just don’t think it’ll happen. Nonetheless, it’s amazing when things like this converge and they get you thinking….

Como
Bellagio
Varenna
Mandello del Lario
Lecco
Milano

Μετά από κάμποσα κρουασάν, δύο μεγάλα κομμάτια πίτα, ένα γιαούρτι και δυο αμαρέττι για το δρόμο, Ο Γιώργος παρέδωσε το δωμάτιο και βγήκε στο πρωινό, χειμωνιάτικο Como. Με ένα χάρτη της πόλης ανά χείρας και το πιστό του backpack στην πλάτη, έκανε μια βόλτα στους άδειους δρόμους και κατέβηκε στο λιμάνι. Εκεί έβγαλε εισητήριο και επιβιβάστηκε στο πλοίο για το Bellagio, το χωριό στον κεντρικό μυχό της λίμνης.

(Σε αυτό το σημείο, θα ήθελα να ευχαριστήσω τους χάρτες της Google Maps που με βοηθούν στην αναπαράσταση των διαδρομών, αλλά και να τους επισημάνω την πρώτη τους ανακρίβεια που έτυχε να συναντήσω, όσον αφορά την Ευρώπη τουλάχιστον. Η διαδρομή Como – Bellagio δε γίνεται μονάχα οδικώς, αλλά και με πλοίο.)

Η λίμνη, γαλάζιος καθρέπτης στις όχθες των Άλπεων, είναι μαγευτική – το ίδιο και η διαδρομή. Το Bellagio, ωστόσο, ακόμα πιο έρημο από το Como, μοιάζει με νεκρή πόλη. Ίσως τα μέρη αυτά να είναι πιο ζωντανά την άνοιξη, σκέφτεται ο Γιώργος, και ξαναπαίρνει το καραβάκι με προορισμό τη Varenna αυτή τη φορά, στην αντίπερα όχθη.

Από εκεί και με το εισιτήριο του InterRail ανά χείρας, επιβιβάζεται στο τρένο και κατεβαίνει στο Mandello del Lario, όπου και αράζει για μερικές ώρες. Το πάρκο της πόλης είναι εκπληκτικό και συναγωνίζεται αντάξια την απερίγραπτη θέα. Οι φωτογραφίες μιλούν από μόνες τους – και ως συνήθως δεν καταφέρνουν να πουν ούτε τα μισά.

Κουρασμένος και ενώ το φως της μέρας έχει αρχίσει να χάνεται, ο Γιώργος επιστρέφει στο σταθμό και επιβιβάζεται στο τρένο για Lecco. Εκεί προλαβαίνει την ανταπόκριση για Μιλάνο και σε λίγες ώρες είναι και πάλι στην ιταλική μεγαλούπολη.

Η κατάρα όμως καλά κρατεί! Αφού έκανε 3-4 φορές τον κύκλο γύρω από τη διεύθυνση που αναζητούσε και την οποία κανένας περαστικός δε φάνηκε να γνωρίζει, βρέθηκε για άλλη μια φορά σε ένα hostel χωρίς ελεύθερα δωμάτια. Βρίζοντας την τύχη του και τα Χριστούγεννα (φάτνες κλπκλπ) και αποφασισμένος να κλείνει beforehand από δω και πέρα για την κάθε επόμενη πόλη, παρακάλεσε τον, ευτυχώς ευγενέστατο, υπάλληλο να του βρει κάπου αλλού να μείνει.

Έτσι, μετά από δύο ακόμη λεωφορεία και 20 λεπτά περπάτημα, η νύχτα τον βρίσκει στο Hotel Amerika, ένα ξενοδοχείο φτηνό, αλλά αρκετά μέτριο ώστε να μην το προτείνει σε κανέναν, όπου γνωρίζει τον αμερικανό Ean που σπουδάζει ηθοποιός στο Λονδίνο και τη γλυκιά  Ξένια από τη Λευκορωσία, που γυρίζει την Ευρώπη χωρίς φόβο και με κάθε πάθος 

Η επόμενη μέρα ξημερώνει στο Μιλάνο και η συνέχεια στο επόμενο μας ποστ – μόλις βρω λίγο χρόνο..