Italia!

Last weekend was a long weekend, and because my parents are still on this side of the world, and happened to be in the neighbourhood, we got together to talk over what we could do that would be fun. And the decision was made: Italy! A booking on Airbnb and a purchase of two return train tickets later and we were off early on Friday morning. From Lausanne we passed through Brig, from which Italy lies on the other side of a tunnel through a mountain. Our train left Switzerland precisely on time, went through the tunnel to Italy, and was then late. Italy is funny that way.

Bob Dylan quote on a wall (Bob was singing "lose" though).

Domodossola, Italy.

Our first stop in Italy was Domodossola, and the thing that struck me most about it was that it was super Italian. I can't get over the fact that on one side of a mountain people speak Swiss-German and eat rösti, and on the other side there are people saying "ciao!" while eating gelati. The change is so sudden! I guess I imagine a kind of culture gradient in which, for example, the coffees get better as you approach 100% Italian. But no, it is a solid line. They may as well mark it with red paint. In fact they might have, but the tunnel was dark so I couldn't see.

Geologist fascinated by fossils.

View from the train in the Valle d'Ossola.

Our destination that Friday was Omegna at Lake Orta. Lake Orta is like Lake Maggiore, but less major. Omegna is a little town nestled into the northernmost top of the lake. It's apparently where Alfonso Bialetti perfected his design of the Moka coffee maker. This detail alone makes it a place that will remain close to my heart.

Lago d'Orta.

Giant pink snails in Omegna.

Tanya in Omegna.

Omegna is also incredibly beautiful, especially when the sun comes out, as it did on Saturday. We wandered the town, just poking our noses here and there, taking in the sights and smells and sounds of the place.

Gorgeous Omegna.

Paintings for sale.

Detail of the snail.

Wall in Omegna.

I would love to know which artist painted these.

Rainbows and mountains.

We took a boat to Orta, which has a picturesque island - the Isola San Giulio - off its shore. When we got to the island, there were small boats constantly zipping between Orta and the island. Each was piloted by a cocky captain in a sailor's hat. Our boat, in contrast, was filled with not only us but also about a thousand German tourists, and our larger vessel moved more cautiously under the heavy load. The island itself is beautiful to look at, and is taken up by a private abbey, around which is a road you can walk on. The path is periodically punctuated by signs which are supposed to be inspirational and spiritual but read like the soggy remains of regurgitated fortune cookies. "Walls are in the mind", was one, for example, that was attached to what must have been a wall I just imagined. Deciding the island might be better from a distance, we left for the gelato-infused town of Orta, from which you can bask in the sun and look at the absolutely gorgeous island in its sparkling lake.

Looking back at Omegna.

Isola San Guilio.

Boating around.

Sadly the weekend had to come to an end and we had to head home, so we went to the train station and waited for our train, which was unceremoniously cancelled ten minutes before it was due to turn up. We learnt that Trenitalia was, for a limited time only, striking. The purpose of a strike is, I suppose, to simultaneously cause upset with the company, while proving to your customers how valuable the company actually is. In this Trenitalia was wildly successful. We adopted a counter-intuitive approach of heading away from our destination, in the hope of finding a bigger town that would provide a train connection home. So we went to Novara, where we found the one train that would get us where we needed to go, and even got on it before we were told it was cancelled too. Following our plan we upgraded town size again and this time ended up in Milan, where Tanya and I spent a frustrating couple of hours trying to buy tickets and being rebuffed by conductors. Eventually some kindly SBB staff took pity on us and we were allowed to squish into the door-well of a Switzerland-bound train - along with every other person in Northern Italy who wanted to go to Switzerland after the long weekend. In these situations you form a sort of bond with the people around you, in a kind of sweaty way. Together we made it back across the border and spilled out into Brig station; and after an adventurous weekend we made it home to Lausanne.

Oh-uh. It turns out "SOP." means "expensive and inconvenient".

As any sat-nav would say: "Recalculating route!"