(Written Thurs. July 24.) Destination number two on the Hulsen’s Tour de Italia: Lake Garda. Thinking that this is the largest of the lakes in the “Lake Region,” but honestly that may be malarkey. No idea where I read that or who told me that. Not even sure what all the “Lake Region” entails, but there you have it anyway. (I do know that we’re still pretty far north up on the ole Boot, geographically speaking.) As I write, I’m sitting on a plastic lawn chair that I rented for 3.50 Euros. (I know, big spender.) My parents have booted me out of the car and are driving (hopefully not crashing) Tim’s car along the east coast of the lake (aka The Olive Riviera) toward the mountains.
My view here: Directly in front of me is the most adorable older Italian couple basking in the sun (I’ll come back to them in a sec.) Beyond Mr. and Mrs. Spaghetti, spanning almost the whole range of my peripheral vision is the most beautiful, crystal blue lake I have ever seen. A clear ocean-blue, dotted with bright white boats and an occasional sail. Not to mention, to my right are the tips of the Italian Alps. So I’ve got sun, mountains, a stunning lake, comfy chair, a good book…all I need right now is my husband and some French fries and I would be set!
The people watching here is exceptional. Looking dead ahead is the old Italian gentleman—lets call him Mario. Mario: head to toe. White hair. HUGE sunglasses. Gold cross on his leather chest. Olive-green checkered Bermuda shorts--he is honestly an exception here to his Speedo-wearing brethren. Not to mention dark socks pulled halfway up his calves. Completing the ensemble with some beige orthotics of some kind. Very practical.
Aaah, my ADHD just kicked in. A large Dutch family just set up shop just about on top of me. That reminds me that Lake Garda is a very popular destination for Germans and Dutch. I’ve heard plenty of both languages with some Italian sprinkled in. I’m doing much better communicating in German here than in English.
Oooh, missed my chance! Now my Italian couple just moved on (probably in search of gelato.) Boogers. Can’t quite remember what Mrs. Mario was wearing, but I will tell you that there seems to be 2 types of Italian women, from what I can surmise. Type 1: young, gorgeous, teeny-tiny, leggy beauties with dark eyes and always, always high-heels. Or…type 2: grandmas with huge, puffy, cotton-candy-like, brightly colored hair and even bigger sunglasses, wearing housedresses with horrible 80s floral print on them that look like tents. I will say that Mrs. Mario was unfortunately not belonging to the first category.
My view here: Directly in front of me is the most adorable older Italian couple basking in the sun (I’ll come back to them in a sec.) Beyond Mr. and Mrs. Spaghetti, spanning almost the whole range of my peripheral vision is the most beautiful, crystal blue lake I have ever seen. A clear ocean-blue, dotted with bright white boats and an occasional sail. Not to mention, to my right are the tips of the Italian Alps. So I’ve got sun, mountains, a stunning lake, comfy chair, a good book…all I need right now is my husband and some French fries and I would be set!
The people watching here is exceptional. Looking dead ahead is the old Italian gentleman—lets call him Mario. Mario: head to toe. White hair. HUGE sunglasses. Gold cross on his leather chest. Olive-green checkered Bermuda shorts--he is honestly an exception here to his Speedo-wearing brethren. Not to mention dark socks pulled halfway up his calves. Completing the ensemble with some beige orthotics of some kind. Very practical.
Aaah, my ADHD just kicked in. A large Dutch family just set up shop just about on top of me. That reminds me that Lake Garda is a very popular destination for Germans and Dutch. I’ve heard plenty of both languages with some Italian sprinkled in. I’m doing much better communicating in German here than in English.
Oooh, missed my chance! Now my Italian couple just moved on (probably in search of gelato.) Boogers. Can’t quite remember what Mrs. Mario was wearing, but I will tell you that there seems to be 2 types of Italian women, from what I can surmise. Type 1: young, gorgeous, teeny-tiny, leggy beauties with dark eyes and always, always high-heels. Or…type 2: grandmas with huge, puffy, cotton-candy-like, brightly colored hair and even bigger sunglasses, wearing housedresses with horrible 80s floral print on them that look like tents. I will say that Mrs. Mario was unfortunately not belonging to the first category.
Have yet to mention where we are staying, mostly because we haven’t spent much time there thus far. We’re on a working vineyard. (Yep, thought my dad would be pleased to be so close to the grapes. Just taking out the middleman!) All I know so far is that we’ve been drinking coffee out of a bowl. Quite good, but gets cold fast. I’ll keep you posted…
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