Paolo also says Como is too far away unless we get a bus. Three hours, maybe.

It was three hours there, but only because we screwed up a bit. We could have made it in two, maybe two and a half no big deal.

Ride across the lake was fantastic. Not very big, just long enough for you to dig it.

No boats from Colico in the winter and early spring -- gotta catch it on/off at Varenna which wasn't exactly what we wanted to do.

In retrospect I should have been checking the goddamned Internet for ferry schedules instead of writing to you fools.

Rumor has it George Clooney owns no less than three establishments here in Bellagio. I wonder if we'll see him down by the park or something. Its quiet right now. I'd tell him that he needs to give me a job renovating that monster hotel down at the bottom of the hill. No way I would actually stay in there after nightfall by myself, though.

That's for madmen.

Bottom of the hill, by the water we stop and have lunch.

Group of uninteresting Americans except for the daughter who is kind of exotic looking in an American Blonde Girl way. Wide lips.

I remember a girl like that, million miles ago. Good ol' Jeana Bo Bina. Wonder what happened to her. Still married and happy in LA, I hope.

They somehow get talking about her lips because perhaps its that sort of subject and lord knows there aren't any BLACK people in their family -- just look at the mama.

Which doesn't settle things much and mama ain't no match for her baby and the whole thing is kind of weird.

However, there's this great thing about Italy that we frown on in America which is called when you are having a long day you can get yourself a pitcher of wine and thats perfectly OK.

Middle of the night, banshee-style behavior? They leave that to the Dutch and the occasional bad girl.

So here. Have some ensalata. Have some bresaola. Have some bread and some wine and I'll be more than happy with what you want to leave over the copperto. Arrividerci, Americano!

The transit back is reasonable. Italian transit is more forgiving, the bus waits for the train and gets there with plenty of time to service it.

Its Friday night and there's a lot of traffic. Lots of kids coming home from school, families off to the winter retreat. The train empties at Sondrio but they are all waiting for us again at Tirano for the long packed bus ride back.

All those little towns are full of light and sunshine now, swept out diligently by little grannies and welcoming babies back home again. Driver always waits to make sure the passenger is met up. Passenger is always met up.

Off we go into the mountains.

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