Street in Bellagio
Stone outbuildings of Villa Gulia in Bellagio
Pathway of Olive trees from outbuildings to Villa Gulia
Pretty house in Borgo hamlet of Bellagio
Pretty house in Pescallo hamlet of Bellagio
Friday, November 19, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Daily Life
Lake Como is stunning. It rained for a few days, and was STILL beautiful---but at least one could work and not feel guilty for not being outdoors. When the sun is shining, I walk. My calf muscles are screaming from the steep hills, but I walk.
We are staying in this amazing palace built in the mid 1500s, but the steep promontory we are on was important both for military purposes and "holiday" purposes for at least a thousand years before that (and people lived here, in caves above the lake, 30,000-40,000 years ago). Remember how the Goths and Visigoths, etc, came into Italy from the north and destroyed a weak and frivolous Roman civilization? Well, it turns out that this lake was one of the "super-highways" they used, coming down from Germany and the rest of central Europe, through the mountains, across what is now Switzerland, and then right through here, using the lake as a direct and fast path onto the very fertile plains south of here (where Milan is). So this place, from the arrival of the Celts in about 500 BC, and Roman invaders (legions of soldiers began attacking the area around 200 BC), through Teutons, Vandals, Visigoths, Goths, Lombards, and, much later, the Spaniards and French and Austrians, saw many many land and water battles. It became a "last-ditch effort" kind of place to try to hold back the "barbarian hordes" streaming down into Italy, as well as a rich, fertile area that various feudal families and ruling houses fought over. As peaceful as it is now, it was a battleground, off and on, for 2000 years. Fortunately, it often had very intelligent and forward-thinking leaders, who, for instance, saved this town from plague multiple times by simply quarantining it: no one was allowed in, and this was enforced with guns and cannons. The Capuchin friars nursed the sick from around the lake in their hospital in the 1600s, but no one, even the seemingly not-ill, was allowed into the town. The local lord of this palace, during this particular plague, followed the practice of earlier Bellagio lords: he fed his people--so no one would have any reason to leave the village for food-- by placing sacks of grain on a rock out in the water, and if they could leave coins in payment, they did so by placing the coins in a jar filled with vinegar, to kill germs. Remember, this is before the germ theory of illness, and before anyone understood how illness was spread. But a similar practice had worked a couple of hundred years before, so once again the town of Bellagio was saved, with not a single person being infected.
Lots of famous and historically important people actually stayed here, on this estate, back when it was a Roman villa, then a medieval villa and stronghold, and then a Renaissance palace (including, no kidding, Pliny the Younger, a couple of Holy Roman Emperors, and Leonardo Da Vinci).
Our co-guests right now include a Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist (her first book was "Carry Me Home," about Alabama and local Klan activity during the Civil rights movement, a mixture of investigative journalism and family memoir, which I am very much looking forward to reading); a famous Mexican environmental activist (the kind who has gotten death threats for years) and poet/novelist, who has personally known Alan Ginsberg, Carlos Castaneda, etc, and who was Mexico's ambassador to UNESCO; his wife, who translates his writings into English; an important Arab-language poet from Lebanon, who for what will likely be his final project (he is quite old) is translating 20th century American poems by people of color, especially women, into Arabic, and whose poetry reading two nights ago brought me to tears (clearly the best way to appreciate poetry is to have someone who truly understands the poem read it aloud); a housing activist who works on Capitol Hill; a woman who runs a NY City non-profit organization that borrows money from banks and then loans it to out to non-profits; a German physicist who is working with anti-proton beams and anti-matter and their feasibility in treating cancer; a Polish artist, who spent a year in prison under the Communists, and whose work is difficult (some quite jarring, some upsetting, some entertaining) but important. One of his most famous works is in the Jewish Museum in NY City.
And then, most of them brought a partner with them, each of whom is interesting in their own right (e.g. the Polish artist's Polish artist wife is a very good, and important-in-Eastern-Europe artist, and the Lebanese poet's wife is an artist, ...
At first I thought we would not be able to "gel" as a group, and would find nothing to talk about, but then we went out drinking together....and that did the trick.
Both Don and I are each getting a LOT of work done, despite the distraction of the scenery. The group is served breakfast early, we work all morning, eat lunch with the group, take a long walk (some days I walk alone, some days with Don, and we often meet other members of the group while out walking), and then usually either have a cappuccino as we work in the afternoon, or take late afternoon "tea" with whoever is around, or have a cappuccino in town before coming back for a couple more hours of work before obligatory cocktails at 7:00. If it rains, we work all day. So it IS in fact conducive to getting work done, while at the same time being so relaxing that even the caffeine doesn't make me jittery! This is the first time in my life I have been able to drink caffeine coffee and tea every day and still be relaxed. Some of us have talked about hiding in the closets when they close the place down for the winter months after we leave.
We are staying in this amazing palace built in the mid 1500s, but the steep promontory we are on was important both for military purposes and "holiday" purposes for at least a thousand years before that (and people lived here, in caves above the lake, 30,000-40,000 years ago). Remember how the Goths and Visigoths, etc, came into Italy from the north and destroyed a weak and frivolous Roman civilization? Well, it turns out that this lake was one of the "super-highways" they used, coming down from Germany and the rest of central Europe, through the mountains, across what is now Switzerland, and then right through here, using the lake as a direct and fast path onto the very fertile plains south of here (where Milan is). So this place, from the arrival of the Celts in about 500 BC, and Roman invaders (legions of soldiers began attacking the area around 200 BC), through Teutons, Vandals, Visigoths, Goths, Lombards, and, much later, the Spaniards and French and Austrians, saw many many land and water battles. It became a "last-ditch effort" kind of place to try to hold back the "barbarian hordes" streaming down into Italy, as well as a rich, fertile area that various feudal families and ruling houses fought over. As peaceful as it is now, it was a battleground, off and on, for 2000 years. Fortunately, it often had very intelligent and forward-thinking leaders, who, for instance, saved this town from plague multiple times by simply quarantining it: no one was allowed in, and this was enforced with guns and cannons. The Capuchin friars nursed the sick from around the lake in their hospital in the 1600s, but no one, even the seemingly not-ill, was allowed into the town. The local lord of this palace, during this particular plague, followed the practice of earlier Bellagio lords: he fed his people--so no one would have any reason to leave the village for food-- by placing sacks of grain on a rock out in the water, and if they could leave coins in payment, they did so by placing the coins in a jar filled with vinegar, to kill germs. Remember, this is before the germ theory of illness, and before anyone understood how illness was spread. But a similar practice had worked a couple of hundred years before, so once again the town of Bellagio was saved, with not a single person being infected.
Lots of famous and historically important people actually stayed here, on this estate, back when it was a Roman villa, then a medieval villa and stronghold, and then a Renaissance palace (including, no kidding, Pliny the Younger, a couple of Holy Roman Emperors, and Leonardo Da Vinci).
Our co-guests right now include a Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist (her first book was "Carry Me Home," about Alabama and local Klan activity during the Civil rights movement, a mixture of investigative journalism and family memoir, which I am very much looking forward to reading); a famous Mexican environmental activist (the kind who has gotten death threats for years) and poet/novelist, who has personally known Alan Ginsberg, Carlos Castaneda, etc, and who was Mexico's ambassador to UNESCO; his wife, who translates his writings into English; an important Arab-language poet from Lebanon, who for what will likely be his final project (he is quite old) is translating 20th century American poems by people of color, especially women, into Arabic, and whose poetry reading two nights ago brought me to tears (clearly the best way to appreciate poetry is to have someone who truly understands the poem read it aloud); a housing activist who works on Capitol Hill; a woman who runs a NY City non-profit organization that borrows money from banks and then loans it to out to non-profits; a German physicist who is working with anti-proton beams and anti-matter and their feasibility in treating cancer; a Polish artist, who spent a year in prison under the Communists, and whose work is difficult (some quite jarring, some upsetting, some entertaining) but important. One of his most famous works is in the Jewish Museum in NY City.
And then, most of them brought a partner with them, each of whom is interesting in their own right (e.g. the Polish artist's Polish artist wife is a very good, and important-in-Eastern-Europe artist, and the Lebanese poet's wife is an artist, ...
At first I thought we would not be able to "gel" as a group, and would find nothing to talk about, but then we went out drinking together....and that did the trick.
Both Don and I are each getting a LOT of work done, despite the distraction of the scenery. The group is served breakfast early, we work all morning, eat lunch with the group, take a long walk (some days I walk alone, some days with Don, and we often meet other members of the group while out walking), and then usually either have a cappuccino as we work in the afternoon, or take late afternoon "tea" with whoever is around, or have a cappuccino in town before coming back for a couple more hours of work before obligatory cocktails at 7:00. If it rains, we work all day. So it IS in fact conducive to getting work done, while at the same time being so relaxing that even the caffeine doesn't make me jittery! This is the first time in my life I have been able to drink caffeine coffee and tea every day and still be relaxed. Some of us have talked about hiding in the closets when they close the place down for the winter months after we leave.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Bellagio Views
Looking up to the "Frati," a Capuchin monastary built in the 1500s, which is now a conference center on the grounds of the Bellagio Center (The Villa Serbelloni). The current conference is on the impacts of climate change on the the world's people. 
The quickest way down to the village: the two hundred or so steps from the villa. The villagers would run up them when pirates or invaders came. I can walk up them, but running???
Bellagio village, on the southern finger of Lake Como, with the bell tower of the 11th century church, St. Giacomo (James) in the foreground.
Bellagio village.
The Sfondrata (explained in earlier post), with its 16th century tower and boat house, on the right hand side. The Sfondrata and its tower are another conference center on the estate. Right now there is a conference going on there on casava, an important food source for 800 million or the world's people.
Photos, Lake Como
The Villa Serbelloni, in the town of Bellagio, on Lakes Como and Lecco (on a promontory that divides the large Lake Como into three long fingers: Como to the north and also to the south west, and Lecco to the south east. Our room is on the upper corner facing the viewer, with the small balcony coming off the front of the building. The rose gardens are immediately below, with the top of the olive groves below. In the background to the west is the southern finger of Lake Como, looking south. The villa was built, in its present iteration, in 1540.
Looking out from our balcony to the southern finger of Lake Como.
The view from our balcony looking east, over rose gardens, to Lake Lecco (the western finger of the large Lake Como). The building below houses the small gym.
Looking south over Lake Lecco, with the buildings of "The Sfrondrata", built for the owner's brother, a cardinal, in the 1500s, on the waterfront. Also, to the far right of the photo, on the water, is the small harbor built by Sfondrati, with the tiny, gorgeous neighborhood of Pescalli.
From the very top of the promontory, about 300-400 feet above the lake, looking north over the northern finger of Lake Como, toward Switzerland (not far away) and the Alps. I believe these 7-8000 foot mountains are called the "pre-Alps." They are only about 10 or 15 miles away, I think.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Lake Como, Italy
A.M. Post: We are now in what surely has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth (photos to follow), and I have no idea if I will be able to get any work done. Maybe it will rain; perhaps I will become jaded. One can only hope.
P.M. Aahh: now I see how it works. One walks ones calves off, first climbing to the top of the hill, then going down to the village and climbing all the way back up. THEN one is so tired of walking and of beauty (for the day) that one can sit down at a desk and work. Perhaps this will work, after all.
Plus, the limitless supply of cappucino helps, too (especially after the obligatory --tough, I know--wine at lunch. Cocktails at 7:00, dinner at 7:30, apertifs after. Dear me, what a life.
(Sorry for the lack of an apostrophe in the above possessive "ones." The blog site is being temperamental again.)
P.M. Aahh: now I see how it works. One walks ones calves off, first climbing to the top of the hill, then going down to the village and climbing all the way back up. THEN one is so tired of walking and of beauty (for the day) that one can sit down at a desk and work. Perhaps this will work, after all.
Plus, the limitless supply of cappucino helps, too (especially after the obligatory --tough, I know--wine at lunch. Cocktails at 7:00, dinner at 7:30, apertifs after. Dear me, what a life.
(Sorry for the lack of an apostrophe in the above possessive "ones." The blog site is being temperamental again.)
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Season of Dark, Season of Light
Season of Dark, Season of Light It is getting colder and darker here in Sweden, and in Stockholm at night, the city is lit by fire. Small fires, in the form of candles, torches and 12-18 inch fire pits (we have no English vocabulary for them),
but fire none the less. As soon as it gets dark, any small shop or any restaurant that is open has fire outside, in one form or another, to let people know. On sidewalks everywhere, there are lanterns with candles, open candles, or, for the larger tourist places, the larger fire pits or torches. 
In small restaurants, they turn off (or dim) the electric lights and simply light the place with candles, in chandeliers, on tables, on the stairs, on the counter, in wall sconces. In homes, too, according to our Swedish friends, it is time to light candles at night, all around one’s home. Since few apartments have curtains or shades, as one walks the streets, one’s way is lit by streetlights and lamplights from people’s windows, but it is also comforting to know that indoors, many people have their candles lit.
The most lovely form that this takes are the candles that are lit on sidewalks, in order to let one’s guests know, first, how to get to one’s apartment from the nearest subway stop, (so the spacing of candles every 15 feet or so along the sidewalk), second, that one has arrived at the correct building, and third, to follow the steps in the building until wherever one’s apartment is. I guess that since the king who decided to knock down all those wooden buildings all over Stockholm in the 1880s-1920s had them replaced with stone, people aren’t worried about fires destroying the city. Certainly for such a large city, one rarely hears sirens.
The other night a local social institution (Masons?) had a large party, and there were candles guiding the way from the T-stop above our street, down our street, around the corner, across the street (not actually ON the street, of course), and then up the 40-50 steps that lead from the sidewalk up to the little hilltop that the building is on. Each of those steps had a large lit candle smack in the center of the step, and it was breath-takingly lovely.
All of this helps me to understand something about the Swedish soul. Yul (Yule) is coming, and there are the beginnings of Yul decorations in shops: red-painted candelabras, the winter-gnomes 
(tomtar, the same name as for Santa, who IS one of these gnomes) who live in the north with the reindeer-herding Sami (usually these sometimes helpful, sometimes trouble-making house-gnomes live under the floor boards of nice people, but some live in the north, with the reindeer).
In early December, Swedes will celebrate St. Lucia Day, when the family will be awakened by the daughter of the house, carrying a tray of food, and wearing a crown of LIT candles. If she has brothers, they may dress as star-boys and follow her with lit lanterns. Gamla Stan, the Old Town, will be lit with beauty. The shallow fountain-pools in parks will be filled with water to freeze for ice-skating. And Swedes will celebrate their Mid-Winter Festival of Light; not a religious Christmas, in this profoundly secular society, and not an orgy of consumerism, as in our supposedly religious society, but a festival both celebrating the winter, the cold and the dark (by late December, tnhere will be a scant 6 hours of light in Stockholm; it will be full dark by 3:00 pm here, and of course, even earlier north of here. Where the Sami live, it will be dark all day), and fighting it, with their light. Sweden, that nation of 8 million do-gooders, which took in half a million refugees from our war in Iraq, plus thousands of refugees from other wars in Africa, Bosnia, Serbia and Croatia, Kosovo, which gives a higher percentage of their national income to international relief than any other nation, and which generously shares its national wealth among its own people, IS a light among nations, the city on a hill that we Americans aspire to be, but can never be as long as our central defining identity is individualism, each person for themselves. I say, in this season of growing darkness and cold, let there be light.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Friday our first snow
The last blog was about beautiful fall weather in Stockholm. Well, that was Sunday; today is Friday. Still beautiful, but the seasons are moving fast! The really cold weather moved in after the mid-week rain, and the puddles have a skin of ice on them. It's 9:00 am, and this is what our street looks like. Shiver. Our friend, Dustin, just arrived from Atlanta, and the first thing he said when we started walking to dinner last night was, "I have to buy a hat." Don replied, "I have to WEAR my hat." Being the female in the group, I had my hat on.
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