Morning light on Lake Como
It's just past 8:30 on a crisp November morning, and I'm sitting on my small balcony at Albergo del Lago, wrapped in the extra blanket I found in the closet. The temperature is hovering around 4°C according to my phone, but the clear blue sky promises a warmer afternoon.
I woke up naturally with the sunrise, around 7:00. There's something about the quality of light here that makes even early mornings feel gentle rather than abrupt. The lake is perfectly still this morning, creating mirror images of the surrounding mountains. A few small fishing boats have been out since dawn, tiny specks on the vast surface.
I've already finished my first cup of coffee, brewed with the small electric kettle in my room. It's decent, though I've been making it stronger each day. The small café down the street opens at 9:00, and I'm planning to head there for a proper Italian breakfast once they open.
Three days in Varenna, and I'm still discovering new corners and perspectives. Yesterday's visit to the bookshop was unexpectedly meaningful. The elderly owner recommended a walking path that leads up into the hills behind the village – apparently, there's a small chapel with a view that encompasses the entire central part of the lake. I think I'll try that walk today while the weather holds.
I've been researching Villa Monastero and its botanical gardens. Even in November, apparently, there are interesting specimens to see, including some impressive cypress trees. The gardens stretch along the lakeshore for quite a distance, and the villa itself houses a small museum. It opens at 10:00, so I should have plenty of time to enjoy breakfast before heading there.
What's been most striking about Varenna is how the pace of my thoughts has slowed to match the rhythm of the village. In Milan, my mind was constantly racing, planning the next site, the next meal, the next move. Here, I find myself content to simply observe: the changing light on the water, the elderly locals greeting each other in the square, the way the mist clings to the mountains in the early morning before burning away.
Perhaps this is what I've been seeking all along – not just new places, but a new relationship with time itself. It's day 74 of my journey, with 426 still ahead. The enormity of that sometimes feels overwhelming, but moments like this morning remind me that the value isn't in the quantity of experiences but in their quality.
The sun is now fully above the mountains, and the temperature is already climbing. I think I'll finish my coffee and head down to that café. The day is calling, and even in this slow-paced village, there are discoveries waiting.
Later, I'll share what I find at Villa Monastero and whether that hilltop chapel view lives up to its promise.