SERENDIPITY
IN LAGO DI COMO
BY KARINA CASTRILLO
It was a sunny day when I traveled to Lake Como. I took a train from Milan and ventured to the foothills of the Alps, arriving at Como S. Giovanni station. Then I took a bus from the center to a little bed and breakfast in Lezzeno that was overlooking the lake. Neither the people at the station nor the bus driver spoke English, and I didn’t understand the Comasco dialect, so I communicated with hand signals and pointed to a map. There’s something thrilling about traveling alone. You never know what awaits you, and whatever the issue, you have to spring out of it with courage because there may be no one to help you. The bumpy ride turned out to be emotional — I was healing a wound from unrequited love and here were couples left and right walking hand in hand on their honeymoons. Lake Como was a romantic place, and if you ever wanted to be alone, it was probably the exact place to be, for you’d never feel more solitude than amongst the happy partnered people.
It was one day during that week that I walked over to a restaurant called Ristorante Aurora Lezzeno that I had the freshest meal of the day. I was having a spaghetti alle vongole — pasta with clams — when I met a sweet couple sitting at the table next to me. We’d both ordered a delicious tiramisu for dessert and bonded over how much we were enjoying it. The Irish woman and the Australian man invited me over for the next day to go boating on the lake. They were renting one of the boats anchored at the restaurant, and I could see it’d be an adventure I’d probably never be invited on again, so I said yes to the strangers.
As we took off into the beautiful waters, the breeze brought me back to life. We popped some Prosecco and set our sights at the villages flowing past us. The yachts perched on the lake, the colorful little houses of Varenna on the rocks — I laughed to myself at this serendipitous moment. My trip was going to be a bust, but thanks to them I was having fun again. We wandered into one of the towns for some shopping, we picked up some knickknacks, and I of course was about to buy some to take home to that special loved one who didn’t feel the same. As I held the bag of scaldatelli crackers in my hand ready to slide it onto the conveyer belt to check out, I thought of how irrational my love affair was. Surely it is the worst idea to be in love and heartbroken over your boss. And here I was about to feed this nightmare of a feeling. I dropped the bag, and went back to the boat.
While we jumped off into the lake to swim with the ducklings and wondered where George Clooney’s house was, I considered my life back home. I was at a job I loved, that I couldn’t let go of despite the fact that I had fallen for my manager and hated every minute of being unable to say the words. I was in love and it was a big secret, even though I walked into the office everyday with a face full of makeup and wearing the tiniest pencil skirt to flirt without saying much. The couple must have noticed something because they were extra kind to me. As the Irish woman waved her hand with a sparkling engagement ring on it, I thought how lovely that the two had met even living worlds away.
The next day back at the bed and breakfast, I wandered out of the balcony that had probably been there for over a century offering a solid view of the mountains. I munched on some fresh melons wrapped in salty prosciutto and thought about how you can be miles away out in the middle of Italy, but never run from your problems. What is it about travel that makes one jump on a plane to a land someplace where one doesn’t know anyone for the chance of a reboot? Do we think we can ever escape our thoughts?
As the hostess set up our breakfast with fresh cherries from the garden, bread, yogurt, and a strong espresso, I was suddenly aware that my time here was almost up, and I went down the road to take a walk. The signs didn’t make any sense to me, and I ran into an elderly gentleman who tried to point me into the direction of the bus stop, but I didn’t understand what time the bus stopped, and he didn’t understand what I was saying. When I was in Venice once I was able to communicate with my Spanish, even though the locals spoke Italian, but this time all was lost in translation. As I looked around for a pizza parlor, I realized everything was closed for it was a Sunday and in a sleepy town many choose to take it slow.
I admired them. I wish my daily life ran at a slower pace. Back in New York, which was home, everything moved quickly. Everything was expensive too. The rent, the food. Whereas here as pricey as Lake Como could be, you could still afford a place, and the meals were fresh and the ingredients used were always locally sourced and in season. The next day I did manage to find a pizza, and sat on a lounge chair in the garden to watch the last sunset of my trip here and wondered how it was time to be honest about what I wanted back home. If so many people here at the lake could meet someone that loved them back surely I could too. And maybe I didn’t have to pine for something that was never meant to be. So why be miserable, I thought. I took a sip of my wine, and stretched out as I gazed out at the roses and the mountains and the trees. Maybe you can’t help what you bring with you from home, but while you’re in paradise, it’s best to enjoy.
KARINA CASTRILLO is a freelance writer, a labor rights advocate, and a social media producer. She was formerly a travel writer at Culture Trip where she penned culture and travel stories about Paris and Miami. A true libra, you can find her writing her next zine, or doting on her beloved chihuahua, Enzo, with whom she travels everywhere like a regular Elle Woods.