It’s 8am on an unusually chilly, mid-summer morning, but I suspect you’ve already been awake since dawn. You’ve put a moka on the stove, and gave Cappuccino her kibble.
What’s next for the day?
Porta Nuova, one of the major train stations in the city
A brisk walk around the city’s famous piazzas? It’s familiar, it’s routine, but doing that today feels unsettling.
On the way to Piazza San Carlo & Piazza Castello
81 years have been spent in this city, and you realize that’s been a lot of time. Wasn’t it just yesterday that you were walking hand-in-hand around the fountains of Piazza Castello with a handsome, young diplomat?
No, it was a dream that may or may not have happened 60 years ago…
Piazza Castello on a quiet morning
And before diabetes, there was always Café Al Bicerin to look forward to.
The iconic Café Al Bicerin
Most kids remember the first sip of wine their parents allowed them to take. But you know that doesn’t compare to the experience of one’s first Il Bicerin.
The iconic cafe’s signature drink – Il Bicerin
A warm, rich glass layered with coffee, hot chocolate, and cream, only made more heavenly with a side of biscotti. Such a treat now would have to be timed well to avoid a sugar-induced coma!
You see Cappuccino is starting to get antsy. A walk outside is now mandatory, but if not at one of the piazzas, then where? Deciding where to go ends up becoming a walk in itself, but then you realize you are in the vicinity of the Palatine Towers, a strapping Roman age relic that has stood well against the test of time.
You were never one for history, always daydreaming about the future and escaping to a modern Italy. But after years of chasing that illusion, it’s felt less exhausting to retreat back to what is familiar and appreciate la dolce vita whenever possible.
Humor in Torino
And of course that means food and drinks and amici, but it’s been years since you’ve attended weeks upon weeks of gatherings.
Plaza across from the Palace Parliament
In fact, wasn’t it just last week that another dear friend was put to rest? Time seems to have let you be, winning the title among your group of childhood friends for longest-living ragazza was never the plan.
Palace Parliament
Despite the looming, bleak outcome life seems to have in store, redirecting oneself back to daily distractions seems to help. Especially if Mole Antonelliana is that distraction.
Mole, a building of monumental proportions…Alessandro Antonelli got that right.
When it comes to distractions, crossing the Po River to see Torino from the top used to be a magnificent escape.
Crossing the Po River, amongst the backdrop of Torino pride 🚩
Leg pain and fatigue get in the way from making the steep climb nowadays, but it’s something you would have urged your kids and grandkids to do if they had ever graced this planet.
A feisty, furball like Cappuccino on the other hand? Good luck chasing her stubby legs up a vertiginous incline!
Borgo Medievale seems more approachable right now, although another long walk through the park doesn’t sound appetizing to a grumbling stomach.
It’s nothing like Disneyland—a teenage dream that even your world-faring parents couldn’t help you fulfill—but at least you take pride in its authenticity.
Borgo Medievale
Fontana di Nettuno is nearby and always stirs a chuckle…as a fiery Leo, you find Agosto to be a tad timid, while Settembre and her Virgo charm seem to be asking for a friendly competition…
Settembre and Agosto personified!
Alright, it’s been an incredibly long walk, but before collapsing onto the bed at home for a lusciously, long afternoon nap, una coppeta of gelato seems much deserved! Diabetes should let a few spoonfuls pass on through without a fuss😉
Gelato from La Romana
Sweet caramel and pistacchio—flavors that always wrap you with comfort. Gelato—Italy’s gift to the world that despite the unknowns and uncontrollable outcomes of life, life is still a sweet adventure.
An adventure that Torino genuinely fulfills in a quiet,reflective manner.
I am so happy to share a piece my Dad wrote in honor of his father’s—my thatha’s—101st birthday! My thatha, fondly known as VVR, was a chemistry professor, Hindu scholar, and family man all in one lifetime. Read below to see why he is revered by everyone who knew him well ❤️.
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On my beloved father V.V.Ramanujam’s birthday
A year ago, I shared a tribute to Dr. VVR in this forum on his 100th birth anniversary. My family and I were truly moved by the response of the Tambrahm community. Today, he will have been 101. Far from the year dimming his memory, it has only sharpened my appreciation for the gift that was my father.
One time, a few years before his departure for the heavens, he took ill and was admitted to the ICU. After heroic measures, the doctors pretty much shrugged and told us to prepare for the worst. After a long overnight vigil during which he almost left us, he came back and the doctor that examined him the next morning said, “I have no explanation for this miracle. This is nothing to do with medicine. His almighty must have a plan and a purpose for him!”
During this time, Sri. Ramanujar’s 1000th anniversary was a mere 3 years away and VVR was immersed in furiously completing his life’s passion—writing Emberumanar (Sri. Ramanujar’s) vaibhavam. We know this is why he was not allowed to depart. Though he could not complete his work before 2017, we were all ecstatic that VVR was able to celebrate the day in person. While he attained Ramanuja’s thiruvadigal before the publication of the book, we are blessed that the book was released this year. This work of devotion was a culmination of a lifetime of writing over 18 books in Vaishnava Philosophy.
There is nothing I can say here that I had not shared a year earlier. But as time flows, and I reflect, I am awed by his sheer grace. Hope you will indulge me as I share with his human side. Scholarly as he was, steeped in Visishtadhvaitam as he was, immersed in devotion as he was, he never compelled his children to master the tomes or to observe the orthodoxy that he respected so. If today, we have any wisdom at all, it is the blessing his proximity brought.
He has been variously called a Vaishnava simham or jewel, but I think of him as a flower that lends its fragrance to the string (naaru) that is me. It is somehow appropriate because many around him partook the nectar that is his wisdom like bees from a flower. Alas, not me. But his affection, I could not help but drown in. He loved his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren beyond measure. I can still see so fresh in my mind’s eye his gap-toothed smile and much later a toothless grin.
In his latter years, the younger generations would gather, filling the house with chaos, with television blaring, kids playing and older generation arguing the topic of the day and he would be quietly performing his nithyanu santanam or be engaged in his writing, without ever furrowing his brows or uttering one complaint. I would think he was just being tolerant, suppressing his irritation. Now I realize, he was completely in love with this celebration, this joy that is family life.
They say a worth of a man’s life is the tracks he makes. My father certainly left a mark with immense contribution of the highest caliber to Hindu literature. Thanks to Google and the kainkaryam of his disciples, his work will live online forever. But the true measure of a life is the pride his family takes in being a part of his legacy. His children, grandchildren, and great grands, scattered over the world, will to a soul would say they are so proud to be VVR’s descendant.
That is ultimately his gift from his beloved Lord. Pathasarathy.
Even though I have lived in Italy for a little over a year, I do not regret spending my “precious summer vacation time off” back in the US.
I could have flocked to the south like 99.9% of the vacationing population (don’t cite me on the statistics 😂), but my heart wanted nothing more than to be with my family, even if they live in a negatively-stereotyped state.
I’m here to show you that Texas is just as “hot” of a vacation spot as Puglia or Sardenga or Sicilia…
…and sure, I’m biased because this is now where my family is, but the happiness I felt in the two weeks I spent here and with them—it was nothing short of incredible.
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Compared to most families, my family was quite nomadic when I was young. My parents immigrated to the US and settled in Oklahoma where my dad’s job was located for many years. He was given an offer to relocate to the UK for two years in the mid-to-late 90s, and so my sister and I were British tots for a short-while 😅.
Since we had to move back to Oklahoma in the late 90s, my sis and I lost our British coalminer accents (how on Earth we got them, don’t ask 🤣), but our move was short anyways. Within a year, we set off to grand California, and settled in a cozy town right in the middle of the capital (Sacramento) and the infamous San Francisco.
And we were rooted there for 15 years. I went to a UC not too far, and for grad school, I stayed within the state with my choice to attend a school in LA. My parents ended up moving back to Oklahoma in 2015, and ended up moving to Texas in late 2020. My sis and I were able to stay in California for as long as we could, until she ended up moving to Texas as well in late 2019, and I for Italy in 2020.
Needless to say, we all were certainly nomadic, given that I know a number of people who have never left their hometown in their entire life.
The strange thing is, I don’t really miss California. And as much as I’ve expressed my love for Oklahoma here and on social media, my recent two weeks in Texas hit me differently. It just automatically felt like home, even though it never had been in the past.
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My parents’ new home is in a northern suburb of Houston, not too far from the George Bush International airport. I spent my first week of vacation waking up close to sunrise, heading out for a sluggish, humid run, and then returning home to Dad’s freshly-prepared coffee still swimming in my own sweat 😂.
Shortly after, we’d head over to the community tennis courts (as far as I know, I have not come across “free” tennis courts in Italy, so this is an American freedom I now whole-heartedly appreciate 😅), whack a few balls, and fall over in laughter when we saw the neighboring Muscovy duck flock get up to some insane antics!
Sunrise over Texas…
Most of the time, we ran errands and visited my favorite stores. I was actually excited—for the first time in my life—to make a trip to Target 😂! I got my fill of kombucha, tonic water, BBQ veggie burgers, cupcakes, and froyo—indulgences hard to come by in the land of la dolce vita 😉.
Even though I would have been happy being a couch potato for two weeks, my Dad suggested we should do a day trip. I already had plans to go to Austin to see my sister for a few days, and we even spent an evening in College Station having dinner with my cousin’s son.
But a day trip to Galveston sounded like a great dad-and-daughter adventure ☺️.
From Houston proper, it took a good hour to get to Galveston by car. Galveston is technically Galvestion Island, and is located on the Texas Gulf Coast. Like every day of my visit, it was humid and warm, but the views were charming.
Free as bird
Sure, the water was “darker” than the what you’d expect from the Mediterranean (or even the Pacific, the further you go down along the California coast past LA), but it was a busy body of water, as one could see by the industrial oil rig set-up.
Galveston vibes
Dad thought a “fun thing to do” would be to book seats on a tour boat and try to spot dolphins. I normally have motion-sickness, but I did alright on this 1 hour tour of the gulf 😂. We spotted some, but it was mostly just something to do to pass the time.
After the tour, we drove down a nearby street all the way to Galveston Beach, and I was shocked by how empty it was! I’m used to seeing beach crowds based on my years in SoCal (Santa Monica and Huntington Beaches were always bustling), so to see nothing but terns along the shore was absolutely refreshing.
Galveston Beach views
The best part of the day was finally getting my hands on a Blaze Pizza, with toppings just the way I like it. Pineapple on pizza is a sin in Italy, and even though I’ve had my share of Italian pizzas, I still honestly believe Blaze makes the best kind of pie there is.
The ‘Art Lover’, packed with mozzarella, ricotta dobs, garlic, red sauce dollops, and artichokes (with my addition of pineapple and BBQ sauce) is literally my dream pizza. I find it hilarious that I, living in Italy, have to go back to America to get the best pizza there is 🤣.
The best pizza ever
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Then there was Austin, and I think that’s what made me think, man, I really like Texas 😂.
But to be fair, a lot of my feelings had to do with the people I was with. My sister and our bestie—my girls for life.
I drove from Houston to Austin alone on a Saturday morning, while my bestie flew in from Vegas to Austin’s airport, where my sister picked her up.
Once we were reunited, we made a stop at Juiceland for thick smoothies and acai bowls (the things I miss while living abroad… 😂) before heading to my sis’ air-conditioned apartment to unload our luggage and hug her adorable Tortie Autumn:
2 cute 4 words
And the rest of the time we spent together was blissful. To be able to belly-laugh again and really be my “crazy” self with people who have known me for years…it was something special.
In the mornings before going out, I’d go out for a run (of course) and take in the gorgeous scenery Austin has to offer. The grand Texas sunrise. Beautiful murals. Long roads.
Most of our time was spent at coffee shops, eating out (or getting food from outside to eat in), and running in-and-out of Target or a local grocery store for snacks, just like old times 😂.
I made sure to get iced coffees at every chance I got, since Italy is not a huge fan of ice in drinks. We also splurged on other fun, “only-in-America” type meals like breakfast tacos from Taco Joint near UT Austin, and carrot cake at a cafe near Lake Austin.
Citrus Americano from Square Peg Coffee – Sis’ order of breakfast tacos from Taco Joint – A mouth-watering profile of decadent carrot cake from a cafe near Lake Austin
We did make sure to go by some “attractions”, but in all honesty the weather made it impossible to do anything (and enjoy it) for the majority of daylight hours.
Still, we managed to walk around UT for a bit and pass by the Capitol Building.
Views by the UT Austin campus bookstore, and passing by the Capitol Building
We also managed to brace ourselves for a very short hike at Bull Creek Preserve. We were trying to figure out what we could do to kill time before hitting up a coffee shop again 😅. I think we would have found the park even more enjoyable in the fall, or at least whenever temps were to cool down again.
There were a lot of dry areas, but there was still water flowing through the creek—and amphibians holding on for dear life!
As the weekend with my girls came to a close, my mood went from an ultra-high to a super-low when I got back to my parents’ house in Houston. That Tuesday night I couldn’t help but cry, thinking that after so many months of challenges and unsettling circumstances, a three-day weekend with my girls restored the vibrant personality they know me for…the one that has been dampened by the burdens of life.
I remember looking out to Lake Austin thinking, wow, today has really been a lovely day.
It was strange that, from the point I returned from Austin back to my parents’ house, my vacation quickly concluded. I barely remember what happened in the days between Wednesday of that week and Friday prior to my departure, but at least it was time spent with my Dad, and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute.
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Obviously I was sad about leaving my family, and the new-found love I have for Houston and Austin especially, but the time had come to return to Italy.
As I finish writing up this recap, it would have been a week since I left home to come “home?”. In Amsterdam, the immigration officer left me temporarily stumped with a question when I handed him my US passport and Italian permesso:
“Are you returning home?”
I found myself frozen, and he sort of chuckled when he replied, “Well, you live in Italy so you’re going home”. And with a loud stamp, he allowed me to proceed to my terminal.
It’s only been one year for me in Italy, but it’s also been one incredibly long year for me away from my family. My culture. My country. Still, I’m doing my best to keep my shoulders back and head held high as I go into my second year. I’m still holding out for exciting opportunities that have the potential to advance my career, but it’s also scary not knowing what lies ahead.
I suppose that’s why most people in this world never dare to venture out, because their hearts are so full, comfortable, and safe being nursed by their loved ones at home.
Once again, I’ve retreated to the tongue that gives me comfort—English.
Despite years of back-and-forth with my parents trying to practice Tamil.
Despite taking four years of German in high school, and letting an intermediate level college class my freshman year intimidate me from going further.
Despite being enamored by the idea of an adventurous life abroad—first being swayed by Spanish but then pushed towards the direction of Italian, due to available job opportunities in my career field.
But it’s not like I’m monolingual either.
Give me a few minutes, but I can piece letters of the Tamil alphabet together. I remember the phonetics–a, aa, e, ee–and eventually my brain puts two-and-two together.
But are my relatives patient enough for me to spit out the syllables?
In German class, I reveled in the moments Herr L. gave me a 100% on the oral parts of our German exams, or when he awarded me the top German student award my sophomore year of high school.
Did I really let a cold, middle-aged teacher’s assistant get in the way of furthering my Deutsch?
And in graduate school, I thought I wouldn’t ever want to leave LA. But then I experienced a short solo trip abroad, and it led me to daydreaming about a new life chapter in Southern Europe. I took weekend Italian classes for fun. Got my former boss to approve my taking of an introductory Italian course at the university I was working at as a freshly-minted PhD, since I was applying for a post-doc research position abroad. Just when I thought I was doing the right amount of preparation, mixed with a healthy blend of enthusiasm…
COVID-19 hit. Along with other obstacles I wasn’t expecting—little by little, my enthusiasm and motivation for learning a language I thought I would be ready for—Italian—was fading away by the minute.
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I’ve met expats here in Italy who say if they could have changed one thing about preparing for their life abroad in Italy, it would have been to learn the language before arriving. But I have to ask, how much is enough? My casual approach with and exposure to Italian began in December 2018, followed by a summer break, and then a university-tailored introductory semester course in Fall 2019. Even with all of that I didn’t feel prepared, but I did feel motivated. I remember telling my Italian teacher at the end of my “mid-term exam” that I would be moving to Milan in February 2020, and he quipped that I had enough of a foundation to build on. That I was all-set for a really exciting time.
Was what I knew really enough for late summer nights in the heart of Milan?
Needless to say, the dire situation Italy was in during spring 2020 left me troubled and crushed. How could I stay motivated with what was going on in the world? With no end in sight, how could I be so sure I would be moving to Italy at all?
So, I took a break from Italian, that is until things seemed to reshift back into balance. When I finally arrived in Milan late June 2020, I had a quarantine to get through. This allowed me to “stall” in regards to communicating with others, as I was nervous about how much I could get by with, with the little Italian I thought I knew.
My new work colleagues appreciated that I was learning, but they were quick to “assure” me that I would learn Italian as time passed. Not to worry, you can get by with English for now.
But this attitude only left me frustrated, because I was genuinely trying to be vulnerable. I wanted to meet someone who would force me to only communicate in Italian, but everyone seemed too impatient for that.
I soon grew tired of my “switch-to-English” giveaways. My Bank of America credit card. My United States passport. Upon seeing these clues, the baristas, the delivery guys, the grocery store clerks, and the government workers wouldn’t give me a chance to try.
It just felt like I was always getting shut down.
As I continued into summer 2020, I did my best not to give up. I signed up for a premium subscription to a language learning app called Busuu, since it seemed to offer language level tests (that A/B/C system) and certificates to prove your language level. Supposedly, the app even adjusted the predicted time you would reach a certain level (i.e. B2) based on your progress, however I never noticed any changes despite my daily log-ins and obsessiveness to meet the daily time goals. I was able to reason with myself and decide that I would keep my language learning as a solitary activity for the time being, and put things into practice with people as time went on.
Language exchanges for international women seemed like a wonderful opportunity to socialize and practice speaking Italian, in theory…
The chance to practice with others did present itself as short-lived language exchanges. I was able to attend these events on a weekly basis from September through end of October 2020, and even though the idea of participating in a language exchange seemed perfect, what usually ended up happening was that the native English speakers helped the native Italian speakers more than the other way around…
What it really ended up being was an excuse for late evening aperitivo (and dinner for me!) at “trendy” places like the Duomo or Piazza Gae Aulenti.
I was the girl who had to settle for a frappucino at 7pm, because I wanted a drink like all the other girls in attendance, but just not one with alcohol!
But even with a language app and in-person language exchanges, I quickly realized that being in Italy, why wasn’t I taking the opportunity to pursue private lessons with a native speaker? So I met with a girl who was in the same Whatsapp group for international women in the city that I was in. She was a native speaker, and even though she studied languages in college and seemed to be “fascinated by world cultures”, she was anything BUT a patient teacher.
I started my lessons with her, twice a week, at the end of September 2020. I would leave from work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, exhausted as could be, and somehow found my way to her tiny apartment in Lambrate, only to be scolded constantly about everything I was saying wrong.
By our 8th class, I was fed up with her attitude. She knew fully well what my background was—a foreigner with basic Italian, looking to improve her conversational skills. Yet this girl could not hold back on her attitude, telling me I needed to study and memorize as if I was taking lessons from her for an upcoming exam.
Missy. I came to Italy for what I thought would be an enriching experience. Not to be repirmanded by a impaziente brat like you.
I took to Instagram to “clap back” at her so to speak, and I was met with numerous comments in support of my situation, with commenters agreeing that this so-called “tutor” had no right to act the way she did. That teachers—especially foreign language teachers—should show kindness, patience, and empathy.
A fellow expat helped me connect with M., a British woman who spoke fluent Italian. I thought perhaps taking lessons with someone who could understand my background better was worth a shot. And given that COVID lockdowns were reinstated in late October 2020, our bi-weekly Skype sessions were appropriate with the new mandates.
M knew that my weakest link was with speaking. A couple of lessons in, we would devote the first half hour of lessons to just having a conversation, which I appreciated at first, but then found mentally draining.
Going into 2021, I was feeling extremely exhausted. Extremely depressed. There were other factors in my life that were taking precedence, and trying to hold onto Italian lessons when I felt like my foundation was crumbling was unbearable.
Those short-lived moments of September-October 2020 seemed like a distant memory once 2021 hit…
I remember not signing into a Saturday morning class at the end of March 2021. I was feeling frustrated and angered by the events that had played out by the end of that work week. I couldn’t shake away the emotional turmoil I was feeling.
M. had called wondering why I hadn’t signed in for class that morning, and I felt bad for not giving her enough notice, knowing that she was taking time out of her day too. But I had to be honest with myself, and I left her an audio message with uncontrollable sobs that intercalated with my shaky words.
I wasn’t sure if this was worth it. If I could stick it out here. And if I couldn’t…what was the point of learning this language?
She was kind in her response, and empathized with my situation with sincerity. She knew my desire to address some major factors in my life, and understood that in order for me to do that, lessons would have to take a backseat.
Once I acknowledged that I needed this hiatus in order to tackle the issues that seemed to be clouding my life, I felt okay. Italian would certainly be more fun to learn once I was in a better state physically, mentally, and emotionally.
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My goals have changed since that first Italian class in December 2018. Life’s twists and turns brought me to Italy, but the experiences that followed have tested my patience, my strength, my confidence, and most importantly, my humility.
It depends on the situation, but I have accepted that there are times I need to be kind to myself on this journey. If I need to recruit a native speaker to help me with governmental paperwork, I don’t feel guilty if they end up making numerous phone calls on behalf of me, but I still do get frustrated if someone cuts to English with me if I feel like I’m doing okay.
I’m still waiting on a lot of things. Opportunities that will perhaps push me to practice Italian more. Situations that present themselves as worth learning Italian for. But until that happens, I’ve allowed myself to “take a break” from actively learning Italian, even as I continue to live and work here.
Somewhere up in those Italian hills…
And for those that doubt my language learning journey or question my why, I must say this: there is nothing wrong in retreating to the language that gives you the words to express the deepest feelings in your soul. There is nothing wrong in seeking comfort in the language that gives you your voice, while trying to understand your purpose in a new world.
It’s late June as I start writing this post, and I have now been to more places in Italy (and even Switzerland!) since I last complained about lockdowns 😅
After Bellagio, I took a little break from day trips to reconvene and figure out what to do next. I knew June 2nd was coming up and since it was a holiday in Italy, I would have the day off and definitely wanted to dedicate it to a day trip.
The day ended up being dedicated to Bologna, a story for another day, but before and after Bologna, I was able to still venture out and feed my exploratory cravings.
The convenient thing about having your “home base” be north central Italy is that travel by car or by train to nearby locales isn’t too arduous (as long as we clarify the definition of nearby). Day trips could even just be afternoon trips, depending on what you want to see and how much energy you have 😅.
I took two such “afternoon” trips from Como with my boyfriend, and thanks to his car, we were able to start our “trips” as late as 3pm and get back around 6 or 7pm! It is completely doable to see the best of Monza, Italy and Lugano, Switzerland within a few hours.
💛 Monza, Italy 💛
Technically, if I had left for Monza from North Milan, it would have only taken a handful of minutes by public transit versus an almost hour drive from Como. But I thought spending a sunny Sunday afternoon outside with my boyfriend scootering around a new city sounded a whole lot better than walking around alone.
Como to Monza – a little under an hour by car
Trying to find a parking spot near Parco di Monza brought on a minor headache, but we found a spot in a residential area that was actually alongside a walking path. Once we got the scooters out, we blasted onto the path and made our way toward the prime destination of the “city”.
It didn’t take us long to run into a swarm of locals and tourists in front of Villa Reale di Monza. We eventually had to get off our scooters and walk amongst the crowds, so we decided to go inside the courtyard to get a closer look.
I think under normal circumstances, you can go inside the palace for exhibitions and shows, but it seemed as though plenty of people were happy enough with just strolling outside and soaking in post-lockdown sunshine.
After I got my share of pics, we proceeded to the park, where it turned immensely cool temperature-wise thanks to the towering trees and their overgrown leaves—it was literally a forest.
And while it was lovely to see (and feel) such cool, green scenery, it made for awfully bumpy paths that were not friendly to the scooters 😅. Still, it wasn’t too long before we reached friendlier roads.
Even though I was scootering with the BF, I imagined that this park would be the perfect place for mid-distance or even long runs. I think from top-to-bottom it is about 3 miles, so loops would definitely need to be considered!
But is that such a mundane thing if said loops included loops around Azienda Agricola Mulino San Giorgio ?
Basically, animal heaven??
I basically came to a screeching halt when I saw the donkeys.
Being the huge animal lover that I am, I immediately parked my scooter and ran over to where every munchkin under ten years old was lined up petting the donkeys. I wanted to join in on the fun too 😂!
I picked the least-friendly donkey to (try to) pet. Still, my heart was full 🧡.
And it overflowed once I realize we were at the border of what looked to be a petting zoo! We took a detour, and I got my fill of cows, pigs, goats, baby horses, chickens, ducks, rabbits…
A LITERAL QUEEN
Sleeping piggy
It was difficult to pull myself away from these beautiful creatures, but the boy and I headed onwards to the furthest we could go on the path. A couple years ago, I remember watching the documentary Breaking2, which documented the journey of marathon’s running elite to break two hours in the marathon. The special race was apparently held at the Monza racetrack, which is at the north end of the park!
I thought we would be able to come across it (and perhaps enter to take a look on the inside…stepping on the same path that Kipchoge, Tadese and Desisa raced on), but unfortunately it was fenced off. And by the time we reached it, we realized the park was going to close soon—at a relatively early time for Italians, 7pm!
Monza Racetrack 👀
Getting back to the car was an easy endeavor. Once we were out of the park, we were able to directly get back on the path we took at the start. We could have taken a detour into the city center, but I was close to empty energy-wise, and I figured the city center wasn’t exactly as much of a “must-see” as Parco di Monza was.
Villa Reale di Monza is very gorgeous though!
💛 Lugano, Switzerland 💛
Driving up to Switzerland from Como is actually shorter in comparison to driving to Monza. It seems counter-intuitive…driving to another country takes less time? 😂. Technically, I suppose it takes around the same time, but driving up on the weekends eliminates the traffic brought on by Italians driving across the border to get to work!
Once you get past border control (which isn’t a big deal, they normally stop cars at random), the drive becomes more beautiful. At one point, you have to take a bridge over Lake Lugano which offers some gorgeous views. Don’t have any here for ya, but once parked and in the city center, the view is just as good, if not better.
Right next to this view is the entrance to Parco Ciani, a beautifully groomed park with a winding path and sights all-around.
Just for ducks 🦆
This statue is an entire MOOD, and often mine 😂:
Quick search on Google indicates its Socrates…
Further along the path, there was a wooden deck area where, apparently, swans like to take rest or swim near. I was looking forward to the sight, but only saw too many half-naked humans…pity.
No swans in sight 🙁
Away from the water, the temperature started to feel a lot warmer and unbearable. It was, the middle of June after all. After a certain point, the streets begin to look monotonous and empty, and that’s probably because Lugano is more active during the work week.
Some buildings still kept their charm though.
Tesla even managed to squeeeeeze into the aesthetic, and not the other way around.
Tesla showroom in Lugano, Switzerland
I learned that they had to knock down the wall on the side of the building just to put a Tesla inside, and then rebuild it back up again! For test drives, they have a single red car parked in the back 😂.
Closer to the city center, there were more buildings to marvel at and photograph:
A bar for dogs! Wasn’t as popular as one would think!
Old-style church
Classy door decor
For some reason, this Banque de la Suisse italienne really caught my eye.
All of this was seen and covered by foot within two hours! Of course if you want to make time for aperitivo and swimming and gelato and shopping, you could easily spend a full day here.
But, even though I was tempted by this *pricey* Subway offer, I was content with having dinner at home, after a pleasantly exhausting afternoon of travel!
Remember $5 footlong meals? Non-existent. Double for a half sandwich and a drink and cookie 😧
Are you a fan of short day trips or even afternoon trips?
