THAT’S AMORE
Lush green valleys, mysterious lakes, and eternally snow-capped mountain peaks passing us by as we make our way through the Swiss- and Italian Alps. Under frail moonshine, the romantic silhouette of the tiny Lago di Como town, Cernobbio, reveals itself. Dimly lit, in the corner of the central square, is Harry’s Bar. Tiny but full of life; dandy-dressed locals entangled in loud and lively conversations and wonderfully scented Italian dishes handed out by passionate waiters, all framed by live piano music, adding that homely touch. After a lovely dinner we step outside and inhale the crispy, fresh mountain air. The sound of the ever-running fountain, unchanged for centuries and gracing the atmosphere with a timeless elegance, carries wide and far. No need to throw in a coin; it is magical as it is, and just standing here is a wish in and of itself.
The shade of the perfectly symmetrically lined-up cabana’s is as much appreciated as the served cappuccino. We’re at Alpemare, just outside of Forte Dei Marmi. Only leaving our luxurious beach tent to play with the lazy Mediterranean waves or for an extensive lunch between the tiny turquoise beach cabins. If you’re lucky, you might get a glimpse of owner Andrea Bocelli and hear his iconic voice softly humming when having quality time with his family. For the best gelato, it’s off to Il Principi, in the heart of the tiny town, hidden between every imaginable designer store. We drape ourselves onto their cozy terrace and admire the relentless procession of stylish people passing by while enjoying the homemade ice cream.
A flashy red vespa takes us through the ravishing hills of Moltepulciano. It’s postcard perfection, Tuscany at its best. Over a glass of Brunello we soak in all the beauty nature has to offer when they catch my eye. Illuminated by the last golden rays, they decorate the falling evening like glittering confetti. A flock of mayflies ending their only day given in a festive way, where better than on a sun-drenched Tuscan Hill, amid ancient olive trees and endless wine ranks?
Closing our day with a late-evening stroll through the old town of Arrezo. Peaking through a slightly ajar church door, we are blown away by a voice so fragile yet so powerful. A little nun, barely one and a half meters tall, expanding her voice beyond church walls. For a brief moment, her angelic sound picks us up, and with our eyes closed, we surf the waves of her voice. Slowly darkness has filled up the tiny streets and to stay in higher spheres we head to nearby hotel Continentale. Nothing fancy, but on their rooftop terrace under the worldly ceiling, the constellations are so near, they seem within reach, so those who belong to the starry night can join us. Italy, a salute to life.
TEXT BY AFRA RE
