Come sta, Como?

OK, so I swore that this blog would be about stuff that matters, art, fashion etc. But I wanted to blog a bit while I’m residing in Northern Italy. I’ll try and keep it professional. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna turn all Cory Kennedy on you and publish my whole life story.

So, first time in Italy. Living up to the clichés so far. Rude people, crazy traffic, beautiful lakes, good food, wine, espresso, weird opening times and lots of energy. Only unorthodox thing: The weather. Today it’s been pouring with thunder and lightning. And when I say pouring, I mean POURING. Therefore didn’t get to do much sightseeing, but managed to find my way down to the city centre (it’s quite small), hiding under a Hotel Como umbrella. So much for pretending to be a local. When I came down to the piazza in front of the church Duomo, my hat almost blew off, and it felt like being in a movie. I run into the nearest bar and ordered a coffee. It was obviously the hangout-spot for old Italians. Not much to do in Como when bad weather, I discovered. Hopefully it’s better tomorrow, so I can take a boat trip on the lake and hike up the hillside to look at Verdi’s old villa. Perhaps Versace’s as well. After all, Como is the town where Kennedy romanced Marilyn Monroe, Oceans 12 was filmed and Brangelina were rumoured to get married.

Note: All nationalities are totally living up to the stereotypes. I’ve mentioned the Italians. Last night I sat next to the whiniest German family ever. They complained about everything from the wine to the food, and didn’t even talk to each other. All the while sitting outside at a nice restaurant next to a beautiful lake in Northern Italy… Today: Americans. Two girls sitting next to me at a restaurant, asking all these difficult questions to the waiter, in English of course. (Not that I speak Italian, but at least I don’t expect them to know all the English words either) The waiter had to fetch some rice to show them what it looked like. The girl then exclaimed, “It’s different in America”, and started explaining what it was like there. Like anyone cared. I got a bit embarrassed, and had to look down. But then again, observing other people is the best thing about travelling alone. And I’m sure I live up to the Scandinavian stereotype as well. Tall, silent, arrogant, right?