Summary
Breakfasted at our hotel then took a nice long walk before the crowds arrived. Scott went into the newer part of town to do some shopping while I scoped out lunch and dinner possibilities. This being the penultimate day of our trip and seeing as how I had been extremely disciplined in my food choices (pre-diabetes-wise) so far, I decided to say ‘f*** it’ and do my version of Girl Gone Wild (sugar-wise). To that end, I had a lovely local rosé with my lunch for the first time and gelato for dessert. This necessitated an afternoon nap. Chilled in our room after napping. Before dinner I had my first cocktail in six months, a Negroni. This resulted in me spilling half of it all over the table, much to the displeasure our waiters. I’m not sure how well that “wild thing” is working out for me.
Details
Today’s our full day in Sirmione and our last ‘real’ vacation day. Tomorrow we drive back to Milan (well, to Linate, of one Milan’s three airports) and give back our car. No big plans for today here, other than doing some suitcase gift shopping.
We eat breakfast at the hotel, downstairs. It’s included. The only question is: do we sit indoors or outside. The beautiful weather, sunshine and lake view coax us out to the open patio.
As soon as we sit the birds arrive. Most are the cute, small kind but one bigger creature, definitely descended from the dinosaurs, lands on our table. Karen waves her hand and scares him all the way to the back of the chair on which I plan to sit. Another wave to shoo the intruder apparently scares the shit out of it, and the big glob of bird poop slowly oozes down the back of my chair, now my would be chair. Inside we go!
The hot coffee we ordered at breakfast was indeed coffee but it was anything but hot. Warm, maybe (if you’re generous). I’m not big on confrontation and so sip the lukewarm liquid. Karen asks for coffee that’s actually hot. “Hot?” she asks as I test the replacement pitcher. “Warmer”.
As such, as we’re on our post-breakfast walk we head for a café for some real hot coffee. Ah…
Our walk after breakfast shows the town less full than yesterday but filling quickly. Sirmione is on a point at the end of a spit of land, sort of like Bellagio, so we would reach water in almost any direction we might walk. At the water we see people swimming and preparing to swim. We see people lying in the sun, and we see lots of people walking, heading somewhere, presumably, or maybe like us, just walking.
With regards to our “before you go” checklist, we’ve been, so far, unsuccessful in our hunt for some particular suitcase gifts. Karen continues her walk and I catch a bus off this spit of land and into the less touristy part of town. I’m following ChatGPT’s advice as it sounds pretty confident on where I should go. Yep, nope. Closed, non-existent, doesn’t carry it. Thanks ChatGPT. One more recommended place to check. It’s a shop back closer to our hotel, a 45-minute walk away. I could take the bus again but walking is supposedly good for you. At the last suggested store? Nope. Nada.
I hook back up with Ms. Karen. She’s located recommended places to have lunch and somewhere else for dinner. We’re quickly seated for lunch and order. As is my custom, I include a beer for me (of course) and Karen, surprisingly, orders a half-liter of pink wine. She’s been good and restrained the whole trip so now she’s cutting loose, just once.
While we await our lunch I drink my beer and gain courage to converse with the two Italian girls/ladies recently installed at the other end of our table. After hearing them order, I lean over and earnestly ask if they speak English. Yes, some, is the reply with some trepidation. I tell them that their skill in speaking Italian is amazingly good, impeccable. (They’re native Italian speakers, of course). We all laugh and spend the rest of lunch talking about all kinds of things. Great fun.
Post-lunch Karen continues her “enough of being good” craze and takes me to the best gelateria in town (there are a zillion of them). She’s been hankering to try a particular dark-dark chocolate. I order a piccolo coppeta and indicate the first flavor: dark-dark chocolate. I go to specify the second flavor (you only normally get two for a small cup) and the lady behind the counter explains that here, the small cup only gets one flavor. More for Karen.
Back at the room, full of sugar from the half liter of wine and the gelato, Karen lays down for a long mid-day nap.
At dinner time we get prettied up for our last nice dinner of the trip and head out. The owner warmed up to Karen earlier when she made the reservation. He again gives her a warm welcome and a nice table for two.
Still on her “screw sugar” kick she (and I) order a Negroni, a quintessential drink in this part of the world. They do a hell of a job at this restaurant with that cocktail, for sure the best I’ve had on this trip. Not having had a lot of hard liquor in the past half-year Karen’s quickly giddy. We talk and review our great trip. Karen gesticulates and in the process spills most of her Negroni onto the table cloth. We use her napkin to clean it up, as best as can, while the waiter and owner hurry over with more absorbent cloths. We get moved to a new table and Karen perceives that the owner is no longer enamored of her.
Dinner is, like the Negroni, delicious. Afterwards we do more walking and reminiscing about the trip. We figure when we need to be up and gone for the day tomorrow. And we remind each other that we need to say “Rabbit, rabbit” upon first waking, as is our habit. It supposedly brings good luck and we’d say it’s worked for us so far.
Photos