Lago di Como

Whenever I told people I was going to Italy for three weeks, whether they'd been there or not, they all advised me to, "Eat lots of gelato." Apparently, it's just what you do in Italy. I did, despite my dairy allergy, and I can't think of a better place to clutch my stomach than sitting on a bench by the shore of Lake Como.

If you've read Mark Twain's, "The Innocent's Abroad," you may remember his description of the glacial lake, or if you've seen Star War's "Attack of the Clones," the marriage setting of Anakin Skywalker may ring a bell. But like so many woman before me, I went to Lake Como with my eyes on the Alps above me, while also scanning the beaches for George Clooney, who has a villa somewhere in the area. I was particularly on the lookout in Bellagio, the namesake town for the Vegas hotel, because of my associations with Ocean's Twelve (also with scenes at Lake Como).

After a beautiful drive through southern France, it had been about eight hours in a very full van when we careened around one last hairpin turn for our first view of the lake at sunset. I was still floating in a reverie of euphoria when we inched up to the narrow neighborhood where our house for the week would be, just down the hill from this lovely chapel.

Our side of the lake seemed to be the shore where wealthy Italians settled down to grow grapes and keep their nice red and orange houses freshly spackled. I had to make intentional mental notes about certain buildings or I would have gotten lost in the tiny alleys. Everything seemed to be built into a zigzagged hill, which gave a nod to the tiny cars and flat heels everyone had. There was one tiny, disorganized supermarket in our town, Lenno, which made more sense when I found out that the population is just 1,800. Lakeside restaurants served a dizzying variety of pizza with ample fish options to boot. But for dessert? You got it. Gelato.