Grace Kelly’s mini-me kingdom, Julie Andrews’ hills so alive and a charming inn with a view
July 28, 2002 | 12:00am
After two days in Roquefort les Pins, it was time to leave Provence and get to the main destination of our trip – Italy.
We left Provence with a heavy heart as we all felt that there were still a lot more things to do, see, and experience (especially since the women spent so much of our precious time in Provence shopping) but the time to leave had come. The Auberge du Columbier is aptly named after the doves (colombes) that have successfully colonized every branch of every tree at the auberge. On the day of our departure, all the doves convened and decided to give us a proper send-off by dropping huge globs of dove doo-doo on our van (with some of the doo-doo spilling on the passengers). There was so much of it our dark gray car turned white!
On our way to the Italian border, I decided to take the Grande Corniche, which is the highest grade of highway on the mountains skirting the sea so that my passengers could take in the views of the Riviera and the Mediterranean. I would then take us to Eze where we could take our lunch.
However our plans came to naught when we came upon a small park perched along the Grande Corniche with the spectacular views which I wanted my family to enjoy. The minute we saw that there were picnic tables in the park, out came the tablecloths, the plates, the cutlery, the glasses, the wine, the bread, the cheese, the olives, the cured meats, the cherries, the pears, the peaches and voila! We had an impromptu feast with the riches of the Mediterranean at our table. It was a cloudless summer day with just enough wind to drive away the heat. All this, together with the matchless view of the Cote d’Azur, made our day and was a fitting farewell to Provence.
After lunch, we whiled the time away walking around the park, sitting lazily and gazing at the mesmerizing view and napping while the birds chirped in the trees all around us. Then it was off to Eze.
Eze is a village perched in the mountains overlooking the Mediterranean. The village has been in existence since the 14th century and fell into disrepair until it was rediscovered by the many artists who flocked to the south of France. The village has since been restored and the flower-bedecked buildings now house galleries, shops and crafts workshops. It is much like the other perched villages of Provence except that, in the case of Eze, it has a breathtaking view and it is perched so precariously that it can give the visitor vertigo and make him feel that one misstep will send him plummeting into the Mediterranean. Of course, this was all lost on the women who spent most of the time shopping for souvenirs and wandering about amid the fragrances and toiletries of L’Occitane.
On the way to the Italian border, we passed by the principality of Monaco, otherwise known as the kingdom of Grace Kelly.
Monaco is the mini-me of European monarchies. This postage stamp-size country has a "me-too" feel to it which is hard to miss when touring its miniature version of a royal palace with its miniature state rooms and miniature throne room and its mainly second-rate art. In fact, I was taken aback while touring the palace when I chanced upon a painting of Grace Kelly painted by Ralph Cowan. This is the same Ralph Cowan who gained a commission from Imelda Marcos by stoking her royal fantasies. I don’t know where they are now but Cowan’s portraits of the Marcoses displayed them as our own Filipino royal family resplendent in their monarchical splendor – bejewelled, besashed and enthroned – with the heavens opening up and bestowing its blessings on them, as was only fitting for those who had the mandate of heaven. Seeing this portrait in the Grimaldi palace of Monaco set me to wondering about Grace Kelly’s taste. But, no matter. She is dead and gone, and buried in Monaco’s cathedral. And despite the me-too quality of the place, the Grimaldis’ fortune is by no means a miniature one and they are well accepted by all the other European monarchies, with the possible exception of Stephanie whose white-trash antics are too embarrassing to disregard.
We were now on our way to Varese, a small town in the Lake District of northern Italy. Varese is about an hour north of Milan and is close to the Lago di Como, Lago Maggiore and Lago di Lugano. None of us had been here before and we had no idea what awaited us in Varese. We knew only that my son Diego had a friend named Maurice who lived there and that the sole purpose of our visit was for the two friends to get together. Otherwise, Varese would be a rest stop with no definite schedule to follow.
True to our dictum of staying in out of the way places, we stayed at the Albergo Madonnina, which was located in the small town of Cantello outside of Varese. The Albergo was described in my reference book as follows:
"The Madonnina owes its reputation mainly to its restaurant, specially known for spring menus featuring fresh asparagus. Each season, meals are built around a theme based on local produce. This former coaching inn, covered and surrounded by lush vegetation, also has a few rooms... The decoration is simple and elegant, which nicely sets off the architecture of the place. The amenities are very good, particularly the bathrooms."
We arrived at the Albergo Madonnina at half past nine in the evening. Fortunately, the inn’s restaurant was still open and we were able to eat very well. After dinner, our teenagers insisted on spending the night out with Maurice and they ended up staying out all night and spending the next day asleep until noon. This left us adults no choice but to spend the day exploring the town without the children. We didn’t get very far in our exploration though.
Our day started with the perennial search for a 24-hour laundromat. No luck as usual but we did chance upon an iper-mercato (hypermart) on the outskirts of Varese and decided to check if there was a laundromat inside. There wasn’t one that was open but we did get a pleasant surprise when we explored the iper-mercato. It was very much like your Costco or S&R Price but with one very pleasant exception: they had a food hall, which was like Fortnum & Mason, Fauchon, Zabars, Trader Joe’s and Olivers all rolled into one. There was a huge selection of wines, cheeses, breads, processed and fresh meats, poultry, olives, fruits, vegetables and desserts. This was heaven for foodies like us and my sister decided that we were to celebrate Father’s Day by splurging on these goodies and having a picnic at our rooms at the Albergo Madonnina. As my wife is fond of saying, life should be a movable feast.
You may wonder why anyone would want to have a picnic in a stuffy hotel room but the Albergo’s staff gave us a wonderful setup, which was great for occasions such as this. We had three large rooms that shared an enormous sitting room and an even larger balcony (perfect for drying laundry) overlooking the gardens of the Albergo. We therefore had what amounted to a sizable three-bedroom apartment, furnished with antiques, all to ourselves. All this for only US$90 per room per night inclusive of breakfast.
So, we got back to our apartment, woke up the kids and had another wonderful impromptu meal, the remnants of which lasted us until Venice. After lunch, we roused the children and drove to the closest lake, which was Lake Lugano.
Lake Lugano is in Switzerland. Fortunatley our hotel was only 15 minutes away from the Swiss border. The drive from Varese to Lugano is a wonderful trip full of majestic Alpine scenery. glacier-fed lakes and wide open spaces. The only thing missing was Julie Andrews running up and down the hills singing The Sound of Music with a troop of nuns singing How do you Solve a Problem like Maria? Some of us were tempted to do just that but the idea of six addled Asians gamboling in the hills singing their heads off and making like the family Von Trapp would have been an absurdity and absurdity was not on the menu for the evening. However, it did happen to me on a trip to Austria 32 years ago.
My parents and I took my maternal grandmother to Austria as a special treat for her. You see, my grandmother was a truly dedicated and avid fan of The Sound of Music. She saw the movie countless times. She would enter the movie theater in the morning with her lunchbox and leave after dusk. She would do the same thing for days on end. When we finally got to Austria and arrived at the mountains of Salzburg, she screamed, "Stop the car! Stop the car!" and jumped out. The minute she touched the ground we were treated to the spectacle of my dear 70-year-old grandmother transformed into Maria von Trap and lustily singing:
"The hills are aliiiive with the sound of muuuusiccc
With songs they have sunnnggghhh for a thousand yeeeeaaarrrs."
After an early dinner by the lake in the quiet, scenic town of Lugano, it was back to Varese for us. Just in time to do the laundry (sigh) and get ready for the next day’s trip to Venice. My son had seen his friend, we had spent a good day of eating and sightseeing and had gotten enough rest to get us ready to hit the road again and to face the adventures that lay ahead. Unfortunately some of these adventures would sour our impressions of Italy.
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