When the train stopped at the little railway station of Stresa, we were supposed to walk down to the lake shore to find a pier, in order to take a boat which would have taken us to the very small island, which would be our “home” for a few days.

Theoretically it would had been a very easy task to fulfil, if we had not found ourselves walking in the pouring rain, or to be more precise a form of deluge.

When two middle-aged travellers arrive at a quite unknown place with baggage in such heavy rain, there are only two possible attitudes.

Either they start feeling miserable, unlucky and ready to catch all kinds of cold, rheumatism and arthritis and desperately look for a nonexistent taxi, or they simply decide to find the whole matter funny and bravely start to walk at random downhill without paying too much attention to the rain, which makes them soaked wet in a nanosecond.

We chose the second option.

After various secondary vicissitudes due to our total lack of knowledge of the place, we managed to find a pier,but then discovered with amused amazement, causing an almost hysterical laugh, that we had walked in vain for two kilometres in the wrong direction along the lake and we had reached a pier, which was not the main one, but belonged to a hamlet of Stresa.

Anyway, since the Goddess of Luck kisses the brave ones, we were on time to take the last boat to our island.

Finding our hotel was not difficult, since the island is only 400 metres long.

My room had a terrace with a breathtaking view.

After changing from my wet cloths into something dry I felt so optimistic that I had the impression the rain was ending and the sky looked a little clearer....