It was a sunny afternoon in Domaso, Lago di Como, also known as Lake Como, Italy. The wind blew through my sail, and we continued to cross towards the source of the wind. This was the 3rd day of our Italy vacation, and we were finally getting into the swing of things. We usually go windsurfing once a year, in summer. This summer, as last summer, we went to Italy. Our accomadations this year were a slight improvement over last year, and by slight I meant a lot. As usual, we didn’t have air conditioning, but I couldn’t help but notice the absence of bugs and dirt, a constant companion the last time we were there. The cockroach count had decreasd by 90%. (Still too high!)
Our first day of windsurfing was as exciting as always. The first day is generally spent figuring out how good you are and what you still need to learn. Since we had been there last year, it was time to discover exactly how much we remembered. The good news was that we still knew how to do basic maneuvering. The bad news that we didn’t remember anything else. It turns out windsurfing once a year for a week is not sufficient if one wants to get good. Luckily, we were doing this for fun, and since a professional career was not in any of our future plans, relearning previous lessons was not a problem for us.
As the week went on, we continued learning, and practicing, our windsurfing. By the second (third) day, we could easily cross towards the wind, a fun activity because going into the wind leads to not only the headwind, but also the normal wind, blowing through your hair. This feels amazing, and although it is the slowest direction to go relative to the wind, it feels fastest due to the huge amount of wind in your face. With enough time, we even perfected our technique for the art of falling. This was essential, since one needs to be able to untangle themselves from the sail or risk drowning.
When we were not windsurfing, we were either resting, as windsurfing is a pretty tiring exercise, or eating, another amazing attraction of Domaso. Since Domaso is not as well known other Italian tourist traps, the food there is much more authentic. This is great news for eating, but bad news for ordering, since the restraunts are so authentic, they don’t even speak a language other than Italian. We had pizza every night, ordered by the point-a-finger-at-a-random-
On Saturday morning, it was finally time for our shortened stay in Italy to end. However, we were set to have one last adventure. Due to traffic conditions, we avoided the single underground tunnel that led from Italy to Switzerland, and instead drove back over a mountain pass. This was an amazing experience. We stopped at the top of the pass, had an espresso, then walked down to a mountain lake (created by the most natural of means, a dam) and watched the water. The water was perfectly still, and one could hear cowbells echoing from almost a mile across the lake. Then we got back into the car, cursed the dangerous drivers who didn’t yield on narrow mountain roads, and made our way home.
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