Lake Garda Through Rose Tinted Glasses

Whimsy on a Wednesday bringing you wine tasting, wandering Italian shores, and the accidental discovery of a photography series inspired by looking at the world through a glass of rosé.

I’ve not been whimsying because I went to Italy and I totally immersed myself in the lemony loveliness of it all. Even though I am obsessed by imagery, light, and the way a moment looks, I tried not to document everything because sometimes I just want to be there. To savour it.

These days I tend to go for the less pedestrian shots as I have so many of the standard issue vistas from everywhere, but they still get to you. That moon shimmering on the lake, the old door in the ancient building, The cluster of lemony lemons. I’ll just take this one…

I love Italy, I think it is my favourite country although I have favourite parts of all the places I visit. In Italy I feel like I become a different being. I look olive. I smell of toasted sunshine. My hair is soft. Everything meanders. My pace changes, my mind slows, I taste things better. I fit in with the essence of it all.

Italy is pretty and historic. The old hugs the new. The food is exquisite, the wine is nectar. It never gets tiresome. Every time I go, I fall in love with it all over again.

It started in Verona where Giulietta lived

Of course…

I’ve not been here for over a decade though it doesn’t seem that long. Last time I went I wrote a letter to Juliet, rubbed her magic boob, and went to see the Aida opera in the beautiful Arena di Verona.

This time we just meandered, remembered, enjoyed the taste if it all. One thing I will say, is that Italy have come up with a brilliant straw. As I sipped my limoncello spritz and imagined centurions guarding the amphitheatre, I realised the straw was a giant tube of pasta. Like they forgot to chop the penne up.

‘Look at that!’ I cried! ‘Genius.’

A change of Sceno in Bardolino

The next day we went off to Bardolino. What a beautiful little town. Famous for a decent red.

Here, in our wonderful family hotel, we met a lot of super friendly people. I wondered if there must be something in the water. Guests and staff were giving us tips and places to see and all manner of lovely tidbits. We walked by the lake along the beautiful promenade where baby ducklings waddled and people strolled hand in hand to dinner or rode bikes to different towns. It was all very convivial.

The little streets were filled with Italian delicatessen’s, cafe’s, restaurants, beautiful pottery and insanely expensive clothes shops.

The Italians were keen to make sure you know where the lake Garda started because you might not spot it, what with it being a tiny 143 square miles and the largest lake in Italy.

Faded fresco’s on the buildings told stories of yore, so typically Italian, and little churches each boasted outstanding painted ceilings. I lit a candle. My mum lit one and dropped it on someone else’s and they both fused together. I told her to lay off the Aperol spritz. She bought me a Jesus prayer in Italian. I like a biblical treat. I don’t know why but I do. I used to have plasters with pictures of Jesus on and I swear to God they healed you quicker.

We went to a fabulous restaurant that was recommended where we encountered the smallest waitress in the world… Perhaps this was Wonderland?

The house vino was a fresh Bardolino. How dreadful. Drink me, it said.

We took a boat to Sermione, a pedestrian peninsula south of the lake. It was very beautiful but too busy. Here, they have re-purposed the Fiat 500 into a rather spanking boat. This could be the new James Bond.

We decided to go wine tasting, given that we were in the ideal place to do such a thing. During one of our dinners we tried a rather spectacular blush from Villa Cordevigo so decided to go there for our experience.

What a beautiful place. It made me want to be excessively rich. We were treated like people who knew about things. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, learning about grapes, drinking wine, and pairings, and drinking wine. The lady who taught us had a wineology and had studied grapes and soil for three years. I was most envious of her position. What a lovely job. I thought that right up until I’d downed three glasses and decided it would be much better to stay there and eat and working with wine might be a disaster.

The on site Michelin star restaurant was closed that day, thank God, because I would’ve thrown caution to the wind and ended up with no holiday money. We ate at their other restaurant which was still very fancy and run by the same head chef. We sat outside in the sunshine overlooking the vineyards and I felt like I was in the midst of a Tuscan romantic novel.

The staff were so nice and gracious that it actually made me feel guilty. It’s the sort of place where the waiting staff zip around and before you know it they’ve dressed you in a linen serviette, changed your cutlery, poured you a perfect glass of wine without you seeing a thing. If they were in a line up you wouldn’t have a clue which one was yours.

Let me tell you now that I ate the best bruschetta I have ever tasted in my whole life. Life.

The bread was lightly toasted in olive oil and warm, its underside spread with homemade pesto. The reddest tomatoes were still warm from the sun and seasoned to perfection. The burrata cheese could almost have passed for a poached egg it was so soft and creamy. It was so good that it was the first thing I replicated for a family lunch on my return.

The day before we left we all got caught in a horrendous storm and I became the victim of the most expensive umbrella and a plastic poncho that made me look like I’d been wrapped in clingfilm. That’s when style went right out of the window, but from my vantage point I did get one of my best photographs.

Bardolino Shower

Which has now prompted the photographic series -Life Through Rose Tinted Glasses. Because life is too short not to be whimsical.

You can view them here