Bergamo, Desenzano and Sirmione, 11.5.-14.5.

In Bergamo the hotel is much closer to the station, and has an elevator and a decent breakfast. We leave our stuff at the hotel and go check out the city. It looks sleepy in a way that suggests that three days here might be too much.

There is a big street that goes from the station to the cable car that goes straight up to the old town (or high town as they call it due to the fact that it is on top of a hill). It takes twenty minutes or so to walk to the cable car; in that time the street changes at least three names.

The old town is pretty, and pretty small. Does not take long to go all around it. The main square is Piazza Vecchia, it looks nice and contains a pleasant-looking fountain, a number of cafes where capuccino is normally-priced at 2.50 or 3 (and everything else is also priced accordingly), a beautiful tower and no trace of pigeons of pigeon-feeders. We decide to get on top of the tower, and, as my luck normally has it, the elevator is broken but they still charge us the 2 euro per person. We walk up the stairs, with Benka running lightly ahead of me and insulting my physical condition and even parentage all the way up. Yeah, I know I am my father's daughter, and whose fault is that supposed to be? ("Uhm. I guess mine," - says Benka.)

The view is really great. After we've had enough we go down and have some coffee in one of the cafes. In some countries when you order coffee with ice cream you get a cup of cold or hot coffee which either has ice cream mixed into it or floating in it; in some countries you get an ice cream with a bit of coffee poured over it; apparently in Italy you can have either.

We take another cable car to San Vigilio castle. There are castle walls filled with earth (or built around a hill, who knows) from where you can see lovely views, but no building as such. We condemn the lack of the actual castle but linger there for a while.

We figure we have to go somewhere else for a day and go to Desenzano di Garda. It turns out to be a very pleasant vacation resort. From there we take a boat to Sirmione, which turns out to be an even nicer vacation resort with a real castle. We go to the castle and on top of it. Climbing the tower the day before has done me good, and Benka does not insult my physical condition quite as much. It's a great sunny day, too.

We go to some restaurant outside and order two seafood salads and one caprese (tomato and mozzarella) salad to share. They bring us The Mother Of All Mozzarellas. Later they turn out not to have a bathroom and try to explain themselves in German.

In the evening in Bergamo all the sandwich places are closed so we get a takeout pizza from some halal pizza place. Don't know about their halality, what with all the ham, but the pizza is good. I, on the other hand, am not feeling very good due to too much sun and dehydration and have to listen to Benka's lecture about the young generation (in particularly myself) having no endurance as opposed to herself. Eventually tea and pizza revive me.

The TV has only one English channel, CNN. The volcano in Indonesia is still about to erupt and Benka is impatient. The Palestinian leadership in the person of Ismail Haniya is still proud and free and won't cave in to any infidel demands (but please give generously). The Palestinian people are still complaining about having no money and having to deal with the lessons of objective reality, the lesson being that if most of your country's income comes from foreign donations then electing a guy who wants to piss off the donors might not have been such a bright idea after all. Heh. One week with Benka exposes me to more TV than the whole earlier of the year.

The next day we just hang out in Bergamo, mostly in the lower town but also in the upper for a while. Benka tries to purchase pantyhose for grandma and fails miserably since grandma does not care that much for light blue fishnets with red stripes. Wonder where Italian grandmas buy theirs.

We see a restaurant that offers something called Nablus Koktail. I scan the menu for Molotov cocktail as well but no luck.

Venice was full of Russians. Bergamo is a lot less so but there are a few.