Riflessioni (English: Musings)

I posted a bit about this on social media, so it might be old news, but I spent the day last week in Bolsena, a lakeside town on Lago di Bolsena, Italy's fifth largest lake. It's volcanic, so it's very deep (I think 266 feet is deep), very round, very big, and has black sand. After all these years, I had never explored any part of Bolsena but the old city. This time I walked down to the lake where it was another world. Much like Capodimonte, another Bolsena lakeside community, but maybe a little more upscale. I'm not wild about being in places in Italy where people come to vacation, but this was a lovely way to spend the day, even if I was surrounded by Dutch people on holiday.

First, I read and had a cappuccino at one spot by the lake. Then I walked around the town more to get in my steps, as this was a non-gym day, and then settled in at another spot for lunch and to finish reading "Where the Crawdads Sing," by Delia Owens.

This is the lake.

This was my approach to the lake. 

Love how they saved this tree :)

Pretty bikes. They seemed to be up for grabs, but I could see no official way to use one. Not even sure they were locked.

Really quite close to perfection, if not perfection. This was a tuna, olive, and roasted tomato salad with green lettuce in a "bowl" of radicchio.

Found a kitty. She/he was VERY happy for the attention. 

Just as I was leaving after lunch, a glass of prosecco was delivered to my table. The waiter told me it was from these three men across the restaurant from me who'd been there as long as I had. They were very chatty with each other, and one guy's ring tone was Reveille, set SUPER LOUD.  Click here for a listen. It was really unnerving when it "rang."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SGnZxcS7VKA

Anyway, I was then told, by the waiter, that they'd like to give me a boat tour of the lake and its island. A waitress across the room was nodding enthusiastically, saying they do a great tour! But I explained I needed to be back in Viterbo soon, to which she scowled and said, "Viterbo? It's so HOT there."  They were respectful of my having to decline. I finished my prosecco and finally left.

I guess the next thing of note is the gym. I've been going pretty regularly. Sweating my ass off because even with AC, nothing is ever really cool. I made a mix tape so I can run to music with a good beat to keep up my pace. I do this on the treadmill for 30 minutes/300 calories. Very odd that it is always exactly like that. It's about 4 km. Then I roam around and do other stuff... thigh master type machines... kettle bells... planks...and rowing. After a half hour of this puttering, I leave.

Leaving requires going back down to the locker room and bracing myself for the nudity. It's completely demoralizing to have to see naked Italian women before and after my lame workout. Actually, I would not think my workout lame if I didn't have to see these women before and after. Flawless, taut, olive skin, immodest... almost, and I mean really almost exhibitionist. One woman got distracted by her hair or face or something in the mirror while pulling up her pants so she just stood there in her thong, pants half pulled up. Seriously? Lots of breasts, too. Thongs and breasts. And there's no door, just a turn in from an area where men are sitting waiting for spin class to begin. If they had any sense of what was just out of their view they wouldn't be thinking about spinning.

I caught one woman using a private bathroom on another floor post-workout. Maybe she wanted to avoid the locker room scene too. She wanted to avoid watching another thong-clad woman drying her hair. Why not put something on first?

I had been using a locker right in the thick of it and spent so much time trying not to let anything appear in my line of vision that it took me forever to get my stuff and leave. So I've since moved to a far corner where I can get right to my stuff. Minimal boobage/thongage.

Another thing. I'm the only one who leaves the way I came in. In my workout clothes. The other women do the full shower, hair (hairdryers provided), make-up, clothes, heels. The works. I leave sweating in a tank and leggings... a big Ciao! to the front desk girl... and off to the supermarket. They must be horrified.

I alternate, by the way, pilates class with treadmill and machines. The next time I went to pilates I had the same teacher — really lovely woman — who recognized me as her "American friend," and proceeded to sprinkle English throughout again, making me the object of curiosity.

Pretty balls.

As I left the gym and reached into my bag for my keys, something stuck to my hand. When I pulled it out, it was this:

Funny little message from the universe. Like a fortune cookie fortune...but no cookie.

Later this week we had a kind invitation for dinner at the home of this year's guides, Eleanora, and her daughter, Cami. Their house was fantastic — high ceilings covered with art. Dinner — pizza, salad, bruschetta (consisting of a ricotta/prosciutto spread on bread), beer, strawberry tart, and limoncello — was outside on this long table.

And I made a friend. Punto (which means "Period").
His brother's name is Virgilio ("Comma").

Always exciting when a hostess brings these out!

Loved this — written on her wall.

The next night was a group dinner in a piazza — Piazza del Gesu — one of the busiest in Viterbo since they often have performances. This night there was a fire thrower, a bubble guy, and two performers who did sort of acrobatic ballet maneuvers hanging from silk fabric "ropes" — a la Pink.

These guys.... An Italian, an American, and a Muslim. (Sounds like the beginning of a joke — "....walked into a bar....")
Fast friends who had only just met.