It could happen anytime, everywhere and often without a particular reason. You just feel it. Those emotions and feelings that wakes up inside your soul, heart and thinkings. The call for freedom and the desire to travel the world. Your first steps are around your familiar neighbourhood. You grow up and don’t find anymore satisfaction in exploring the nearby world which has become so familiar for you.
You pay and book yourself a train ticket for a short visit to one of your dream destinations.
I was only 17 years young in 1979 when I decided to leave the comfort zone from home and the sometimes overwhelming presence from my parents to explore Northern Italy by train during a weekend
At 6 pm on a quiet but rainy and rather cold Friday evening I took a night train to Milan, Italy from Brussels South railway station in Belgium with only a little backpack around my shoulders. In it fixed my analogue Praktica camera with some film rolls and two lenses, some clothes, drinks and a lunch package. I took place in a comfortable and convertible sleeping cabin that I shared with five other travellers who took off from rainy Belgium to visit the Lake region in Lombardy where we supposed to find back better and warmer weather in a gorgeous environment. Smoothly the fully booked train passed the borders of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, France and steamed skittish through the overwhelming Swiss landscape. After 14 hours and a night passage by the Simplon tunnel, which connects Switzerland with Italy, we arrived in Stazione Garibaldi – Milan. Although Milano, Italian for the capital of Lombardy, is a beautiful and major city full of shopping and cultural attractions, it was not my final destination. Stresa and Lake Maggiore were since a longtime on my “Wishlist”. But to visit this more Northwestern located region I had to switch railway stations and to go back a little bit into the direction of the Swiss border. A comfortable and brand-new metro connection made the move easy and fast in a matter of five minutes. At Stazione Centrale, a huge “railway palace” build on behalf of dictator Benito Mussolini, it wasn’t easy as a young and solo traveller to find the exact platform. My knowledge of the French and English language would not help me a lot in “il bel paese” so I switched to my poor knowledge of the language of Dante and Da Vinci. Finally after drinking two real Italian coffees – “cappuccino’s” off course – I found the right platform to join Stresa and my forbidden dreams. One hour away from Milano and 15 degrees Celsius warmer than in Belgium, I found back those coloured and picturesque houses and small hamlets which are so particular for Italy. I discovered those soft and attractive pastel shades at the age of six together with my parents during one of those multiple holidays we spent in Liguria.
Stresa is a nice place to stay with his beautiful palaces on the lakeside which for the most parts has become expensive hotels for the many tourists, foreigners or native Italians, who wants to visit the beautiful Lake Maggiore region and his surroundings. From a terrace nearby the Lakeside I got a spectacular view of Monte Rosa on the horizon. The white summit of these giant of the Alps was well isolated in the pure and crystal clear sky. This was just a beautiful and harmonious environment. The combination of the deep blue water of the lake and the view of the high and immense Alpine range in the background. With deep in my pockets the dream to climb one day that Alpine giant I stepped on board of a small boat to visit one of the Borromean Islands which lies just in front of Stresa. I stept ashore on Isola Bella with his stunning Baroque palace and elaborate Italian gardens. The Borromeo family, rich merchants from the former Duchy of Milan, created a real masterpiece on this small island. The four-storey palace is a typical example of Lombard Baroque architecture and surrounded with superb Italian gardens which are spread across ten terraces that form a truncated pyramid ornamented with balustrades, hedges, obelisks and statues. The results had a significant impact on the landscape and the former inhabitants, the fishermen, and represent a triumph for man shaping nature to his will. A little bit overdone for me so I decided to jump on the first boat to Isola dei Pescatori, one of the most picturesque locations on Lake Maggiore. Its characteristic old village has been a fishing community for centuries and is still home to around fifty people, some of whom preserve their traditional way of life. The narrow streets invited me to a particular walk through a spartan environment. I was passionated by the old-fashioned characteristics. Sadly the hours and the day became to an end and I had to go back to Milano to catch my night train back homewards and also I wished to shoot some nice pictures from the passionating and lovable city Milano is still nowadays. On the train to Milano I wrote on the back of some postcards my personal feelings about my fist solo trip far away from home. It was just overwhelming. The call for travelling intensively sounded loud and clear as never before. My father travelled extensively in the 1950’s and later on and now his son was stung by the same disease. A harmless clinical picture…
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