Mergozzo is a tiny place.
It is home to 2,135 people, but I am stumped as to how many more pass through during the holiday season.
Many of these tourists do in fact seem to be passing through.
Some are just staying an hour before climbing back on their motor bikes or into their cars in search of something new to see.
A few more use it for a few days as a base for walking the mountains, or cycling along the shores of the lake.
And a handful, like us have opted to wash up for the week, making no claims to anything more energetic than sitting in the sun, on the grass beside the lake.
I am surprised just how few of us there are enjoying a beach holiday without the beach, and how warm the lake water can be, even at 10 in the morning.
We had driven over from Varese where the family live and the journey takes less than an hour which means we can nip back and forth with no sense that this has been a chore.
But for most of the time we stay by the lake with the odd adventure around the town, which is less all of us and more just me and a camera.
What strikes you is the total lack of town planning. The houses rise from the sides of the mountain, and streets come to an end because someone has extended their home or added another to the ones already there.
And where the streets haven’t been blocked, they rise up to another level with the aid of steep steps, making me wonder just how easy they are to navigate after a week of snow has fallen.
But then, given how narrow the streets are and how little daylight penetrates I can’t think that much snow gets through.
So I go looking for a restaurant for the evening of which there are more than a few, but some are no more than over priced snack bars with indifferent food, delivered by surly waiters.
Of course they may just be tired after a long season, but I think not. The small dark haired woman who served us on the first day never seems to smile and her companion has mastered the art of ignoring customers judging perfectly that moment just before the expectant dinners lose patience and are about to leave.
But amongst these are the more welcoming restaurants of which La Pagul, shines out. It is tucked away in a side street and on our first night was closed.
But the big barn doors and the selection of community posters pinned outside announcing a variety of events caught our attention.
That said it wasn’t our first choice, that fell to another place which always seemed fully booked.
So, on our last night we tried it, and it was indeed a choice well made.
The staff were attentive, friendly and helpful, the food excellent and the other customers were mostly locals which pretty much confirmed its worth.
And for those who want to know about the food, we started with a shared plate of fresh vegetables with grilled goat’s cheese, followed by gnocchi in a light Gorgonzola sauce with the some delightful puddings.
The decor had a feel of the late 1960s and early 70s with art work inspired by Dali and an easy going approach which was reflected in the way they welcomed in the flower seller, allowing him to offer his wares, and even giving him something to teak away with.
Location; Mergozzo
Pictures; around, 2018, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and La Pagul, courtesy of the restaurant
*Ristorante La Pagul, Vicolo XI, 4, 28802 Mergozzo
Many of these tourists do in fact seem to be passing through.
Some are just staying an hour before climbing back on their motor bikes or into their cars in search of something new to see.
A few more use it for a few days as a base for walking the mountains, or cycling along the shores of the lake.
And a handful, like us have opted to wash up for the week, making no claims to anything more energetic than sitting in the sun, on the grass beside the lake.
I am surprised just how few of us there are enjoying a beach holiday without the beach, and how warm the lake water can be, even at 10 in the morning.
We had driven over from Varese where the family live and the journey takes less than an hour which means we can nip back and forth with no sense that this has been a chore.
But for most of the time we stay by the lake with the odd adventure around the town, which is less all of us and more just me and a camera.
And where the streets haven’t been blocked, they rise up to another level with the aid of steep steps, making me wonder just how easy they are to navigate after a week of snow has fallen.
But then, given how narrow the streets are and how little daylight penetrates I can’t think that much snow gets through.
So I go looking for a restaurant for the evening of which there are more than a few, but some are no more than over priced snack bars with indifferent food, delivered by surly waiters.
Of course they may just be tired after a long season, but I think not. The small dark haired woman who served us on the first day never seems to smile and her companion has mastered the art of ignoring customers judging perfectly that moment just before the expectant dinners lose patience and are about to leave.
But the big barn doors and the selection of community posters pinned outside announcing a variety of events caught our attention.
That said it wasn’t our first choice, that fell to another place which always seemed fully booked.
So, on our last night we tried it, and it was indeed a choice well made.
The staff were attentive, friendly and helpful, the food excellent and the other customers were mostly locals which pretty much confirmed its worth.
And for those who want to know about the food, we started with a shared plate of fresh vegetables with grilled goat’s cheese, followed by gnocchi in a light Gorgonzola sauce with the some delightful puddings.
The decor had a feel of the late 1960s and early 70s with art work inspired by Dali and an easy going approach which was reflected in the way they welcomed in the flower seller, allowing him to offer his wares, and even giving him something to teak away with.
Location; Mergozzo
Pictures; around, 2018, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and La Pagul, courtesy of the restaurant
*Ristorante La Pagul, Vicolo XI, 4, 28802 Mergozzo
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