Jo'Burg Days: Visit To Cannobio
Our new columnist Barbara Durlacher writes of a holday visit to Cannobio, a beautiful place on the shore of Lake Maggiore in Northern Italy.
Up at 04:00 to leave for a visit to Cannobio on the shores of Lake Maggiore in Northern Italy. Start of a 5-hour coach journey and a spectacular crossing of the Great San Bernadino Pass.
Primroses and spring crocus lie in thick clusters in the meadows. Late flowering blue lupins are fading on the road verges, but the daisies are out in all their glory. Dandelions and “troll blumen” (wild ranunculus) are still in flower, while drifts of pollen from forest rowan and elder tickle the eyes and nose. Snow lies thickly on the mountaintops, the forests are dark green against the snow and mountain streams cascade down the slopes. A blue jay flashes at the forest edge. Handsome birds with brilliant blue wings and cinnamon under-parts, they are much disliked. With a bad reputation for robbing nests, their raucous cry alerts prey and sends it into cover.
In the warmer climate of the shores of Lake Maggiore early summer flowers bloom. Balconies and patios are bright with pots of cosmos, lantana, potato bush, fuchsia, hibiscus and bougainvillea. A month later in the Alps flowerboxes on chalets and village terraces will bloom, creating the feeling of gaiety and lightness so typically Austrian. A week earlier, in a warmer valley on the Austrian side of the mountainous divide a surprising sight in a commercial nursery was a pink Dipladenia and a hybridised Adiatum, both native to sub-tropical kwaZulu-Natal and the Kruger National Park. Amazing that these sensitive plants can be induced to thrive and flower in a climate so different from their own.
Skirting the lake along a narrow, winding road, inching past oncoming traffic we reach Cannobio, still overcast and grey with pending showers. A walk down a winding cobbled street leads us to the first of the stalls filled with the colours and scents of the market.
The vibrant red of flavoursome Italian tomatoes contrasts with the sensuous purple of aubergines and the deep green gleam of early zucchini. Fresh bundles of pale green lettuce, endive and rocket vie with enormous spears of creamy luscious asparagus, fat as a man’s thumb. While vegetables glow in the shadow of the awnings, wasps and bees hover over luscious heaps of shining strawberries. Dried mushrooms and olives of every size and colour are piled in large bowls. Ranging from deep black to green, egg-sized olives temp the taste buds. Stuffed with pimento, garlic or almonds, it is difficult not to reach out a hand to sample one, or buy a few grams to nibble before lunch.
On both sides stalls are packed to abundance. Ranked loaves of just-baked dense dark flat breads, batons, baguettes, croissants and pastries beckon the eye; square, round, flat and rolled yeast goods of every kind lie in tempting array. Cheeses of every kind make the mouth drool. There are cheeses to die for, and one could make a meal of nothing but cheese. Great rounds of parmesan and parmiagiano are proudly stamped with the maker’s name; mozarello and marscapone lie next to entwined ropes, ovals and balls of cheese while bowls and crocks of curds, creams and butter invite inspection. Stacks of dried tomatoes, figs and dates surround cream-cheese filled pepperoni. Nearby a passing shaft of sunlight brings a blush of gold to a pile of early apricots. The intoxicating smell of the fruit contrasts with the strong smell of dried meats and sausages.
Proscuitto and home-cured hams wait in special cradles to be carved. Strong, spicy smells of salamis and dried sausages tempt the palate. Comb honey, creamed honey and jars of honey with nuts share the shelves with jams and cordials. Nibble the sunflower seeds, nuts and dried fruit; taste the special raspberry and blackcurrant vinegars. A market of such abundance is a pleasure to the eye. The appetising smells and sights entice passers-by; it’s a wonderful place to do your weekly shopping.
Further down clothes stalls take over. There are jeans and T-shirts by the hundreds, socks, underwear, belts and handbags. Shoes by the score, leather jackets in every style and colour. Lovely chunky ‘farm-style’ platters decorated with chillies, olives and lemons would make an attractive salad centrepiece for a summer table. Matching cloths and napkins complete the effect, but crockery is a problem to carry home!
The large crowd sways and jostles, haggles and bargains. Lake steamers carrying loads of eager shoppers come and go, while those who have completed their shopping go home to prepare the midday meal. Smartly dressed visitors with well-behaved pet dogs stroll around, the dogs walking quietly beside their owners. They are a marked contrast to the tired, bored, noisy children dragged unwillingly from their play, showing their displeasure with tears and tantrums.
As the bells ring in unison at midday the restaurants fill with hungry visitors, all eager to rest and refuel before the long drive home. A sudden squall sweeps over the lake, blotting the opposite shore. Chairs are aligned in “stare” position, all facing outwards; mustn’t miss the passing parade. Awnings drip after the squall; last minute shoppers raise a sea of umbrellas. Then, on the stroke of two, in accordance with local by-laws, stalls are dismantled, vans are packed and a rapidly diminishing line of vehicles vanishes like Cinderella’s pumpkin coach. True to Italian custom, they’re off to cheer on their local soccer team!
The lakefront regains its charm; the empty square glows with bright pots of petunias and geraniums, delightful Italianate gaiety. The early evening coolness turns the distant shore softly blue, while in the foreground sailboats cut a creamy wake across the water.
The clouds drift away; the rain is over, tables are realigned and the locals wake from their siestas.
“Fancy a stroll and a cup of coffee now the Sunday peace has returned?”
