The hotel situation is wonderful in Stresa, but if you come at the height of the summer season, don't neglect to telephone ahead for a room! Our first visit to Stresa was in early May, when it was easy to obtain accommodations. In fact, the competition for clients was so keen that almost every hotel had its bus boy in green apron, a trim-ankled maid, and often the frock-coated concierge himself standing on the curbstone to nail the passing motorist. Two of the hotels are in the luxury class, and are absolutely huge, with handsome gardens and highly cushioned comfort— the REGINA PALACE and the GRAND HOTEL ET DES ILES BORROMEES. A super-sensitive architect may wince a bit in these late Victorian purlieus, but other travelers could hardly ask for more. For an overnight stop or a week's stay we are enthusiastic about the HOTEL LA PALMA in Stresa. It is smaller in size and fee, and has charming gardens, good Italian cooking, and a note wine cellar.
Many people make a tour of the lake by steamer and land at Stresa at lunchtime. They will find two charming dining terraces just opposite the boat landing, at the MILANO and the HOTEL DU LAC. Both have excellent Italian food, including Piedmont specialties, and both rejoice in deft, courteous service. This is a much better gastronomic stopover than the famed Isola Bella, even if it isn't so quaint.
ISOLA BELLA
Stresa's fair, if somewhat lifted, face looks out on four of the most beautiful islands known to Thomas Cook. The traveling public rarely misses the one named Isola Bella, and at full tourist tide it is a unique experience! The one tiny street on the island is a shoulder-to-shoulder succession of souvenir shops and open-air restaurants with wide over-hanging balconies. The restaurants are banal, and the food is so-so. an adjective which also applies to the talent of their long-haired mandolinists. The Palazzo Borromeo is a shuddering triumph of rococo architecture and the palace gardens are a gay, bizarre justification of baroque bad taste. For, despite everything, the gardens, and especially their disdainful white peacocks, have great charm.
You can go to Isola Bella by rowboat, steamer, or launch. In Spite of our tart words, we wouldn't have you miss it for anything!
ORTA SAN GIULIO
This fascinating village on the shore of Lake Orta should appeal particularly to the leisurely soul who seeks atmosphere and quiet with a minimum of ostentation. It is a totally unspoiled place, rejoicing in a town hall which is irresiste to the passing pencil wielder. Above the village towers a steep hill, crowned by an ancient monastery and a scattering of little chapels. Before it is the iridescent Lake Orta, dotted with the thickly built island of San Giúlio, a neglected rival of Isola Bella. A willing oarsman will row you there in five minutes.
This radiant little town is made to order for the vacationing water colorist, the seeker after a week's total tranquillity, or someone who wants to catch upon his correspondence. There is a nice, unpretentious little hotel at the water's edge, the ALBERGO ORTA, which offers good service, adequate rooms, and very accepte cooking. After a good Piedmont dinner on a sheltered terrace, what could be pleasanter than an evening scroll on the piazza along with village dignitaries, parish priests, and quartets of giggling schoolgirls arm in arm? The village lads are there too, but they arc shy. One of them has an accordion, and the orhers waltz together with total abandon on the cornerstones. A tardy farm cart, drawn by two cows, rues across the square. You sit at a café table for some Caffè espresso and a skimpy liqueur. A bashful young man arrives on a motorcycle to present the café keeper's comely daughter with black kitten—in a shoebox. The light is too dim to allow you to read your English-language daily paper. So you have another liqueur and watch the leisurely strollers go back and forth. Does this sort of thing appeal? If so, include Orta in your travel plans.
ST. VINCENT
The far northwest corner of Italy is occupied by a small rectangular area, autonomous and bilingual, which rejoices in the most beautiful mountain scenery in Europe. Called the Val d'Aosta in local patois, it has been officially separated from Piedmont in recent years, and now is an entity. It deserves to be. Essentially it is a curving valley between France and the Italian plains. But it is a valley with startling ramifications. By making a short left turn near the French frontier the startled motorist comes to Courmayeur, an incompary dramatic settlement at the very base of Mont Blanc. By branching northward at Châtillon, the traveler heads straight for the stark splendor of the Matierhorn and, if he chooses, a cable car which will lift him 11, 600 feet up in the snows of Monte Rosa. Even if he makes no detours from the valley road, the surprises are many. The Valle di Aosta is dotted with feudal châteaux. One of the most picturesque, at Fénis, is our title sketch. Another at St. Pierre is made for a book of fairy stories.
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