10 June, 1988
Lake Como, Italy
This morning Mr. Celli loaned me his wonderfully kept wooden boat and I rowed across Lake Como. Beautiful. There was a light wind that made the rowing back difficult but the lake and surrounding hills made the effort worthwhile. There always seems to be a scent of verbena in the air. Kris is at a conference at Villa Serbelloni for two weeks and I am enjoying the solitude. The little hotel where I am staying is cheap but the food is expensive and it should be. I have never tasted anything like it. The old woman prepares these small fishes with a green sauce that she will not tell me about. Its aroma and color are fantastic. I smell some parsley and basil but cannot make out the rest, all I know is that it is so fantastic that I have had it 5 nights in a row and if I could have it for lunch I would. The produce is so fresh it is like eating a tomato or zucchini for the first time. At this rate my money for Africa will be gone by weeks end. I feel like an addict and the old, Italian woman cooking, my dealer.