Welcome to Lake Garda
Life around the lake is nowadays dominated by tourism through and through. Tourists do not only feed those who work directly with them, such as hotel and restaurant managers, but also many others: the fruit-seller on the market, the craftsman who builds holiday homes, the fisherman who supplies the restaurants, the mountain farmer from Trentino who sells his cheese, and even the lonely truffle-hunter who is out on Monte Baldo at the crack of dawn with his dog.
Even so, there are some refuges left for the locals to get away from the mass of tourists that overruns the region at the beginning of the season. Younger people meet at sports clubs, older men go hunting. If you hear a TV set through an open window in the evening, it means the family has come together for dinner. But even though tourism is the main source of income, there is no need to fear that you will be treated like a walking purse. In the tourist offices, you will get the never-changing questions on bus timetables, swimming opportunities and bike-centres answered with surprising politeness and friendliness. In some hotels you will be greeted as if you came every year, and don’t be surprised if the waiter entertains you with a little song at dinner. And still, if you happen to come across a grumpy waiter, don’t lose your patience. Everybody has a right to be in a bad mood every now and then, and people who have to deal with tourists every day sometimes have a hard time concealing their feelings. And you can always relax and just pay no attention.
Have you finished your cappuccino? Then why not take a little stroll along the shore. You can hear waves gently lapping against the quay, watch children balance on the low walls, the soft ice-cream melting all over their fingers. Surfers glide along on the lake below, the snow-capped peak of Monte Baldo winks at you from above. All around you is an abundance of lush colours and delicate smells: bright pink oleander, magnolias with blossoms like water-lilies, camellias with tomato-sized blossoms, smelling seductively. The sun is sinking steadily lower. After dinner, you are bound to return to the lake – all ways meet there. Stroll out onto the mole, have a seat, lean back against a lamp-post and watch the sky blush to deeper and deeper shades of red. Don’t hesitate to repeat yourself: “True. Smashing place.”
