Day 3 - Where San Pellegrino flows like water
First full day in Ascona.
It’s like Barbie’s Dreamhouse exploded and splattered everything in chic: all just as it should be and swaddled in glamour. Thank god I packed my red, velvet smoking jacket. I keep expecting Audrey Hepburn to whizz by on a Piaggio.
I shan't be doing any whizzing … this whole driving on the wrong side of the road is just silly … and the roundabouts … mmmmm.
They call it the St. Tropez of Switzerland but that is short-changing this insanely beautiful town, cradled in the bosom of Lake Maggiore in the south. (St. Tropez in August: will check.)
Okay … so it’s 7.30am - at the breakfast buffet right now - and there is an Italian couple kissing and slow dancing by the toast points.
The Italian language is infectious. They’re so enthusiastic; so committed to their conversations … I’m getting by with a few basic words and a lot of hand gestures. Who would have thought windmill arms would ever come in so handy.
Cobbled streets and medieval bell towers, platinum bobs, Ferraris, Prada, statement earrings and manicured mini dogs dripping in bling: it’s sensory overload.
There are 58 combinations on the coffee machine in my hotel. Desperate to banish my jetlag I pressed them all at once. It’s like coffee roulette but it always delivers sublime caffeine.
Am surrounded by calories and can feel fat bits growing daily. Champagne corks pop and San Pellegrino flows like water.
Spent most of the day getting my media passes and exploring the town.
Jet lag kicked in again and knocked the wind out of my sales.
Dinner: Pasta … naturally.