Upon settling into our Vino Blanco, we were joined by some gregarious English-Polish travellers who were lots of fun to converse with. Ben, only 24, owned a house in Menaggio (to which, I obviously questioned "Does that come with a boat?") and lived in Tanzania. They promised to call us later to partake in some social revelry, especially since everything in town closed around 9pm.
Hillary and I headed back to the boat pier and took the 15 minute trip across the lake to the famous village of . This village was the inspiration for the famous Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas, incidentally. We had a gloriously lazy afternoon, strolling its narrow cobbled streets, climbing its winding stairs and alleys, looking at its shops of silk, jewelry and leather, and of course, eating more food. Every corner turned revealed another postcard perfect scene.
Heading back to Menaggio, we checked into the hostel and then wandered back to town for dinner(Hillary and I both agree that we could eat literally the entire day away here. The food is that good). Settling into two heaping plates of steaming pasta, insalata mixta, and vino rosso de la casa, we were happy bunnies. The rest of the evening was spent strolling along a moonlit lake that begged for romance, kissing, and hand holding. Alas, Hillary and I had to make do with one another (for company, that is, not kissing). Calling it an early night (Hill was still a bit jet lagged), we crashed into our dorm room beds, full of excitement at the prospect of tomorrow's adventures.