Bread...doesn't come in liters?

Come stai mia amici!
The past two weekends have been a BLAST!
Last weekend Jacky and I spontaneously vacayed to Lakes Como and Maggiore. Both are set in Italian Alps, just near the Swiss border, and were absolutely incredible. Como was a natural wonder, having huge jagged snow capped peaks with small cliff towns peppered with palm trees!? So beautiful!
We stayed at a hostel in Menaggio, one of the small towns on the lake. It was great. The staff was awesome, it was cheap (thank god!), and we met some great people and drank some great (and equally as cheap!) wine. Our first day was a real treat. We arrived in the afternoon and decided to rent bikes and explore. To our dismay, helmets were a requirement. It made for some fantastic pictures! Off we went down the crazy tight roads through the hills of Como. We were greeted with many a honk. We determined some were simply angry that we were in the road. Others were absolutely delighted at the fact that we were wearing shorts, something that Italians have not adopted yet; this being the 21st century and all.
After a long day of riding we had a lot of laughs back at the hostel. One in particular will stick with us. As we were ordering dinner, I was reading off our list of items to the manager in order to pay. I said, "One pork, one spaghetti, two waters, and one liter of red." Red, meaning wine. He prominently exclaimed, "NO! Bread does not come in liters!"...This would be a moment for a sane person to retract and say no, I meant red wine. Instead, I replied, "What!! It DOESN'T!?!" Went on to converse with the man, trying to convince him of my joking tendencies, but the language barrier simply left our lovely hostel owner with further ideas as to American stupidity.
The next day was the real story maker, however. I spotted a church on a cliff the night before, and in our crazy stupor we decided we were going to go for it!
So we rose at dawn, had a quick breakfast, and marched up the hill. And what a hill it was. After somewhere between 700-900 stairs (NOT an exaggeration)..we arrived at the church on the cliff. As we panted and gathered our composure for about a half an hour, a pair of chipper 75 year old men greeted us at the top, completely unfazed by the enormous assent. "We are Paolo and Pascuale, we are 75 years old and we climb this hill once a week. Can your parents do that?" No Paolo and Pascuale, no they can't.
After our dissent, we saw a flyer at the hostel for a camp that had all sorts of outdoor activities. HORSE BACK RIDINGGGGGGGG! We both agreed it would be great, picturing a typical guided horse back experience with a cowboy who gives you all the do's and dont's of horse etiquette and leads you on a harmless grassy trail. Who were we kidding? This...is.....Italy.
Instead, we were picked up by one Luca the Cowboy. Drunk as a skunk, the man shipped us up in his sad excuse for a pick-up into the Italian wilderness. We climbed and climbed and climbed switchback trails until we arrived at the "ranch". Some sad lookin horses were sitting outside and we knew we were in for a reallllll ride (pun..INTENDED!)
I got Lady, the white lightning. Jacky thought she drew the big male stallion, but no, she got the slutty horse. Luca brought this broad around the corner, and all the stallions went absolutely insane, hip checking the fence, going up on their hind legs, all but hurtling over the fence and mounting the poor girl. Needless to say, we were terrified. "Luca,' Jacky asked, 'will they jump over the fence?" Luca responded, "No...I hope."
After about a mile climb up the mountain our horses were dead. Jacky's hung in there, but mine simply couldn't hack it. She was stumbling, sinking into the mud, not responding to my commands AT ALL, and even slipped 4 or 5 times on the concrete road we were walking on. I couldn't get my feet out of the stirrups, and I knew...I was going to die.
We were within sight of the house and I knew I was going to make it. Oh no no no Jenna. Lady sees the house too, and BOLTS. I kid you not. I was on the grim reapers horse and had lost all control. She sprinted, I screamed, she kept sprinting, I kept screaming. We made it to the house, she all but bucks me off, and goes and lays in the grass. Luca rolls up on his Italian stallion and simply remarks, "She likes being home." I hate you Luca.

Lake Maggiore was incredibly beautiful as well. The Borromeo family commondeered its three islands and turned them into their own homes, gardens, and general vacation spots! They were amazing. One whole floor of the palace on Isola Bella was considered a giant "grotto" and completely covered in tiny stones. It was unbelievable. The gardens were equally as breathtaking. Filled with exotic birds and various plants and flowers from all over the world; they were amazing. With more of a hill geography then mountains, we felt like we were in a Carribean getaway. Due to the lack of traumatic events to write about, it would seem that we didn't have as good of a time in Maggiore, but in fact I think I liked the atmosphere better. Very laid back beachy feel and the people were so friendly.
I give the lakes two thumbs up and recommend to all...

This past weekend was Gardaland, a huge amusement just north of Milan. I do not have enough energy right now to type out my feelings on this glorious place of God, but let's just say it was absolutely everything I ever dreamt it would be, and I will detail the excursion later!

Thank you for reading....I know this is too long but i just have a lot of feelings OKAY!
Arrivederci,
Jen

P.S. I love you all very muchhhhhhhh! :-)