
By Pamela Jacobs
On my first night in Lake Como, Italy, I dined on a lakeside terrace under twinkling stars, enjoying homemade pasta and fine Italian wine, and playing a spirited round of “speed desserting” with friends who enjoy eating and drinking as much as I do; I thought “I could get used to this.” When we moved into the wine cellar and finished the evening with more wine and cheese, I thought “I wish I were staying here longer.” By my last night, while sitting in the coziest restaurant imaginable, eating meats, cheeses, and fondues to the point of exhaustion, and drinking the best Italian wines I’ve ever had, I thought “I could live here.” Before going to sleep, I had already begun inquiring about apartments.











































