Domodossola, northern Italy

My first grateful stop in Italy is Domodossola, a bustling medieval market town just south of the Swiss border.  Nestling in the Alps, at 220m above sea level, it was a welcome sight after 11 hours of travel, starting at 4am with the drive to Bristol Airport.

Travel in these times is an eerie experience; for the most part well-managed by the authorities, and with mutual respect among the passengers.  I only had to glare at a couple of (young male) people.  Going through security was pretty much as normal, with just a lot more perspex.  There is only one way in to the terminal, past a slightly alarming booth and ceiling-mounted thermometer.  Once clear of that, all masked up, and taking advantage of a multitude of hand sanitising stations, via a sanitised bag check-in, it

 was through to the untypically half-full departure lounge, where a series of arrows on the floor offered a one-way system which, if followed precisely, gave no hope of return to the starting point.  On then to the gate, and the 'plane, which, despite Easyjob's assurances of fewer passengers was pretty rammed.

Geneva airport disembarkation, passport control and luggage reclaim was painless, and I was able to catch an early train, along the northern side of Lake Geneva, spotting the lakeside palace I'll buy when I win the lottery, and then into the Rhone valley, with bare rocky mountains rising in grotesque shapes on either side, the river itself running swollen and pale green alongside the train.  

At Brig, I changed trains for the short hop through a tunnel into Italy, to be greeted at the top of the stairs in Domodossola station by two rather fierce looking Polizia di Finanza officers, who were actually stopping the young Indian man in front of me. 

After I'd dodged them, Google maps managed to confuse me sufficiently to make the 5 minute walk to the hotel into a head-scratching 10 minutes, and I was glad to lie down in an albeit hot room and listen to the thunder rumbling in the mountains, for, Lo!, as soon as Wrinklitourist arrived, so did the rain, a phenomenon which will surprise no one in my immediate circle; I am, after all, the rain goddess, bringing rain to India, the Philippines, Spain and just about anywhere else I go.  I need the Bro here to counterbalance and bring some sun.

However, it's a bright, sunny morning today, and in the delightful Market Square, there is, appropriately, a farmers' market.  The next leg to Aosta starts this afternoon.