It was a day before my birthday in March 2016. We were in Milan, Italy, sitting in a small, warm Filipino carinderia tucked into a quiet corner of the city. The smell of garlic fried rice and daing na bangus filled the air. I remember the comforting taste of itlog and longganisa, familiar and rich with memories of home. We were far from the Philippines, but that meal made the world feel small, familiar, and cozy.
As we enjoyed our food, my husband pulled out his phone and opened Google Maps. He always has a way of turning ordinary moments into little adventures. “Let’s see what’s nearby,” he said, casually scrolling. I sipped my drink, half-listening, thinking about what we might do the next day. We had no set plans. Just the city, the food, and the time to enjoy it all.
Then, he paused and tilted his phone toward me. “What about this for tomorrow?” he asked.
On the screen was a little patch of blue, surrounded by green hills and winding roads. I squinted. “A lake?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “On my birthday?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. You see, where I’m from, lakes aren’t usually a big deal. They’re calm and nice, sure, but not exactly birthday material. “Show me a photo,” I said, curious but not convinced.
So, he did. And just like that, everything changed.
The pictures of Lake Como took my breath away. It looked like a dream—deep blue water nestled between snow-dusted mountains, charming little villages with red rooftops, narrow streets, and boats gliding quietly across the lake. The kind of place that doesn’t even seem real until you see it with your own eyes.
“Let’s go,” I said instantly. There was no hesitation. No second thoughts. It felt like the most perfect idea in the world.
The next morning, we boarded a train from Milan to Como. The ride was peaceful and smooth, taking us away from the city and into a new rhythm. As the landscape changed from buildings to open countryside, my excitement grew. I still didn’t know exactly what to expect, but I had a good feeling about it.
Arriving in Como felt like stepping into a painting. The air was crisp but gentle, and the lake stretched out before us like glass. Snow-dusted mountains stood in the distance, and colorful buildings hugged the shoreline. It was beautiful—quiet and full of life all at once.
We wandered through the streets of Como with no plan. The cobblestones beneath our feet, the pastel homes with flower boxes in the windows, and the calm sparkle of the lake made everything feel just right. We could’ve spent all day there, but the adventure was just beginning.
We decided to take a bus from Como to Bellagio, one of the most charming towns along the lake. The ride was winding, with the lake peeking through the trees and cliffs along the way. Every corner brought a new, breathtaking view, and by the time we reached Bellagio, I was already in love.
Bellagio was something out of a dream. Narrow streets climbed gently uphill, lined with boutiques, cafes, and balconies spilling over with flowers. The lake shimmered below, framed by mountains and sky. We spent hours walking around, taking photos at every turn. It was impossible not to. Every angle looked like it belonged on a postcard. We laughed, posed, and paused often just to soak it all in.
It didn’t matter that it was chilly or that we didn’t have a detailed plan. Bellagio welcomed us with its timeless charm. There was something romantic and peaceful about it, like time slowed down just for us.
After spending most of the day there, we took a ferry across the lake to Menaggio. The ferry ride itself was quiet and lovely, the lake so calm it looked like silk. Menaggio had a more laid-back feel—less polished than Bellagio, but equally charming in its own way. We didn’t stay long, but the short stop gave us another angle of the lake, another piece of the day to hold onto.
From there, we hopped on a boat back to Como. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting everything in gold. Sitting on that boat, the wind in our hair, I felt so present. So full.
Back in Como, we walked slowly, as if trying to stretch the day just a little longer. We found a little café by the water and sat outside under a soft blanket, sharing a warm drink. My husband looked at me, smiling. “Happy birthday,” he said. I smiled back, and I meant it more deeply than I ever had before.
There were no balloons or parties. No big crowds or gifts. Just us, the lake, and a day that unfolded with so much beauty and heart that it felt like the world had wrapped me in a quiet hug.
I think back to that day often, especially on birthdays that come and go more quietly. There was something so special about the way it all came together—unplanned, unexpected, and so much more beautiful than anything I could have prepared.
It reminds me that some of life’s best moments aren’t the ones we plan months in advance. They’re the ones that begin with a small question, like “What about this?” in the middle of an ordinary meal. They’re born from curiosity, from a spark of adventure, and from being open to wonder.
Lake Como wasn’t just a beautiful destination. It became a part of my story—a piece of my heart that lives in the folds of that perfect day.
Years have passed since that birthday, but the memory is as fresh as ever. I still remember the taste of the longganisa from the day before, the excitement on the train, the sound of the water, and the way my husband smiled when he saw my eyes light up at the lake.
I didn’t know that morning, as we ate our Filipino breakfast in Milan, that I was about to have one of the best birthdays of my life. But that’s the beauty of it. Some moments come quietly and stay forever.
That March day gave me more than a trip. It gave me a story I’ll tell for the rest of my life. And every time I think of Lake Como, I remember not just how beautiful it was—but how beautiful it felt.
