Stretched over two chairs atop the skinny passenger deck of a 10-car ferry as it shuttles across Lake Como, I look south into the haze of Italy. I'm savoring the best of my favorite country with none of the chaos and intensity that are generally part of the Italian experience. Looking north, into a crisp alpine breeze, I see snowcapped Alps.

I'm just minutes from Switzerland…but it's clear I'm in Italy. The ferry workers are Italian, with that annoying yet endearing and playful knack for underachieving. Precision seems limited to the pasta: exactly al dente.