IT'S OLD, IT'S NEW -- IT'S BEAUTIFUL

ART, ARCHITECTURE, MOUNTAINS, LAKES ARE MERELY A FEW OF THE ATTRACTIONS

By David Aldrich, Globe Correspondent, 07/12/98

IF YOU GO . . . Northern Italy info

LERA, Italy -- My wife and I were strolling down a stone alley in this mountain village when we nearly collided with an elderly farm woman bent under a sofa-sized load of freshly cut hay. We stepped aside; she smiled; we exchanged hellos. In a sloping hayfield nearby, her son swung a scythe, while medieval church bells echoed off the mountains, overlapped, blended, reached us from all directions.

A day later, Nancy and I sipped coffee at a sidewalk cafe on the main square of nearby Alzano Lombardo as shiny new Fiats and red scooters rushed past. At one point, two men crisscrossed through the shadow of the venerable Basilica of San Martino, each prattling into that symbol of up-to-date Italy, the cellular phone. (Were they talking to their boss? A girlfriend? Each other?)

Northern Italy is restlessly modern . . . and restfully old. And beautiful beyond description, clogged with beauty in fact -- there is too much to see, too much art, too many incomparable buildings. A cathedral that would make a village famous in any other country is here matched by the one only a mile or so up the road, and shamed by another mile beyond. As for nature, the mountains and glacier lakes of northern Italy are the equal of its art and architecture.

For centuries the lakes have brought writers, painters, and travelers to this region. And my wife and me. And many, many others.

Prosperous northern Italy can be crowded and stressful. It's a stop-and-go place, a region of puzzling contrasts, of rushed highways and slow meals, of fast talkers who nevertheless always find time for a friendly conversation, of jammed tourist streets and forgotten mountain villages, of good-natured people who seem to tolerate anything except you in front of them driving too slowly.

Because northern Italy is so varied, you have a wide choice of how to spend your time. For a quiet day, go to a mountain village and enjoy a slow meal with the regulars at a cafe, or take in a museum in Milan, Bergamo, or Verona. For excitement, visit one of the lakes, where mountain walls plunge straight into the water, white passenger ferries sparkle in the sun, and red-roofed villas line the water's edge.

Our most relaxing lake trip was to the relatively unknown Lake Iseo, whose spectacular island, Monte Isola, is nothing more than a single, sharp mountain peak that bursts from the water. A ferry runs to the island from Sulzano ($3). Cars are banned from the island; only scooters and a few minuscule trucks putter around. Bright red or blue or black boats reminiscent of Venetian gondolas bob at their moorings, and swans paddle along the shore. You'll also see grape vines, olive groves, kiwi fruit trees, and few of your countrymen -- a soft-drink seller said that we were the first Americans she'd seen on the island in five years.

Another favorite lake visit was to the Sirmione peninsula, a hundred yards wide and extending two miles north into fashionable Lake Garda. Sirmione is not relaxing, however. It's commercial, crowded, and rushed, but still worth a visit. The Romans built baths at the peninsula's tip, and there the Roman poet Catullus had his grand villa (poetry apparently paying better in those days). You can drive part way along the peninsula but must abandon your car when you reach the moat and the 15th-century Scaligeri castle protecting Sirmione. (Castle tours cost $6.)

Beyond the castle, you pass cafes, small hotels, and upscale tourist shops selling glass, leather goods, brass candlesticks, and quirky items such as a reproduction of an Italian public mailbox that tempted me until I saw the $90 price tag (and how would I get it home?). From here you are never more than two minutes from the turquoise water, where you can walk between cliffs on one side and a rocky beach on the other until you reach the peninsula's tip. There you can visit the Roman ruins, the Grotto of Catullo (entrance fee for the ruins and museum $6, open 9 a.m. to 7 p.m.). To get away from the crowds, duck into nearby Catullo's Garden, sprawl on the grass in the shade of an olive tree, listen to the birds, and try to imagine what it would be like to have been a Roman poet living here a couple thousand years ago.

To get even farther from crowds, visit a mountain town such as San Pellegrino, a fashionable spa in the late 19th century and famous today for its bottled water. San Pellegrino is a tranquil place, spread along a river valley between high green peaks and filled with grand homes from the previous century. But it appears to have fallen out of favor lately: Grass and brush grow between the tracks of the funicular railroad, and the enormous Grand Hotel stands boarded up at river's edge. We visited on a day of mist and soft rains, which added to the impression of gentle decay. (Entrance fee for a one-day visit to a San Pellegrino spa runs about $10.)

But we most enjoyed lesser-known villages, such as sleepy Gandino with its arcaded square and fountain, Olera where we walked in the meadows, Monte di Nesi where we had a quiet Sunday lunch at a hilltop restaurant shared with friendly villagers who apparently make eating here a Sunday tradition.

Some of these hamlets show up in guidebooks, some do not. Your favorites will be the ones you find on your own, simply by getting into your car and getting lost, an easy pleasure in northern Italy if you can just ignore the guy behind you, honking.