Now if I had left at the scheduled time, I don’t think I would have been as jet lagged as I was when I first arrived in Italy. But because we didn’t end up leaving until 11 pm, I was quite tired when I got to Milan the following afternoon, and my internal clock was a bit muddled (I was lucky to have slept a little on the plane, because I usually have trouble sleeping in an upright position). Poor Anna had to wait 7 hours at the airport because my flight was so delayed! But I got one of the warmest welcomes I’ve ever had, and a savory espresso to boot upon my arrival.
My arrival in Milan was followed by a flurry of train rides and car trips, but finally in the early evening we arrived in Bormio, a quiet alpine ski town (not a village) in the far north of Italy (near Switzerland north). I know this makes me sound like a gawking loser, but when I came into town for the first time that evening, I couldn’t help but notice the patches of white high up in the sky:
“Are those clouds, or mountains?” I asked.
“Those are mountains,” Anna told me. Wow. That’s a really big fucking mountain I thought.
“I’ve never seen mountains so big,” I said, slack-jawed. What a tourist, Anna probably thought.
From the bedroom window....
Kind of feel the urge to yodel....
But waking up the next morning, I could see in broad daylight that these were mountains. Being the silly lifelong seaside dweller that I am, when I had previously thought about mountains, the Pennsylvanian Appalachians came to mind. But now I could see that those were just lame hills in comparison with these craggy, snow-covered behemoths. I mean, these mountains were big. Big enough to have to crane your neck to see their peaks. Big enough that if you wanted to climb to the top, you’d probably have to hire a guide and it would take you all day to go up and come back down. Ok, in reality they’re probably not that big, but for a wussy flatlander like myself they were pretty damn big (apparently I drove through the Austrian alps a few years ago, but these were much bigger by far). So anyway, Bormio is situated in a valley between three or four of these giant peaks, one of which happens to be 3000 meters of skiing heaven, so the town gets invaded in the winter time by thousands of the rich, sickeningly stylish Milanese (Milan is only 3 hours by car), peaking around New Year’s and a few days after. So the town was pretty hopping when I arrived for my weeklong vacation.
So even though as I am writing this and Anna is reading it and thinking, “What an idiot,” because she probably disagrees, her hometown is totally and charmingly adorable. She says it’s boring, and she’s probably right, but it sure is lovely. The neat thing is that there are lots of centuries-old frescoes adorning many of the houses (including Anna’s – “Yeah, it’s pretty old,”), and the juxtaposition of these fresco – adorned houses and churches with the snowy alpine peaks of the surrounding mountains makes a postcard-worthy dream landscape (at least for this lame American). It was nice to spend a day or two in Bormio wandering around and taking in the town and visiting the cute cafes.
Anna's house, complete with medieval fresco
Bormio
It's the Alps, alright
We celebrated New Year’s without much pomp and circumstance in a small pub called Oliver with Anna’s sister, her husband, a few of their friends and some other locals. There was champagne and a delicious variety of appetizers, followed by some (salty) risotto. I had a nice time, and I was proud of myself that I could (kind of) count backwards from ten in Italian (it’s a work in progress).
Happy New Year!
Salute!
...Cheers to you, too!
Now because of the excess holiday booze and food intake, I had suggested that we do some kind of physical activity in the hope of fitting into my brown pants again, and Anna mentioned snowshoeing, which seemed pretty cool, so we planned to go snowshoeing one day. However, for whatever reason we ended up going cross country skiing instead in the neighboring village of Santa Caterina. Now I had never been cross country skiing before, but I feel that I did alright for my first time, seeing that I only fell over three times and finished 10 kilometers. The cross country track in Santa Caterina had wonderful scenery and it was nice to get outside doing something. But I have to admit, I felt those 10 kilometers for a few days afterward.
Santa Caterina
Amateur, skiing in jeans
She lied to me...she's really good at this!
From the trail
Achy and sore, we decided to go to the thermal baths the next day to alleviate our limp limbs. Since Roman times, Bormio has been famous for its natural hot springs which supply the ancient baths with hot mineral water, and Anna’s sister was kind enough to give us two passes to the baths as a Christmas gift. There are three thermal centers in Bormio: Bormio Terme, which is more of a hot swimming pool; Bagni Vecchi which we tried unsuccessfully to visit (“We can put you on the list for this evening,”); and Bagni Nuovi, which we were able to get into after waiting outside for half an hour (seems like a few hundred other people had the same idea as us). The bagni were very nice, and there was a variety of things to do – huge outdoor tubs of hot water, steam rooms, saunas, Jacuzzis, a “Scottish shower” (where you pull a rope and a huge bucket of cold water gets dumped on you), pools lined with river stones that massage your feet as you walk over them, and many other soothing methods of aquatic relaxation.
View from the bagni
Ciao!
I didn’t enjoy the bagni as much as I could have because the next day, I fell ill with a cold of a sort. I attributed it to a combination of my skin being opened up after the bagni, and the cold, dry mountain air that laced into my throat like a knife whenever I breathed (I’m used to thick, humid air, being from by the sea and everything). So unfortunately I had to lie in bed for a day to recover, cancelling a trip to St. Moritz in Switzerland that we had planned for that day, but I’m thankful to have only been out of commission for one day. Because of this, for the remainder of the trip we didn’t get to do everything we had planned, and we stayed in Bormio visiting Anna’s family and friends, and enjoying aperitivi every afternoon.
What’s that, you say? Well, aperitivo is one of the most awesome things about Italy. Every evening, it is customary to go out to a café or bar at about 6 o’clock-ish for aperitivo. When you go for aperitivo, you have a refreshing bitter alcoholic drink and a tasty variety of appetizers, like gherkins, olives, focaccia, prosciutto slices, chips, bits of pizza and so forth, and you chat with your friends. It is a lovely preclude to dinner, and it is one of the most awesome things about Italy.
Well, those who have been know how awesome the food and wine are, and since I’m no culinary professional nor food critic, and in the end such things must be tasted rather than talked about, I can’t say much, except that my week in Bormio was enhanced by a delightful mélange of various wines and liqueurs, savory cured meats, tasty pizzas, and scrumptious cheeses (and ham – lots of it…I had to pork out before returning to the swine-less Muslim void that is Turkey).
Only in Italy can you find an 11 pound bag of pasta
In the end, I was sad to leave Bormio, and Italy, and it was difficult to keep my baggage under weight in spite of all the goodies I had bought to bring back to Istanbul with me. But I’m sure it won’t be long before I’ll be back again – it’s hard to stay away from places when they are so picturesque and have wonderful people and food to boot.
Ecstatically enthusiastic about going back to Istanbul
Oh, I nearly forgot...every trip must always have photos of funny signs; here are two signs comical in English but normal in Bormino and Italian, respectively:
"Stone of the House", in Bormino
Funny name for an insurance company...
