Bolzano

The next morning, we made it a point to get up early enough to be in line right breakfast was served.  Weather reports warned that rain would start later in the day, and if at all possible we wanted to avoid it.  Breakfast was, as always, a delight with fresh bread, meat, and yogurt; and we were headed down within almost a half hour of waking up.

Fog was very prominent all the way down; which cut what I'm sure were some incredible views, but it still had a wondrous effect, with the fog moving in and out of the mountain crags and the profound silence of it all.  We took the main road down rather than the trail to save time, and barring one extreme moment of uncertainty, we had no trouble following the signs down.  Being along a vehicle road, we saw more farmsteads and buildings, and it wasn't long before cowbells let us know that we were nearing pastureland.

We had this wonderland all to ourselves for perhaps two hours before we saw another living soul, and we loved every moment.  Soon, we had to watch out for vehicles and tractors along the little road; visibility was such we didn't trust that we'd be seen outside of a few yards.  We arrived in Compatsch in good time and were able to quickly get on a chairlift back down the mountain, which we had all to ourselves, and the bus back to Castlerotto was just ready to take off when we got back down. 

After picking up our bags back at the hotel room, we had got back on the bus and headed to Bolzano.  The way back was perhaps the most uncomfortable part of the trip, as this particular bus quickly filled to standing room.  We were very happy to get off and have some space to ourselves in our first fairly significant European city.

We hadn't originally planned to do much in Bolzano, but because we had hoofed it down the mountain, we found ourselves with about 3 hours free before the train was set to got to Florence, so we got to explore.

First we stopped by the ancient cathedral, begun in the 12th century and more or less finished with its prominent steeple in the 16th century.  Bolzano was heavily bombed during WWII and the cathedral, situated closely to the militarily significant train station, was heavily damaged.  Though the restoration effort has left the city looking remarkably healed, some of the frescoes inside the cathedral still show the effects of that terrible period.

This church was our first exposure to medieval art in situ, that is, in the space or setting they were intended for.  Seeing an altarpiece in a museum is a far different effect than seeing it inside the cathedral that the altarpiece was originally intended for, and here we saw eight hundred year old frescoes admonishing the faithful to reflect upon Christ's sacrifice, just like they had for eight hundred years before, instead of lining a museum as a historical artifact displaying the medieval Austrian style.  The effect and power of that experience is hard to describe, but it would drive Arthur to as many churches throughout the trip as Alex would put up with.

One other piece of note: the Bolzano Pieta.  We first saw a photo of this statue in a presentation by Rick Steves about European art as an example of pre-Renaissance sculpture.  We did not know that we would see it in this cathedral, and suddenly finding oneself face to face with a work of art covered in a lecture series was another thrill.

A pieta is any work of art portraying Mary's meditation over Christ's body.  This particular pieta is usually contrasted with Michelangelo's, whose marble figures are almost alive, in contrast to the rigid figures shown here, but that doesn't do this earlier work justice.  We'd see a few of these in Italy, and each are moving.  In a human since, it is a mother weeping over her fallen son; but it is also a fallen sinner recognizing that the reconciliation with herself and God is finished through history's greatest act of love.  Looking at the face of Mary and thinking about where the artist chooses to portray her countenance in light of that truth is deeply moving.

Anyway, enough of the church.  After wandering through the square we found ourselves on a street with buildings from the 1200s.  These buildings that were once small shops with barns at street level 8 centuries ago are now stylish boutiques.  While later on in our trip we would become more accustom to being in places that were even older, this was our first brush with how in Europe the buildings stay the same through the years but have different uses.  At this point we did get rained on but were able to duck inside to get some groceries (the cashier was not happy about breaking my 50 euro bill for 7 euros of groceries), and got our trip's first gelato, or Italian ice cream.  Gelato has less air and typically more flavoring, making it richer than other ice creams.  It is truly delicious, and we really enjoyed trying out new flavors on our trip.  This time, just to establish a baseline, we kept it simple with simply two chocolates.

I started this post with every intention of getting to Florence, but it's pretty obvious now that it's going to have to wait until next time.  On the train though we enjoyed looking at the Italian country side slide by while listening to podcasts about what we were about to see in Florence.  For now, dear reader, I'll leave you with us at the train station waiting to see the birthplace of the Renaissance.  Omnia Vincit Amor.

The Lonely Goatherd

Day 2 began with an excited Alex  exclaiming that we get to go play… in Italy.  Today’s activities   The day started out wonderfully with a great breakfast at our hotel followed by an ominous warning. You can not imagine the sinking feeling in her heart when the lady at the tourist office counseled us against hiking the mountains due to the fog and possible snow.  We had reserved a room for a refuge in the mountains for the night and so we asked the hotel receptionist to call up to the refuge to check on the weather and if the trail conditions would be safe.  With deep assurances from the refuge staff, we decided to embarked on the planned adventure. 
were some of the parts of the trip she was most looking forward to—hiking in the mountains of the Dolomites and experience the Alpine culture (since she got voted down on going to Switzerland this was the best Italian alternative).

We caught a bus that whisked us to a nearby town with a chairlift station at the base of the mountain.  This chairlift gave us gorgeous overhead views of cattle grazing, the pine forest, and the charming homes tucked on the side of the mountain.  In 15 minutes we were let off in the town of Compatch.  From there we began a glorious hike.  Everything was so beautiful Arthur might have gotten carried away with the camera.  Our journey led us through the largest high alpine meadow in Europe.  When Johanna Spyri was writing Heidi, this is the setting of the action. I highly recommend Youtubing "The Lonely Goatherd" and listening along while reading the rest of this; it'll help set the mood. 

Early on the profound silence of the area was broken only by the continual clanging of cow bells as the unconcerned bovines chewed lazily and watched the next set of tourist pass by.  These working farms coexist side by side with the budding tourism of the area in a simple symbiotic relationship; the farms provide the ambience that keep tourists coming, and in return these farms receive government subsidies for the value added to the community.  Soon the great Schlern came into view out of the clouds.  The Schlern, a great plateau with a sharp cut off high in these limestone mountains  certainly seems abrupt rising sharply out of the rolling meadow, but it is part of the charm of the area.  

I had seen the American Rockies before and ultimately that is what I expected from the Dolomites, but the contrast between the two was palpable in every way.  The Rockies are made primarily of granite that forms bolderous, well, rocky, faces.  The Dolomites by contrast are limestone and take a craggier form.  I wouldn't want to speak for the whole of the region, but hiking in high meadow like we were, the mountains were not forested at all, and that gave some pretty extraordinary views.  

It took us roughly three hours to reach the refuge, but we did not yet have our fill of adventure, so we dropped our night packs off and headed to the Schlern.  We were soon overtaken by some friendly vacationing Germans with whom we chatted and walked along.  They took some pictures for us and were just a delight to talk with, and when we had to turn back towards the refuge it was sad to leave them.

However, dinner was not eaten without company.  While most of the room was filled with Germans we were assigned to sit at the table with about the only other native English speakers.  We share a table (and a bunk room) with a couple from New Zealand and we again had a wonderful time comparing and contrasting our countries and cultures.  The meal was delicious; four courses of the most splendid Italian/German fare you'll ever see.  Arthur opted this time for the spinach dumplings (we needed to be able to compare and contrast similar founds with each other; this was a different style but still so good) to go with his salad, pesto alfredo, and cheesecake; Alex had barley soup, sausages, and apple strudel.  

Tired, well fed, and happy, we showered up, took some quick notes on the day, and headed up to bed; dreaming of the wondrous day and anticipating what yet stood before us.  Omnia Vincit Amour.

The Longest Day Continues

When we last left our weary travelers, they were just checking into their room in the Italian hamlet of Castelrotto.  Eager for adventure (they did not come all the way to Europe just to take a nap), they headed out to explore the town.  I did not realize how easy it would be to know you were not in the United States anymore just by a single glance at the world around you.  The architecture of the buildings was just different enough; some had murals beckoning back to knightly themes and fables of yore.  In the middle of town rose a gigantic bell tower, the likes of which you would be unlikely to see in an American town.  In Italy it is said that many people fall in love with the sound of their hometown bells and that they can discern it from any other bells in the country.  It was fascinating to think that this monolith sticking out from the sleepy hamlet could be such a unifying force.  

 As we walked the narrow streets we marveled at the integration of both new and old.  A town a thousand years old maintaining its pastoral charm while integrating the modern conveniences of the 21^st century.  As we would see throughout our trip, this integration is far from seamless, oftentimes we would walk by wires running along the sides of buildings until a hole was bored through 800 year old stucco to bring power to the inside.  Modern conveniences like indoor plumbing and showers would have to be incorporated into square footage not necessarily conducive to the comfort of a particular large American, and yet the charm was constant. 

 But back to the sights and sounds we were seeing in that moment.  We headed to the church, a square building whose exterior bespoke of its more modern lineage (around 1850).  Arthur wondered whether the Reformation would have gone this far south in Austria but it took two seconds inside the cavernous room to show the strength of Catholicism in the region.  It was a wonderfully ornate church, the first of many (Alex rolls her eyes) that we would tour.  In the square outside of the church a few of the locals were strolling by or gathering to chat.  On Sundays they all still make a point to wear traditional clothing.  Alex liked the idea of everyone in the town joining together to keep these traditions alive since wearing lederhosen by yourself can lead to being the brunt of a lot of jokes.  

 Outside of town we walked up a hill where buildings depicting scenes of the stations of the cross line the trail to the top.  This led up to a Roman fort.  Older than the town by centuries, the fort beckons back past the days of feudalism to the era of Roman imperial rule.  Never ones for taking the same path twice, we ventured down the back side of the hill on the Peace Trail surrounded by a fairy tale forest with mushrooms and toadstools that hearken back to the illustrated books of our youth.  

 We ambled back into town and Alex directed us towards the only restaurant open on Sunday evenings.  Alex had spinach dumplings and though the name was really, really German, Arthur basically had pork chops in the creamiest mushroom sauce you can imagine.  As would be our standard practice, we switched plates halfway through the meal so we could both experience twice as much food on this trip, spinach dumplings despite what you might imaging are actually quite tasty and filling.  By now it was dark and the weary travelers who couldn’t keep their eyes open during dinner headed back to the hotel for a well earned night's repose. And there we will leave them until tomorrow.  Omnia Vincit Amor.