We forgo a (wet and humid) Auckland summer for a winter experience in the European Alps…

plus a bit of Roma and Puglia thrown in for good measure..

Europe 2023

Italians ski like they drive. It is one mad shit-fight to get down the slopes intact. Skiers and boarders fly past at ridiculous speeds and well out of their lane. There appear to be no rules – they stop where they want to stop, which is often just below the surface of a drop so you can’t see them until you are virtually crashing into them (that is just the instructors!). Gaggles of them block the entry to the chair lifts while they kiss and chat and wave their hands, and laughing groups heartily slam shots of grappa for breakfast. Its basically a big ole free for all, with no ski patrol in sight.

We drove to the ski resort in the Benta Dolomite mountains through the most idyllic picture postcard villages. Though seemingly untouched by modern utility, these quaint and historic towns are moving with the times. Every second ancient stone Pensione or traditional painted Hotel is now a ‘Wellness Centre’. The exact point at which we all became so unwell is unclear to me, but Italians seemingly have an abundance of need.

As if in a film, opera was playing in our hotel lobby when we arrived, and a smartly dressed Italian chap was shouting loudly into his phone and gesticulating wildly. In Italy, all phones are on speaker at all times. Intimate conversations are had inside elevators, on chair lifts, in the street. What does it matter if others don’t wish to hear you discussing your bowel movements – this is Italy, I do what I want! (I’m pretty sure they are discussing bowel movements as the only foods available are pasta, pizza or bread dumpling, ergo the processing issues they must have).

There are utterly no considerations made for those who choose to not eat gluten or meat. In fact, all meals consist primarily of these two components and are washed down with the highly acidic red wine of the mountain regions followed by a highly acidic coffee. There are no gluten free, vegetarian, tee-totalers to be found. They can’t survive.

After 10 glorious days skiing amongst the beautiful people (tight white ski pants, designer sunglasses, rugged stubbled handsome chins, white teeth and huge bottles of champagne all set to the techno remakes of Bee Gees music) we caught the train down to Rome. Having arrived at the departure station a few hours early (we all know Tony’s penchant for being on time), we took refuge from the cold in the local café, albeit not for long. As we were being shooed out by the staff, I explained to a couple of dazed looking Americans that the café was closing for lunch. He looked deeply puzzled for a moment and then nodding sincerely, with absolutely no trace of irony said, “What a great business opportunity.”

After a couple of days in Rome with our friends, whose amazing apartment is just across from the Forum (Roman downtown) and Circus Maximus (chariot racing as per Ben Hur), the four of us piled into a mouse coloured Mini and set off for the region of Puglia.

Puglia is in the ‘heel’ bit, and has a deeply distinctive regional air (as does the whole of Italy). The unique Trulli cottages of Alberobello were originally built around the 14th century to store grain. Over time they became temporary homes, as only permanent residences were subject to tax. The decorated top stones were pulled whenever the tax-collector came calling, and the entire untaxed dwelling collapsed in on itself - a bit like Trump’s empire.

The cave dwellings of Matera are one of the few sites in the world that have been consistently occupied since Palaeolithic times, which is at least 11,650 years before present (although can go as far as 300, 000 years). In 1945 they were heralded as Italy’s shame, as the inhabitants were disease ridden, flea-infested and starving. Quite a lot of gunk builds up over 12,000 odd years. These days, visitors pay exorbitant fees to stay in luxury accommodations, complete with in-cave swimming pools and gourmet restaurants. Check out this listing if you are stuck for what to get us for Christmas next year https://www.jamesedition.com/real_estate/matera-italy/estate-in-old-matera-12065190. We happened upon an amazing Salvador Dali exhibition housed in a cave church, where ancient frescoes adorned the walls and gravesites were dug into the ceilings (from above).

Throughout the region there are impressive olive groves with gnarled trees up to 3000 years old, and tiny white stone towns that appear clamped to every hilltop. These highly defensible townships are a remnant of pre-unification times when ‘Italy’ was just a collection of city states, each with their own dishes, culture and cheese. It wasn’t until 1861 that Italy became a unified Kingdom, hence the strong regional sway. Even Rome was not a part of Italy until 1871, and some regions did not join until 1918. Messy from the get go.

From Puglia, we returned to Rome (with a small detour to Pompeii) where we met up with Riley and Becca.

We had a splendid few days exploring Rome, eating and walking and eating, and being charged €25 for two coffees! Furkin tourist traps. We four said our goodbyes to Jenny and Lindsay and caught the overnight train from Rome to Salzburg. The trip was much improved by a non-English speaking conductor, who for some delightful reason provided us with several bottles of Prosecco gratis. Bless. After a couple of days exploring Salzburg, we said our goodbyes to the girls and headed back into the mountains for more snow fun.

Travelling around Europe has changed considerably. Once upon a time it was easy to spot Kiwi travellers, as we all wore the uniform of adidas track pants and sweatshirts. German travellers had reading glasses with a subtle purple tint, and folks from the USA have long worn a fake tan, beige chinos and Osprey backpacks. However now that the world shops from global mega-chains, such points of difference are a challenge to discern. We were convinced that a gaggle of women we saw lunching at one of the gorgeous little restaurant/bars on the ski slopes in Saalbach Austria were from the USA. They had all the hallmarks – designer label ski-kit, ostentatious diamond rings, and hair coloured to look like they were Barbie’s grandmother. BUT, they started to drink alcohol - unamerican. What would the puritan Supreme Court have to say about that appalling and immoral behaviour? They had to be Norwegian. The Dutch are easy to pick by their sheer size - they tower over everyone else and have to fold themselves to get into the gondolas. Aussies on the other hand remain consistently easy to spot. We watched as one young Aussie entranced a group of Europeans tourists with his wild tales of surviving the perils of the Australian outback solo and surfing alongside 20 metre Great White sharks (“yeah, really mate. It was about from here to that Aperol spritz on the far table…”). No surprises there….

We are back in Italy at a different field (Sestriere) watching a very Italian helicopter pilot pull an entirely unnecessary but very showy flare (helicopter headstand) in a bright yellow chopper. Typico! It dumped 50cm on us last night and is still snowing. Tony says he organised it that way. The amount of terrain in these mountains is vast, and we have regularly covered 70+ km in a day. Although not this day. We both have had covid, and are sitting here, watching heavy snow pile up against our window and feeling a bit shit. The plan is to ski across to France on the morrow in search of fruit or vegetables. We shall see what our ailing bodies have to say about that.

Hoping all is grand with those of you still bothering to read this.

Loads of love

Steph and Nino (the 4th)