“Most people get home at this time.” Read the message. And it was true that usually if I’m awake at
4am I’m either having a very big night or lying in bed having some kind of
existential crisis. Today it was neither,
I was up at 4am completely sober and getting kitted out for a trip up the
mountains. When I agreed to go to the
mountains with J I hadn’t really grasped the prospect of catching a 5.30 train
so I was very impressed that we both managed to get to the train station and
not roll over and go back to sleep when our respective alarms sounded at 4am. The trip was a bit of an epic first stop
Mestre where there was enough time for coffee before catching our connection to
Verona where we got the train for the mountains. Three hours after setting off and we finally
made it to our destination Bolzano.
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| Fairytale buildings |
Leaving the station I was struck by two thoughts one I was extremely
glad that I had thought about the temperature and rugged up and two I wondered
if we had crossed a border without realizing it. This felt more like Germany than Italy. All the signs were in German and cars stopped at
the zebra crossing. Our first port of
call was a cafe where we listened to everyone speaking German as we ate strudel. The architecture was a world away from the
arches and loggias of Treviso. This town
was definitely more central European than Mediterranean. Walking around the place I couldn’t shake the
feeling of being in a fairy tale as retold by the brothers Grimm and half
expected to turn a corner to find a gingerbread house.
The big draw was the Christmas market that
had opened the day before. Strolling
around the stalls selling glass baubles and Christmas fairies the Germanic feeling
was reinforced by the band kitted out in traditional Prussian gear striking up
in the main square. By 11 we were
totally down with the Germanic vibe and seeing as it felt like mid afternoon to
us it was time to partake in a piping hot mug of vin brulee – or rather
gluhwein and some sausage and sauerkraut. Most of my friends will attest that I
am not the best person in low temperatures (in fact I’m a complete whinging
pome at anything below 10 degrees) but taking a stroll in this mountain town
surrounded by snow covered mountains, with a crisp air and a bright winter sun
it didn’t seem so bad – lashings of warm wine probably helped. Spending practically my whole life on islands
(UK and Aus) it felt strange not crossing water to get to another culture (apologies
to Wales and Scotland.) I find the idea
of borders interesting how one culture blends into another. I wonder if the Bolzanans feel Italian or
Austrian? Or then again maybe they don’t
even think about it.
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| beginning to feel the Christmas spirit - or is that just the wine? |
By late afternoon
the early start was beginning to hit us and our energy was flagging. I’ve always said that Christmas is a place
and not a time and sitting outside a little bar, through an arch and down an
alley, next to Christmas trees, with blankets on our laps and the last glasses
of gluhwein warming our hands and bellies I really felt like I was there. As the light began to fade it was time to
begin the epic journey back to Italy and Treviso but I’m looking forward to a
return to this Germanic part of Italy.
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