Apres ski

I AM NOT DEAD, nor even wounded.

We landed, after the customary Ryanair horrors and a beautiful view of The Alps, at an airport humorously appellated "Milano" but actually situated just outside of Bergamo in Lombardy, Northern Italy. The outskirts of northern Bergamo, from what I saw of them from the transfer bus, are a rather unpleasant jumble of derelict shacks, attractive traditional residential buildings, industrial units and factories. I guess that's what you get when you actually have room to build things.

Eventually, we arrived at a totally snow-less Bratto in Castione della Presolana. Bratto nestles amongst the Italian Alps on the fringes of the Dolomites just downhill of two ski resorts, Localita Donico (AKA Presolana, a natural nursery slope perfect for n00bs like me) and Monte Pora (an immense mountaintop snowfield designed for show-offs and lunatics, visible as an enormous bright UFO hovering above Bratto by night). Come the next day, however, the whole place was blanketed with white, and the slopes lost in cloud, leading to the occasional exciting white-out.





On the first day I tried skiing. I am not a natural skiier. Acquitted myself quite well tho, along with maracacha and Timofo, but wiped them both out along with the ski instructor by being totally unable to snowplough. Day two and three were spent with konekosaru, maracacha and Timofo under the watchful eyes of hobbit_dave, Antarctic Ben and afm13, who actually TAUGHT US HOW TO SNOWBOARD. That's right, this 35-year-old learned to actually drive a snowboard with some degree of competence! T and L are, of course, naturals. Fell over about a million times, leading us no other option than to discover the marvels of benessere: Turkish bath, hydromassage bath, Finnish sauna, freezing cold shower/Kniepp... if it weren't for that and the odd medicinal vin broulee I think I might not be walking now.

Italy, and especially Lombardy, turns out to be a highly carnivorous locality, at least in the winter months. I ate cinghiale (wild boar), cavallo (horse, EXTREMELY tasty), vitello (veal), anatra (duck) and I forget what other unfortunate creatures, an inordinate amount of amazing home-made pasta and MOUNTAINS of polenta. Polenta actually tastes of something in Italy... must investigate further... Vegetables (with the exception of mushrooms, of which there were an infinite number of varieties) were conspicuous by their absence, possibly because all the food available was actually fresh and in season. Special mention to the locally-made taleggio cheese. OH MY GOD.

Quite reassured to find that not only can I still do quite ferocious physical activity without dying, but that it's fun! Meeting a whole bunch of lovely new folks was great too. afm13 you have my eternal gratitude.

LETS DO IT AGAIN! (But this time.... FORWARDS!)

Apres ski

I AM NOT DEAD, nor even wounded.

We landed, after the customary Ryanair horrors and a beautiful view of The Alps, at an airport humorously appellated "Milano" but actually situated just outside of Bergamo in Lombardy, Northern Italy. The outskirts of northern Bergamo, from what I saw of them from the transfer bus, are a rather unpleasant jumble of derelict shacks, attractive traditional residential buildings, industrial units and factories. I guess that's what you get when you actually have room to build things.

Eventually, we arrived at a totally snow-less Bratto in Castione della Presolana. Bratto nestles amongst the Italian Alps on the fringes of the Dolomites just downhill of two ski resorts, Localita Donico (AKA Presolana, a natural nursery slope perfect for n00bs like me) and Monte Pora (an immense mountaintop snowfield designed for show-offs and lunatics, visible as an enormous bright UFO hovering above Bratto by night). Come the next day, however, the whole place was blanketed with white, and the slopes lost in cloud, leading to the occasional exciting white-out.





On the first day I tried skiing. I am not a natural skiier. Acquitted myself quite well tho, along with maracacha and Timofo, but wiped them both out along with the ski instructor by being totally unable to snowplough. Day two and three were spent with konekosaru, maracacha and Timofo under the watchful eyes of hobbit_dave, Antarctic Ben and afm13, who actually TAUGHT US HOW TO SNOWBOARD. That's right, this 35-year-old learned to actually drive a snowboard with some degree of competence! T and L are, of course, naturals. Fell over about a million times, leading us no other option than to discover the marvels of benessere: Turkish bath, hydromassage bath, Finnish sauna, freezing cold shower/Kniepp... if it weren't for that and the odd medicinal vin broulee I think I might not be walking now.

Italy, and especially Lombardy, turns out to be a highly carnivorous locality, at least in the winter months. I ate cinghiale (wild boar), cavallo (horse, EXTREMELY tasty), vitello (veal), anatra (duck) and I forget what other unfortunate creatures, an inordinate amount of amazing home-made pasta and MOUNTAINS of polenta. Polenta actually tastes of something in Italy... must investigate further... Vegetables (with the exception of mushrooms, of which there were an infinite number of varieties) were conspicuous by their absence, possibly because all the food available was actually fresh and in season. Special mention to the locally-made taleggio cheese. OH MY GOD.

Quite reassured to find that not only can I still do quite ferocious physical activity without dying, but that it's fun! Meeting a whole bunch of lovely new folks was great too. afm13 you have my eternal gratitude.

LETS DO IT AGAIN! (But this time.... FORWARDS!)