Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
Heading to the Dolomites, we were excited about the skiing that lay ahead, if a little nervous about how the van's heating might hold up.
But being so early in the ski season, the Dolomites had not yet had any snow, making skiing a little tricky to say the least. So we found a great little town called Merano, where we decided to wait a few more days to see if any snow might fall.
All we really knew about Merano is that it's a spa town, with thermal baths boasting 25 pools. That sounded good to us, so off we went for our relaxation ahead of our hard work on the piste, well aware that it is supposed to be the other way around.
Merano is lovely, and a Christmas lover's paradise. Every tree in town is covered in lights, every other shop is dominated by traditional Christmas displays, and the town is practically taken over at this time of year with a vast Christmas market selling all manner of cute knick knacks. Although I'm well informed by my more financially savvy husband that Christmas knick knacks are not in the budget for this trip (bah humbug!)
If you didn't know better, when in Merano you might wonder if you're in Italy or Germany. Most people seem to be speaking German, and walking into a shop or cafe it's 50/50 whether you'll be greeted in German or Italian, or perhaps even some strange hybrid of the two. When greeted in German, we stuck steadfastly to what we had learnt and replied in Italian regardless. Failing that, I'm reliably informed that English spoken very loudly will pretty much always be understood. And if not, just try speaking even louder. A great fall back option - thanks Greg!
We easily whiled away a few days in Merano, where we seemed to have the best of both worlds - a German-organised campsite in a town bursting with Italian charm and friendliness. And the food from either was always on offer too.
With the snow still not falling in the Dolomites (or the Italian Alps for that matter), it was becoming clear that we'd have to leave the Italian dream behind us a little sooner that we'd planned if we were going to ski at all. And if Bertha is good for anything, it's giving us the freedom to go wherever we want - exactly what we needed when the weather scuppered our plans.
So we loaded her up with Italian goodies before bidding arriverderci to Italy and guten tag to a little known Swiss town called Samnaun, currently boasting the best skiing that Europe has to offer. It also seems that Samnaun is home to some of the most expensive shops that Europe has to offer, which could be dangerous if the skiing thing doesn't work out so well...
Having scoped out ski hire, lift passes and some lessons, the next day we were ready to hit the slopes. Unsure whether I still knew how to put my skis and snow plough let alone get all the way down an actual ski run, I happily headed off to the beginner slopes while Josh tackled something more meaty. But I'm pleased to say that I did remember how to ski - just - so I spent a great morning taking on some blue runs and picking up tips from my Swiss instructor, while only managing to get one fall under my belt.
On the slopes, I soon discovered that Bertha and I have more in common than I first thought. On the size front we may differ, and I may not weigh 3.5 tonnes (even after eating nothing but pasta for two months), but when it comes to speed we are peas in a pod. Going down the slopes I am just like Bertha on the roads - I'll get there, but pretty much everyone else will overtake me on the way. That's my first thing to work on this week, along with stopping on purpose (not just through luck alone) and more controlled turns. I'd call that a pretty comprehensive to-do list for a week's skiing. And if I can make my way down my first red run by the end of the week, I'll be pretty happy with that.
- comments