Day 11: The Dolomites and Alpe di Siusi

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Friday, July 01, 2011

I am beginning to forget what day of the week is it. Mostly I’ve been counting the days in terms of how long my stay in a particular town is. Today is day three of my Bolzano stay.

”Dov’e una bus per Siusi?”
This morning I skipped out on the simple breakfast offered by the hostel and set out to get on the bus for Siusi (See-oo-see) to catch the lift to the big and popular alpine meadow. I got to a bus stop in time, it was just not the right one. Bolzano has several major bus stops, and my miscalculation ended up costing me an hour wait for the next bus. Fortunately, it took me less than an hour to find the correct bus terminal.

The Road to Hana… Oops, I mean Siusi
The ride to Siusi was a short distance in miles (or kilometers) but it took over an hour to get there. Our big bus sped around hairpin turns and barreled through one-way tunnels, which reminded me of the cliff-hanging road in Maui, Hawaii. I made the assumption that we were not going to roll over the side of the cliff, and therefore had a great time watching the scenery pass by. The region is a major wine producer, and vineyards cover the 45-degree angled slopes of the mountains.

Gateway to the Dolomites
The bus stops right at the lift station, and so with little effort I navigated to the ticket office and boarded one of the gondolas up to the meadow. The lift up to Compatsch took about 20 minutes. Although I wanted a gondola to myself, the platform was crowded at 10:30am in the morning, and I shared a ride with a bunch of hikers my grandparents’ age. I have no idea how these people do it – I have never seen so many fit and active people in their 70’s in the U.S. As we increased in elevation, the views on the ride opened up to a giant green space for as far as I could see, with the Dolomites in the distance. The meadow is not flat, but extremely hilly and dotted with pine tree groves.

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Cowbells
Cows are more or less turned loose in the meadow in the summer time, and to find them, the herders use cowbells. Lots and lots of cowbells, in fact. As we sailed over one herd in particular, I heard the pleasant chiming of the bells below. But as we got closer, the chiming turned into clanking from about 50 cows. That is too much cowbell.

Once at Compatsch I found a café with simple sandwiches, to make up for missing breakfast. As I ate, I decided where I wanted to go in the meadow. Nearly every little hamlet had a restaurant (and quite frequently a hotel), so I would not have to search hard for lunch. But there was the question of how much walking I wanted to do. Not much, really.

The Easy Way Up
Go on vacation with a lazy person and you will find interesting ways to see as much as possible while doing as little walking as possible. I took a bus up to Saltria, about 15 minutes away, and then caught a short chair lift up to Williams. This was the first open chair list I had been on, and it was awesome! The wind was in my face and there was only a handle bar between me and a long drop. Once at Williams, I hiked on a very established path downhill for about ten minutes and came to Zallinger, my lunch destination.

Lunch in Germany
I sat on a carved wooden bench with a cushion protecting my butt from the splinters and warily eyed the menu. It was in German and Italian, neither of which I know well enough to understand a list of food items beyond “gelato.” My server began rambling in German, and my wide-eyes look must have been a clue that he was using the wrong language setting. In Alpe di Siusi, a majority of the workforce spoke German first, then Italian. And a large portion of the tourists were also German, so it only made sense to assume using that language first. I was not one of those tourists, however. I asked the server what he had besides pasta, and I was presented weinderschnitzel (spelling?) and fried potatoes. The fried potatoes were actually french fries, but it is faux pas to eat them with your hand. So for the first time in my life, I ate French fries with a fork. I prefer the barbarian method. My lunch of meat and potatoes was greasy and delicious.

Goats Always Make Me Laugh
Before heading back to Williams, I spotted some goats in a small corral. One had found a hole in the fence and trotted happily to the wild flower patch nearby. The other goats made the biggest fuss I have ever seen, bleating and carrying on. Clearly this was unapproved behavior. The mama goat made the loudest and most obnoxious noise of them all, and I couldn’t help but take a video. These German/Italian goats sound much funnier than American goats. A man emerged from a nearby building to take control of the situation.

I AM in Shape… Round is a Shape
The path back to Williams was uphill, and seemed much steeper from this direction than when I went down the hill. I was full of lunch and at 6,000+ feet in elevation, so I felt that my body had an excuse. However, my ego had no excuse, as I watched marathon joggers pass me on the path. Oh yes, people in their 50’s, skinny as a rail, were jogging up and down the paths in the meadow. Sucking in breath and struggling to make it up the hill in a timely manner, I cursed these crazy people. Had they no sensitivity for my dignity?

Last Night in Bolzano
The return journey to Bolzano was uneventful. A chairlift, a crowded bus ride, another lift, and another bus ride later and I was back at my hostel. My evening was pretty quiet after that. I strolled the town for an hour, enjoying my daily gelato. The hostel had a set of washers and dryers, and I took advantage of this opportunity to really clean my clothes. For the bargain price of €4, my wardrobe was completely washed and dried. As I sat in the common room, working on my computer, the song “Gimmie Some Lovin’” by the Blues Brothers came on the radio. I laughed out loud upon hearing it. First, it’s from my sister’s favorite movie, and I’ve inadvertently watched it countless times. And second, what is a Chicago Blues song from the 1970’s doing on Italian radio? Following this most exciting domestic chore, I finished my bottle of wine and repacked my suitcase.

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Photos

Joggers
People my parents' age were RUNNING in these mountains