Italia -- Quarto Giorno

Fourth Italy Day
(October 31, 2007)

Cormayeur had all the qualities of a snug and inviting petite town nestled in the midst of mammoth mountains.


I gazed from my balcony at the adorable abodes and eyes needed not to strain to see much farther before vision halted at the impenetrable Alps on all sides but seemed to easily penetrate infinitely through the blue sky up top. It was a gorgeous dawn with cerulean stretched across the sky.
The thicket of cone-bearing xanthous and green trees made it hard to tell if the mountains had any rock beneath them at all. All the color and nature made the lovable and charming dwellings stand out. More so because of their unique, one-of-a-kind roofs made of dolomite...yes, dolomite! Gracefully chiseled and elegantly arranged...They were exceptional!

Uncontained eagerness to capture as much mountain time as would fit encouraged us to drive north into the Alps towards Switzerland that morning. The mountains looked familiar and homely. Awe had gradually given way to dispassionate absorption, detailed observation and novel approaches to appreciation of beauty. I knew the mountains now and they knew me. They seemed to advance upon us in massive scale as we cut through on the autostrada. They were gigantic, in volumes so great that they caused obliteration of any memory of how plane land would look. Thick, alternating bands of yellow and green conifers rolled along and blanketed their inclines.

To be continued......

Italia -- Terzo Giorno

Italy day three
(October 30, 2007)

Relaxed morning of Stresa found me waking up to the view of Lago Maggiore and caused for me a missed breakfast. Or not quite. I was starting to like this tradition. My considerate companions had served my bedside table with a plateful and it meant for me the luxury of not having to hike two flights of stairs as I scramble to put the world in perspective.

Dense fog covered Lago Maggiore just outside of the balcony and fine trees queued up at the margin separating the lake from the road. My breakfast buddy listened to my gibberish and I was glad to seize that luxury as well. The Italian morning was so relaxed and easygoing, I could hardly take it.


Stresa is known to attract tourists and turned out to be the only touristy place on our on-the-fly itinerary. It is a popular vacation hideout for many Europeans and is thus amenity-rich. Clouds covered most of the mountain and island views but the fine-looking landscaping in gardens of the grand villas along the lake front compensated for it. We spent quite some time browsing the precious and semi-precious stone shop, took long walks by the lake and watched the playing ducks. It was easiest to fulfill my magnet wish in Stresa and I was thrilled to hear myself utter few Italian words with the air of a seasoned Italian to the shopkeeper. How could I already feel so comfortable in a completely unfamiliar country; not feel alienated due to my lack of knowing the language? Why was I not Lost in Translation?


After having reveled in the breathtaking beauty of dolomites, Steve craved the Alps. And so did we. We could not wait to get to the snow-studded summits and drove tirelessly looking for Aosta Valley to bring ourselves to the heavenly destination. It was quite a dream to be in the Italian Alps. I was enchanted by the thought of having the chance to see a wonder so matchless as Mont Blanc. Clouds hung midair in the mountains and created a dreamlike aura around any scene. Scintillating white snow clothed the otherwise bare mountain peaks and arrestingly overhung against the black Alpine rocks.

Hiding and seeking of the rock black and snow white behind the clouds beckoned one's imagination to wander in the almost inaccessible paths of the Alpine crests and troughs. Our imagination must have made up its mind to explore one such path that day. Cormayeur was going to be the resting place that night. Entry into Cormayeur was dramatic. We were stopped short by the appearance of an amber-colored, agile animal of innocuous size. Taller and much slender than a racoon with a gracefully carried tail. It surely was a fox! Some shade of orange, as it looked then, in the dark, with extremely curious, questioning, glowing eyes. It was calling us, drawing us to the mystic vista point encircled by Alpini. We were reassured of having reached the Val de Ferret (valley of the foxes)! The valley had lived upto its name and was resolute in its intention to lure us. Magnificent Mont Blanc towered on the left and as we parked the car at the rounded dead end, we saw the appearance of some more amber. There it was, another fox! This one seemed much more composed than the introductory one and patiently waited to give us a chance to excitedly observe it and even capture its sleekness in pictures if we wished. Murphy does not fail to act up in critical time slices like that. Cameras had either battery or flash or other such mundane problems and having given us enough of its precious time and even having posed, the amber sensation, disappointed by our incapacity but still happy to see us, decided to bid farewell. It almost made us forget about the Alps and the valley itself for which we now got the opportunity. We enjoyed the aphotic night, rather the alpine evening precociously turned into night, where stars, moon and anything denoting the faintest light was covered by the clouds.

Cormayeur seemed fast asleep although it was still quite early in the evening. The quietness and darkness at that rounded, forsaken cul-de-sac with behemoth mountains encompassing the line of sight in all directions, dispensed to it an eerie peculiarity. The fog and the snow aggrandized the specialness of the setting. We were determined to probe into the mountains till we could go no further. While we drove unyieldingly into the dark, my mind wandered the paths of what would become of me were I to be left behind at any spot on that uncanny route. The flowing river that ran parallel seemed like the only moving thing besides us. The headwaters of the whole valley met us during this excursion. High up in the mountains, a stream, and another, joining up in Cormayeur and then with others flowing south to feed the whole Aosta valley in the form of River Dora Baltea. Running along the complete length of the Val Ferret is the Dora di Ferret river which is born, impetuous, at the foot of the Prè de Bar glacier, as one Cormayeur website describes. We were thrilled to have taken on this unplanned adventure of not stopping till stopped. And eventually we were stopped. The way to going any further was blocked. It was the most private, remote and desolate spot.
Was it the French border or that the road simply didn't exist beyond there? We had no idea and we could care less except that we could have dug farther in had it not been blocked. This was the end point of Val Ferret. The only sign indicating that any soul would ever venture there was the signboard showing the map of Val Ferret. It was surreal. I felt like I was sucked into a movie scene. Pitch-dark night, snowy trees, gigantic Mont Blanc befriending other mammoths of the Alpine range and streams meandering around in the valley; it was for me a natural wonder. The golden peaks of the dolomites will have to accommodate with it, Val Ferret in the first position. Light was completely absent except for what our car would choose to emanate. The atramentous night had a starless, cloudy sky. The most amazing thing happened when cotton-like, shimmering snow started to shower and surely enough my mind started running out of adjectives to describe the experience even in thoughts. A few unsuccessful attempts of taking pictures in the tenebrous setting later, it dawned upon us to quit trying. Not only because it was no time to spend on quotidian things like cameras but also because we surrendered to the fact that no man-made eye could capture that inexorably bewitching beauty. After some research, I found out that the blockage could have been either French or Swiss border; or it could have been that precise meeting point of France, Switzerland and Italy.

Phew, I was satiated. I could peacefully go home now with half the trip still remaining and feel like I had come back from a fulfilling and refreshing month-long vacation.

As soon as we got back to the civilization and the haze wore off, hunger took its toll. We had forgotten about all else and it had gotten quite late in looking for a hotel as well as food. After an hour of desperate but successful hotel-hunting, we unloaded and rushed to look for an open restaurant. The restaurant at walking distance from the hotel was the one to serve us what I would call the worst meal of the trip. The soup was nothing but stringy cheese. But, it was all good. Who cared about good food that day? Besides, the topic of conversation that dinner was boyfriends/girlfriends, love lives, first kisses etc. How would hot soup rate when compared with so much hot gossip?!

We got back to the hotel to realize my cellphone had decided to stay back. A phone call to the unfriendly restaurant owner found Pete and me running frantically as a reaction to the threat of losing the cellphone for the night. It was not a bad exercise, I must admit. Besides, we were thankful we even got the phone back! The restaurant owner had seemed hostile towards American tourists and despite my repeated attempts during dinner to convince them(in English) that I was not an American, the only person who showed some sympathy was a fellow-customer. He nodded cluelessly and acknowledged my crazy talk in an alien language. What was I thinking? I was hardly able to convince Pete that I was not just another California girl! His teasing provoked a patriotic "No Pete, I AM AN INDIAN" reminder at least thrice a day. Traveling with these crazy Americans is not easy, I could tell that much.

The hotel was cold and this was going to be the night of jet lag making its presence felt for me. But several wonderful episodes of Wonderfalls made me survive the cold night; I completed my long hair-washing ordeal as well as my first official breakfast-room breakfast before anyone else even saw the daylight.

Italia -- Secondo Giorno

I have two Italy day
(October 29, 2007)

Day two started with the best motel breakfast one could expect. Nuts of every kind, fruits of every kind, breads of every kind, cereals of every kind and more were laid out in front of us to choose from. I was late for breakfast as usual and my co-travelers waited anxiously as I took my own sweet time to get out of the cozy bed and get ready to stuff myself up. Steve was the most patient of all, as usual, and as others started gradually dropping out while I relished the bounteous breakfast, he stayed on to watch me eat like a pig. I have always wondered -- was he born with such plentiful patience or is it that he simply likes pigs… Either case would explain a lot of things for me…

A walk around Bolzano followed the stuff-uppery. The gorgeous church gazing, the window shopping, the picture taking and the lazy loitering filled the time gap between leaving for the mountains and Steve's getting ready (and no, he did not get delayed because of my breakfast!). The church had a fascinating roof composed of colorful, lovely roof tiles. Some day some part of my house will have Bolzano-church-inspired roof tiles, I decided -- only to change my decision some two days later in favor of the dolomite roof tiles in Cormayeur. The conical top of the church tower was another elaborate and involved piece of carving.

We drove further transversely following the same northeast path. More into the dolomites towards Cortina. Innsbruck was only a stone-throw distance away at one point and we were tempted to cross over to Austria. But, that being one of the many places I did have the visa for, we decided against it. What's the fun in painlessly crossing the border anyway?

Dolomites were stunning. Limestone presented itself in all its glory. Ravishing red, brown and gray shades of carbonate minerals against the gorgeous green and yellow shades of the conifers and other flora made for splendiferous contrast. The brief, picturesque hike we took on top of a mountain pass was one to die for. We walked around and hiked different paths and met and separated. The casual chitchat sitting on a rock on top of the grassy slope was something, I felt then, I could continue forever. But all good things must end to give way to better ones. Had we but world enough and time…

A better pass waited for us just around the corner or should I say just around the mountains; mountains that were all around. Passo Pordoi it was. Here is where we finally hit some truly chilled mountain air. On top of the pass was a quaint little souvenir shop, just for me, so I could buy the long-yearned refrigerator magnet to enhance my collection. There were ski lifts indicating that the slopes around must make for great ski slopes in winter. Dolomiti surrounded us in all directions. I envied the young lady working at the souvenir shop and fancied a quiet life in the mountains away from and out of the Matrix.

A few more passes and we were well at the twilight hour. Now was going to bring the natural climax of the trip. We raced for a view window where the sun and mountains would peek from behind the trees. What we saw now, no matter how hard one tried, could possibly not lend itself to being described effectively enough in words. As the sun went down in the mountains, it gave rise to a spectacular formation – my favoritest scenic sight -- the formation that crowned the mountain tops with pure gold. It was hard to make yourself believe that this was only the sunlight and the colors of it and how it played around with the mountains during that time of the hour. It could not have been anything other than real gold or at least its veneer. It was equally hard to believe that this was not permanent; just a temporary formation that lingered for a very small part of the day. We were awe-stricken by the wondrousness of this orgasmic view.

As we drove away, I realized that this stupendous sight had significantly augmented my repertoire of lifetime cherishables.

Driving, laughter, chin-wag and jokes pursued as we headed southwest to a marvelous meal in Rovereto and as we leisurely recovered from the pleasant hangover left behind from having experienced the natural high point. Merriment and natter continued at the dinner table where wonderful wine contributed to intensifying the pleasure. I generously feasted on the wine while waiting for the feast. We discussed everything from my school to when I would get married and how many kids I would like to have (why yes, that did feel like everything to me!).
My attempt to nudge, or rather force the conversation in a different direction found Steve rivaling against me over the classic Harvard-Stanford issue.
Although I pondered, throughout the conversation, about why it was even a question that an uptight Harvardian could be better than a cool Stanford grad, I must admit I did have fun during that friendly row. On a more serious note though, Stanford rocks! (I already hear Steve say "Hail Harvard!"). We must make one highly loyal Ivy League alumni pair!

Pete soon decided it was time to put a stop to the narcissism. There were other people at the table too, you know! The next fifteen minutes were consumed by yet another interesting topic – the topless Italian woman in a picture frame that stared right at our table. The aroma of the food that gradually arrived made us drift away from everything else though. Oh what a meal! I still miss the perfectly cooked lentils with just the perfect amount of condiments.

Oh no, the day was still not over. Stresa was on the cards for that night which meant driving quite a ways west to just a little bit north of Milan. Steve took charge of the driver's seat and as others decided to sleep in the back seats, I took the passenger seat. We just reiterated, a short while ago, loving that partnered drive. iPod chugged away in the car as a result of my struggle to sync it to the clearest radio station. Singing along with the iPod and sometimes without it, we made it a memorable 4-5 hour drive. Sweetest songs streaming from the music machine and perfect company – life was good!

Between navigating and cursing the signboards, singing and enjoying the good times, we reached Stresa. It had been a long day and all we could think of was hitting the hay. (To)Morrow was almost there!

Italia -- Primo Giorno

Italia

Dec' 06 2007

Can't believe I am writing about Italy after so long. Can't believe I am writing about it now, today, out of all those monotonous work-home-grind days that had talking about Italy as the only high point. But here I am finally. I might stop right here today, I just needed to get started. I might need to live it and feel it again although I do that almost everyday. That's probably why I didn't write about it thus far; I kept fearing I would demean its beauty, the surrealistic quality of the expedition; I kept feeling the need to slip back in time and absorb it all over again; and last but not the least, I know I am not good at expressing my thoughts in words on paper (it does sound cool to say paper!), let alone having the ability to write something that is remotely close to being beautiful.

I have one Italy day

(October 28, 2007)

Dec' 12 2007

As I pick Italia back up, relentless ranks of geraniums in flower boxes that line the bottom edge of window frames and majestic fog-covered mountains flash before the eyes. Unrelieved rows of vineyards gently lining the slopes of the foothills constitute the third of the three major highlights that instantly appear in mind.



As we drove directly from the Milan airport into the mountains, diagonally towards the northeast, after a night-long flight, I was bedazzled by the mountainous beauty. The highway was lined on both sides with colossal mountains wearing fog hats. The endless vineyards covering their slopes would leave anyone wondering, 'just how much wine does this country drink?' I felt like a joyful little girl who was lost in dreams of a fairyland and although I didn't want it to be any different, I think I was happier to see the sign-boards in Italiano and remembering the Italian-speaking people at the airport, confirming that I was actually living my dream! That I was not just dreaming the dream! That I was really in Italia!

I went into a picture-taking frenzy the rest of the way. We stopped at a mercato to buy some refreshments and marveled at the extensive bread section. Having stocked up for the journey, we made our way to Bolzano while being wowed, at every other moment, by the charms of Italia.



As soon as we started entering the core of the dolomites, we stopped at quite a few scenic spots and little mountain towns. The best way, according to Pete, was to look for the centro of the town in order to get oriented. We walked around the centro to experience the guts of Italia and take in the quaintness and the historic look and feel of the towns. Lunch at one such little town was marked by our first delightful Italian vino bianco. The potato and pumpkin soup was delectable. Most exciting was to watch Steve gobble down a wild boar that was ordered for him, with great élan, by our American host in Italy. It looked like huge cubical chops of some soft black-colored material and I was staring at him in wonder each time as he exclaimed "delicious!" after slowly masticating and savoring each piece and nodding his head in slow motion, as if in approval of his own proclamation.


And then on with the rest of the drive…repeating the ritual of stopping, absorbing, enjoying and moving on. Weather had made up its mind to like us. Afternoon sun was tender and extremely enjoyable. It was great to finally jump into the shower at the fancy hotel we checked into in Bolzano. Beautiful cozy town, this Bolzano… Just like most other towns, elegantly laid cobblestone comprised the streets here. Another striking feature was the medieval-looking iron wall pieces adorning one of the top corners of almost every shop's entrance door. The fabulous giant fountain in the center of the square was an admirable piece of stone sculpture. And the gelataria right in front of it, where we had our first Italian gelato, was like icing on the cake! I had a sinful four-layer gelato with berry, tiramisu, strawberry and choco chip layers.


Like wandering gypsies, we hopped into the car again and continued to perform the aforementioned ritual. Dinner stop had to be made in Trento and this time it was my first Italian pizza. Striving to not dote on the exotic meals, characteristics of Trento is the successive interesting thing to describe. Fed and full, we arrived at the centro to complement our dinner with dessert and coffee. The centro in Trento had another such splendid fountain and a charming, exquisite church square. The church was a masterpiece of ornate architecture and intricate carvings. Tall ceilings and enormous length imparted to it an air of such magnificence as could only be expected from a millennium-old house of worship. We sauntered slowly through the church soaking in all the impressive details. The walls had resplendent frescoes and the pillar-bases were fantastic Greek-looking creatures. Cinzia and I thought those looked like pharaohs and concluded there was Egyptian influence in the architecture only to be corrected by our learned fellow-travelers who diplomatically pointed out that our knowledge of history was fundamentally flawed. Nevertheless, we found those extremely attractive.
Among all the symmetrically and harmoniously laid out shapes and carvings was something that denoted purposefully introduced chaos. It struck us and suddenly stood out as most distinguishing; certain of these pillars had a graceful knot in the middle; it looked as if the pillars had been malleable and the stone worker had carefully twisted them to form these clean, tidy knots. What intrigued us, however, was the randomness with which such a knotty pillar would curiously show up in the midst of a row of otherwise plain pillars. There was no apparent pattern and as we walked away, we flirted with various possibilities including some self-flattering, genius-sounding cryptographic ideas.

After one long day of driving, celebrating togetherness, cherishing the mountains, observing Italy and strolling around the cobblestone-studded streets of Bolzano and Trento, we retired into our hotel rooms. To contrast with the historical, antiquated and natural marvels that we had seen, a comparably pleasing thing was to find a laptop in each of the rooms for complimentary usage by the guests. So much for avoiding laptop-contact for the length of the Italy trip! There I was, responding away to emails from my friends back in the US of A. My Italian roommate, Cinzia, performed somewhat of a similar rite which reassured me of not being too abnormally addicted to this gadget when compared to bigenarians from even the other side of the world.