Friday, October 4
Tirolo, Bolzano, Trentino-Alto Adige / Dorf Tirol, Bozen, Südtirol
As I came to consciousness on Friday morning in our suite overlooking Lake Garda, I recalled hearing rain most of the night. When I looked out the window in the daylight, it was relatively clear with some sprinkles now and again. I was happy to have finally got a long night's sleep, 10 hours on top of 12 the night before. I had been running a pretty high sleep deficit this whole trip.
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| Meran and Val d’Adige/Etschstal from our Deck in Dorf Tirol |
I parked for a second in a no parking area to load our bags and wouldn't you know that in that instant we were blocking in and pissing off a neighbor. In a hurry, we set off down the hill with the GPS set for Bolzano, our aim to have lunch and buy groceries there. In looking at the map the night before, I saw an overlook on our way up off the lake that would give us good views of Lake Garda, something that we had not had in the prior two days because of constant rain. I thought we might stop for a moment and maybe look at the lake from that high vantage just inside Trentino.
As we made our way north along the lake, in and out of tunnels and in a significant amount of traffic, I saw blue lights coming our direction. As the carabinieri cars neared, I could see they were escorting a long line of two-toned red and white vintage Ferraris, about two dozen in total. Each time I would see a high end Italian sportscar (very often; they were everywhere) I asked myself what is the point of having such a fast car in a country with very few roads where you can take it for a romp.
After leaving Lake Garda at Torbole, we started climbing the mountain to the east so that we could pick up the A22 heading north in Alto Adige. Quickly, we came to the hairpin turn where the overlook is situated. We were mired in heavy traffic in both directions; it was raining lightly and cloudy; and I did not fancy our chances of getting in and out of the tiny parking lot for the overlook. I passed on it and kept on heading towards the A22, our stay at Lake Garda pretty much a waste of time, money, and effort.
By the time we got to the A22, we noted that the architecture had changed as well as the directional signs and the voices on the radio. With every kilometer north, we got further and further into the historical area of Tirol that has been part of Italy since only very recent times. At the end of WWI, Italy annexed what is now the region of Trentino-Alto Adige. The road signs are posted in both Italian and German and every other radio station is broadcasting in German. There is some Italian spoken in Bolzano, but by the time we got to Meran, it was all German, with a notable Austrian twang.
Exiting the autostrada in the direction of Bolzano where we were going to eat lunch, I picked the wrong line—cash only. Heretofore, I had not seen a single exit booth that accepted only cash. Good thing I had cash. The machines are a little confusing with slots for toll tickets, for bills, for coins, for bill returns, and coin returns. I got through it without issue, but fortunately, I watched the truck driver in front of me and took my notes from that.
It was easy enough to get to Bolzano following the A22 along the rain-swollen and ripping Adige River, but traffic in town was an utter nightmare. We did not know that Friday is market day and everybody and his brother comes to town for market day. Holy hell, what a fustercluck! Still, I pushed on slowly, into first gear to creep a bit forward, back to neutral, shifting hundreds and hundreds of times going in the direction of the restaurant we had selected.
Our host in Dorf Tirol had sent us a list of suggestions and we picked a traditional Alpine-style restaurant from her list. We were looking forward to a plate of Speck, a nice Schnitzel, and some Knödel perhaps with a bottle of local Pinot Grigio or a cold beer.
After 30 minutes of stop and go, we arrived in the vicinity of our restaurant to find that the local polizei had closed the street and were directing people away. A cop was gesturing at me violently to keep moving along through the roundabout. We tried heading another direction and letting the GPS find another route, but it took us down a tiny cobblestone street that 100 meters on was closed off with bollards. It was all I could do to get the Jeep turned around in that narrow space.
After all this nonsense, I made an executive decision and asked Mr. Sulu to plot a course for Meran, a much smaller town closer to our final destination where perhaps we could find calm, parking, and lunch. We aimed for the train station because in most towns there is a lot of parking at the station. Infuriatingly, we found that as we got closer to the station we were in the same sea of cars that we had experienced in Bolzano. And this traffic mix included dozens of buses, because the station in Meran does double duty as both the train and bus station.
Unfortunately, Friday is market day in Meran as well and the market stalls took over all the parking lots by the Stazione. Given the hellish traffic and pedestrian congestion, we gave up on the idea of finding a restaurant in favor of hitting the local Aldi for groceries and a quick bite to eat for lunch (also breakfast). Aldi was a mere two blocks away, a matter of 2-300 meters.
Unfortunately, this store is situated on a one-way street and we would have to backtrack to get there. The GPS tried to take us through the closed off market streets on two different occasions. Finally, I got us beyond the market, but just barely, and we arrived at Aldi 40 minutes later, sometimes moving ten feet, sometimes waiting for minutes as hundreds of pedestrians flooded the street in front of us.
After so much struggle to get there, we found a great parking spot at Aldi in their tiny parking lot. As grocery stores in America go, this Aldi was tiny, but it had plenty of selections. We stocked up on food and wine for some of our stay in Dorf Tirol, high up on a mountain above Merano. Again, I was shocked at how little food and drink cost in Italy. In this German-speaking part of Italy, I was surprised that all the store employees were speaking Italian.
After snacking a quick lunch/breakfast in the car in the parking lot, we headed in the direction of Dorf Tirol. The trip out of town was bumper-to-bumper and stop-and-go, but ultimately we got moving faster. The GPS estimated 31 minutes but it was actually about 40 for the drive. The main street through Dorf Tirol is narrow, one lane in places, first gear steep, and on a Friday market day, teeming with pedestrians. On a good weather day, a lot of these pedestrians would be hiking in the provincial park above town rather than flooding the streets of town. A cursory glance about showed that it might be a really cute village, but I really had my eye on the gazillions of pedestrians trying to cross the street.
We followed the directions from Franziska, our host, which asked us to climb above the village center and then follow the farnhaus (“fern house”) signs, farnhaus being the name of their home. Although the GPS had us continuing straight for another 400 meters, the signs clearly guided us into a driveway ending at a modern house in an alpine style.
Not having any idea what our end goal looked like (Ann booked all our stays and I never thought to look at the house on their web site), the GPS left us uncertain if we were in the correct place. A quick text to Franziska cleared that up and she met us, smiling, at the door. Our hateful travel ordeal had come to a close with a warm welcome.
Perched on a mountainside at 2700 feet, the farnhaus sits about 1700 feet above the town of Meran and offers expansive views of the Val d’Adige/Etschstal below and on a sunny day, 180 degrees of snow-capped Ötztal Alps behind us and the Dolomites further to the east.
Franziska, who speaks amazing English, showed us our suite on the first floor of their house in which her husband's parents live on the second floor while she, her husband, and their two boys occupy above that. We could not have asked for a nicer or better appointed suite. The house is interestingly modern in an ancient part of the world while being extremely comfortable.
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| Private Deck Overlooking Meran |
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| Glass of Travel Stress Relief in Hand |
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| Happy to No Longer Be in the Car |
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| Chestnuts Everywhere on the Mountainside |
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| Apples Everywhere; In the Middle of Harvest |
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| Schloss Tirol in Dorf Tirol Below Us |
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| The Seilbahn from Dorf Tirol up into the Provincial Park |
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| Snow on the Ötztal Alps; Tiny Farm Villages Below These Alps Run the Border Between Italy and Austria (10km distant) |
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| A Wayward Pettirosso or European Robin |
On approaching the stovetop in our room, I had flashbacks to a family reunion in Maine where we rented a house with a similar glass cooktop. It took every bit of an hour to get that stove in Maine to boil a pot of pasta water. In this case, it took an entire episode of a Netflix show, 45 minutes, to come to a boil. The following morning, as I was trying to make coffee, I would find that the burner I was using has a not-so-secret switch to activate both its heating elements, an inner and an outer. Pressing this switch would greatly speed up the process versus using the smaller inner element. Live and learn!
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| Highlight of the Day: Paccheri with 'Nduja |
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