Christmas Magic in Austria & Italy: Part 2 Vipiteno

Posted on January 2, 2017 by liguriansun

See Part 1: Christmas Magic in Austria & Italy: Part 1 Vienna

I rolled into Vipiteno, exhausted and excited for the mountain air vibe. I recognized the identifiable tower, and knew it was my stop. Vipiteno / Sterzing is the northernmost city in Italy, pure Tyrollean charm. As I have mentioned in previous posts, I’m in love with the fusion of Austrian and Italian culture you find in the Dolomites, a place where you can get a Bretzel mit Prosciutto and get naked in the spa for an Aufguss (special steam bath) and it’s not weird at all, then cap the evening off with a pizza.

I stood at the quiet train station, gazing up at the stars and wondering how I was going to get to my hotel, perched up on top of a mountain. I thought there would be some cabs around, but none at all. I was glad I had an international plan activated on my phone, so I called my hotel, and they sent a cab. While I waited, I Instagrammed:

hotel

Ahh that mountain air vibe! I’m up a mountain outside the little town of Vipiteno. Time for farm fresh dinner. I love love love this region! 💗Tyrol

In the meantime, I peeked at the hints of quaint homes up in the mountains, and tried to imagine the views I’d see tomorrow. The cab wound up and up and up, and then I began to wonder and worry that perhaps it was too far out of town. Would I be able to make the walk? Would it be nice? But as we pulled into the driveway, I could see stars even from the car, and the cozy glow from the windows let me know that, yes, I would love it here. It was affordable during a very popular time of year as many Italian families go away for a ski week at this time, and it featured fresh air and farm to table food. And that’s what I was excited for upon my arrival.

It’s always so exciting to drop my bags into a room after a day of travel and to know I have a place to call home. I crashed onto the bed and eventually peeled myself off, freshened up, and went downstairs. A solo female diner this time of year – a time for family and friends- was a bit of an anomaly, and they sat me in my own secluded section. Waiting for my food, I posted:

My dinner date and I have a private dining area to ourselves. 🍷📖

As a teacher, especially in the modern collaborative environment, I treasure “me” time, time where I can read, be alone with my own thoughts, relish the peace. So this little moment was my perfect welcome to Vipiteno. I was reading travel writing but can’t remember what the book was, perhaps A Day in Tuscany (but the author of Too Much Tuscan Sun).

After the hearty meal and vino, I drifted of to sleep in the cozy twin bed. In the morning, I was treated to the beautiful views I had been anticipating, but sadly not the snow.

hotel-views

What a beautiful start to my last day of 2015. I followed the mountain down to the town, and while it was not a short walk, it was lovely and enjoyable. I passed the local ski slopes, perched atop dry hills. Would I ski? It didn’t seem like the right weather, but I was hopeful that snow would be on the way.

Once into town, I could not get over the quaint, fairytale charm. It was pure magic.

town

The pastry shop featured a gingerbread replica of the main bell tower.

my first views of this quaint town

charming streets

markets

Tyrollean Tree

Snow dusted peeks in the background

The omnipresent bell tower

this image made it to my Christmas card this year (2016)

The buildings are advent calendars

This image made it to my card as well

Cute real evergreens from the local hills, posted around town

All the travel, all the hassles, all the stress of the season melted away as I wandered through the fairytale, excited for what would come next. It was just so darned cute! I have seen several Dolomite towns this time of year (Ok, 2 others) but this one was special, like straight out of a Christmas village. Eventually, I made it to the spa, where I enjoyed an experience typical of the Dolomites – more like Germany than Italy, there is a communal area, like an indoor pool anywhere, with some hot pools on the side. I swam laps, I read my kindle a bit, and I think I may have had an ice cream or something at the snack stand, wrapped in a cozy bathrobe. But then I headed to where I really wanted to be, the naked area.

Each town in the region seems to have its own spa, and each has its own unique layout and feel. This nude area was small, but nice. There were a couple of indoor saunas and wet baths (Turkish saunas) and the outdoor saunas were lined up in a row, with beautiful views over the valley. You’d have to dash quickly, but not too quickly because no matter how hard they try, the spillover from the hot tub will cause ice. There was also a cold plunge pool, very welcome after 10-15 minutes in the Finnish sauna.

Inside, you can drink complimentary water or tea made from local herbs, wrap yourself in a bathrobe and swing in a cozy nook, curl up on a couch with German or Italian language magazines, or nap in one of the quiet rooms, where there seems to be no concept of time. After a couple of rounds, I managed to melt away the remaining tension. NOW I was on vacation.

I noticed the chalkboard featuring the day’s special Aufguss timing. An Aufuguss a special ritual held in the super-heated Finnish sauna. They keep the door open while you load in, placing your towel on the wood in such a way that you can sit as well as place your feet on it (it’s seen as poor etiquette to let any part of your sweaty body touch the wood). The room crowds, and there are naked strangers way closer than you would normally think ok. But it’s the time honored communal experience, and with nobody creeping, it’s ok. (The workers make sure to keep it professional, and it’s such a part of the culture).

For my first Aufguss, the man came in, decked in his little loin cloth, toting a tray of scented iceballs. I forget the “theme” of this Aufguss, but let’s say some kind of lavender relaxation or something. It’s quite a show as the room heats up. He fans the air with his towel, seemingly immune to the heat (a Finnish Sauna is 158-212 degrees Fahrenheit, and I am pretty sure this one was 110C). He says all directions and greetings in both German and Italian, a great way for me to practice both. “Buon Schvitz” (Good sweat?)

After the initial fanning, he took one of the balls and ceremoniously smashed it onto the hot rocks, aromatherapy steam rising up, the room instantly growing hotter. A flash to the senses, then he came around to fan everybody. Each batch of people (5-10) got about 3-4 waves of his towel or giant paper fan as he came by for each pass. All the while, sweat rushed down my body and I fought the urge to run out. I can tolerate this. I can stay. It will be worth it for the exhilarating rush out in the fresh mountain air after.

Finally, the last ball, the last sexy whipping of the heat into my face. I copied the others and raised my arms to enhance the sensation. And then “Grazie, si prega di doccia” Thank you, please shower. And some other warnings to cool off and then rest.

The sauna experience cannot be rushed. The body needs time to recover after the temperature changes, and it’s so easy and absolutely delightful to fall asleep after. I did three rounds of Aufguss on this day, the final one, a special Capodanno one (Happy New Year). The guy saw me sipping my tea, and invited me in to make sure I didn’t miss it. I wasn’t sure I could tolerate another, but it was the most special, followed by a prosecco toast and panettone. This was the most delightful way to end 2015. I enjoyed dinner right by the spa. Then I strolled through town, enjoying the lights, and decided I didn’t need to stay down until midnight.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

file_000-1 I instagrammed this photo while waiting for my pizza.

Post spa glow. The last Aufguss was a special Capodanno one, including a break for an aromatic sugar scrub and followed by panettone and a prosecco toast! (An Aufguss is a steam event in the Finnish sauna where they pour aromatic water on the rocks in a special ritual followed by dancing with the towel to blast us with heat. The guy turned up music and was an awesome performer.). 2015 was good to me because I was good to myself! On to sweet 2016. But first a Quattro Formaggi pizza!

After my pizza and stroll, I walked up to the mountain, zoned out on the bed, and walked down to the markets just in time to grab a prosecco, listen to the DJ, and countdown to 2016!

To be continued with my first day in 2016 and the finale of the adventure.

Bressanone Christmas Markets: The Charming South Tyrol

Posted on December 24, 2014 by liguriansun

The streets of Bressanone / Brixen

Last December, I wanted to go back for more German Christmas markets, yet after so many weekends of whirlwind travel, my budget told me to look in places accessible by train. After long rides to Munich for Oktoberfest the past two years, I saw that the Italian Dolomites were an extremely attractive travel destination. The train always glided by as the grand, jagged mountains silenced the passengers with awe. A quick google search brought me to the website for the Christmas Markets of the South Tyrol:

After, I hopped onto booking.com, noting that most hotels were sold out, too expensive, or too far away, requiring a car. Yet, there was an extremely affordable option in Bressanone / Brixen. Towns in this autonomous region go by Italian and German names since those are the two official languages of this area that is more Tyrollean than Italian. After googling the town, I learned that the hotel in Bressanone was walking distance to the train station, the markets, and the spa. Booked!

The South Tyrol

The Alto Adige region of Italy, the South Tyrol.

It was more than a 7 hour train ride from Genoa, so once again, I dashed out of my 8th grade class exactly at the end of the day at 3:30, onto my scooter, downtown and onto the 4:10 train for Milan where I’d catch my connection to Bressanone. Yet, my train was late. And it got even more delayed en route. Even though I had a 35 minute transfer cushion, my train rolled into the station at the exact time my connecting train for Verona was departing. I leapt off the train, sprinting with with my backpack, and got to the train for Verona Porta Nuova just in time. I leapt on as the doors closed and the train glided away. Safe! Sweet Relief. Yet, this train was different. It didn’t look like the other trains I took to Verona. I didn’t remember there being a business section. Just as I noticed that, I heard the announcement, “Treno per Torino Porta Nuova.” OH NO! I didn’t catch my connection — I got on the wrong train. There was no time to check the track so I headed in the general direction of trains I’d taken to Verona and Venice before. I tried in vain to open the doors, pressing the button frantically as a businessman said, “Non e possibile. It’s not possible. It’s too late.”

I didn’t have a ticket or a reservation or a seat, and now I was heading in the opposite direction. I talked to the conductor for help, and they had me stand outside their little room– a weary, seatless vagabond–while they called for assistance. They said my ticket would not be transferrable to Verona because I got on the wrong train. Luckily, though, they did not charge me for the ticket to Torino. They said they would tell their colleagues on the train from Torino back to Milan but they could not guarantee that I wouldn’t have to pay for a ticket just go get back to Milan. I started arguing with them, losing my cool in complete frustration with Italy’s complete disregard for punctuality, saying “I didn’t know an Internet ticket wouldn’t be valid later. That’s not fair. I have nowhere to sleep tonight!” They responded, “This is Italy. The customer is not protected. You have no rights.” Raised on American service, I still could not adapt to this concept as I apologized, thanked them for all they did do for me, and silently fumed in an empty seat as my train pulled into Torino.

Rolling into MIlan again, having gone nowhere in the past 2 hours, I took a chance by going to the ticket desk as if I haven’t just gone to Torino. The ticket agent was understanding, and gave me a a new ticket to Bressanone, yet I was informed there were no more trains tonight, so I’d have to spend the night in Verona. I called Booking.com to notify the hotel I wouldn’t be there tonight, booked a hotel in Verona by the train station and shortly I was there in a tiny yet cozy single room where finally I could sleep.

The next morning I indulged in a great breakfast spread, hopped onto a train, and eventually to Bressanone, which, to my surprise, was not snow-covered as I had hoped. Ironically, my snowy Christmas market experience was not in the alps but actually the normally soggy and milder Rhineland. Bressanone was still absolutely beautiful in its eager, chilled wait for snow. I love places with the “mountain air vibe.” It was simultaneously exhilarating and relaxing, filled with action and adventure, families, couples, singles . . . everyone just here to enjoy, a combination of chillaxing and adventure.

At the hotel, I was pleasantly surprised by how charming it was for the price. I was also delighted that the hotel chose not to charge me for last night since they were notified. Yes! I gazed at the mountain views, dropped my bags, then began wandering around the markets. It was definitely like stepping into a fairytale in this crossroads of cultures, where you could order a crepe with Nutella, a brioche, a bratwurst, or a German pancake all at the same stand. I ordered a funnel cake with lingonberries, eyed the shops for tomorrow, took some photos, then hit the spa.

quaint streets

The best kind of advent calendar

Like German spas, there was a no-clothing allowed area. I was used to that in Germany, but in Italy, bathing suits are usually compulsory in all areas–even the sauna–so I was really hesitant as I slipped out of my bikini. A few shy steps, and then I noticed confidently nude folks all around me, sipping wine, snacking on aperitivo, and heading into the saunas. Before long, I was alone in an outdoor hot tub, naked under the stars in absolute bliss. The travel stress melted away and only this moment existed.

Afterwards, I went for a nice swim– the only one in the saline lap pool with grand windows– and then back to the hotel for a long, dreamy sleep. The next morning, I over-indulged at the breakfast spread, wandered through the markets some more, then visited the presepi museum. Presepi are Italy’s nativity scenes, and in the tradition of St. Francis, they are often set in familiar Italian settings to help make the story more relatable. Like little dollhouses. The museum had very ornate sets going back to the 1700s. After a casual stroll, I checked out of the hotel. Still no snow but much peace. I walked out of town, along the babbling brook, gazing at hilly vineyards and farmhouses, happy hikers, and the promise of good tidings.

Enchanting

I snagged an afternoon train back to Milan where I was so lucky to have a seat as it was as crowded as a NYC subway at rush hour, elbows and purses assaulting my head in the car so hot it felt like I was back in the sauna, but clothed. I was so glad I booked a hotel in MIlan for the night to break up the journey, although it also meant that I had to jump on the 6:10am train back to Genoa where I’d hop on my scooter and dash into the school just in time for work. Another fantastic weekend, but a lot more zen than whirlwind this time.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

For more Christmas Markets, my post about the Dusseldorf Markets, 2012.

Sweet Home New York City

Posted on December 26, 2012 by liguriansun

I love my life in Italy; it’s a magical adventure filled with wonder, many discoveries, and lots of beauty. School is a full and fantastic busy, and I have fabulous colleagues. Yet . . . my home will always be NYC.

Getting here was quite an adventure. I departed on the morning of December 20th, eager for an evening arrival home. Mamma’s cooking, cuddling with my cats, and seeing friends — a cozy, chill welcome. Instead, my flight from Genoa was cancelled. I was at the airport with several colleagues who were taking the same connecting flight to Munich before departing for our various destinations across the US. As we waited, we saw one of my students, his sister and father. They were on their way to LA.

DELAYED. We stared at the board and I grew more and more nervous as my connection in Munich was just over an hour. First a half hour delay, then an hour delay. Then it disappeared off the monitor. This was how they informed us that our flight was cancelled. We followed my students’ father outside security as he explained that this happened last week with the same flight. Mechanical difficulties. My student said, ‘They were spinning the propellar for an hour, then gave up.”

After an hour online to rebook our tickets, wondering if they could find us seats during the Christmas rush, we finally had our new connections. I was going to Munich at 5, then to Frankfurt where I’d sleep in a hotel and fly out the next morning. 17 hour delay. During this process, several other coworkers popped into the airport for Ryan Air flights to England. When Ryan Air is the reliable flight, you know you’re in trouble.

I was sad because I was supposed to land in NYC at 6pm that night, and possibly go out to meet some friends. But instead, I passed out exhausted in a really nice hotel room with light snow outside in Munich. It looked like the bed was comfortable until I went onto it and almost bounced off a la Clark Griswold in European Vacation.

To the airport early in the AM. Lufthansa was full so they rebooked me on United and the woman was kind and upgraded me to premium economy extra legroom seat. I didn’t realize until I boarded the plane and learned that these seats usually cost an extra $179 each way. Finally a break. I slept most of the flight, read a bit, and then flew over Brookside Swim Club, my old summer hangout where I worked, taught swim lessons, and was head lifeguard for many years. Now I go as a patron. My parents live very close, so I tried to spot the house, but couldn’t find it. I did see my high school, then the NYC skyline. Oh, how could I ever leave this great city? Only for a place as magnificent as Italy. I swear, New Yorkers have to be darned choosy when we take a post overseas. And there’s no where else I’d rather live in the states.

Groggy and sleepy, I showered for a tea party with family friends, then showered again to go to a dinner party. Halfway through the appetizers, it was 3:45am on my clock. I didn’t make it to dinner and was in bed soon after. On my way out of the city, I met up with a friend for quick drink and a fun reunion. I mentioned something about going home on January 5th, and he said, “This is home. You are going to Italy on January 5th.” Ahh, yes.

The following day, I chilled, went for a haircut and enjoyed my cats. On the 23rd, my parents and I took a train into Manhattan to see the decorations, the windows, and go to the Bryan Park Christmas Markets, a tradition my mom and I have done since 2007. This year, Dad joined. It was a beautiful sunny day, and it hurt my heart to see places that were so everday to me, so splendid . . .and knowing that soon I have to leave again until the summer.

Christmas Eve, I met up with two great friends for lunch in Ho-Ho-Kus. Turkey and Brie. mmm. Turkey! My brother joined the fam for dinner that night, and then it began snowing! Soon after, I drove to Fordham to sing with choir alumni in the beautiful Midnight Mass, a tradition that I have been doing since 2002 after I graduated.

Christmas Day, I woke up to a sunny, cozy morning, nursed a big coffee (can’t do that in Italy, although the flavor is much better) and opened a handful of gifts. It was a modest Christmas, but that is good because how much can I carry back anyway? And I got some nice things, including a Chi flat iron to play with. Also, I have a nice check which I decided to use for Spring Break. I’m taking suggestions. Where shall I go? So exciting.

It was so wonderful to be with the family, with everyone I love. It is very strange to live abroad, with people who are fast acquaintances and buddies, but you are away from your true friends and family. Your coworkers become your surrogate family — but it’s just not the same. Permanent expat life is so tempting, but this is the hard side. Being away. I don’t think I can stay forever. But the reunion was so nice and filled me with a warm glow. Content. I am blessed.

Merry Christmas. Buon Natale a tutti!

Here is a slideshow of my pictures in America so far.