The hills are alive with the sound of ……me. Me getting knocked out while skiing in the wonderful mountains of Northern Italy.
Verona is the closest major city to the ski resort I stayed at. Verona is located in Northern Italy about 100 miles from the Swiss border. We flew into Milan on a Friday night and were witness to the some of the worst driving / parking I have ever seen (other than Connecticut). Partygoers in Milan park wherever there is a space. On the curb, on the roundabouts, in the street. They don’t even park in the same direction. We had to swerve to avoid the rear ends of cars just sticking out into the road on various occasions.
We arrived at the resort and found it was a beautiful old style hotel with various old style charms such as crafted wood paneling, a chalet type lobby and lounge and a strip poker arcade game….all right!. The hotel had another rustic feature; everyone’s room key opened every other door. Who wanted privacy and anyway I didn’t like my room mate, he didn’t like me and he hated noise so the more people that stopped by the better. The time at the hotel was spent eating and generally having a good time. The food wasn’t great and there was an incident involving an icicle and a cat oh and a huge punch up one afternoon. Let’s move on to the nice stuff in the hotel, we had a good time at a disco one night and I did finish runner-up in the domino competition although I forget what if anything I won for second place. I would like to say she was lucky but I was soundly beaten.
I spent each day on the slopes flying down the mountain with grace and style and oh wait that was someone else. After taking two full days to learn the snowplow I finally headed for the trails. I am fine on ski lifts however the donuts you have to sit on to be pulled up to the top I just couldn’t get. On one occasion I came close to reaching the top before toppling over and falling back down the slope sending the people behind me flying in all directions. I am sure it would have been funny to watch. I wasn’t laughing, neither were the people I hit. Further disasters on the slopes included a concussion, a high speed crash into those orange barriers and a very unfortunate incident in which my ski came off and raced down the mountain only stopping when it crashed into a poor guy’s tent. He didn’t speak English, I don’t speak Italian and that’s where it ended. If this had been later in my life I would have been on a camcorder montage shown on America’s Funniest or Jeremy Beadles show.
Our fool hardy idea one night was to take to the floodlit mountain black trash bag in hand to use as a sled. You can get some serious speed on a bin bag and a steep slope. I of course as you have no doubt guessed ended up getting knocked out and another concussion. After one week of skiing we returned to England. It’s a good job one more week would most likely have killed me.