Memories and Musings: my Recent Trip to Europe III - The Dolomites...and my Dolomite

After a few days on Lago Maggiore (aaaahhh) and an all-too-brief stop in Milan, I trained up into a mountain range in northeastern Italy called the Dolomites, to the city of Bolzano specifically. I spent four days in an area that everyone tells me sees 300 days of sunshine each year. I apparently chose four of the other 65. 

One of my only glimpses of the Dolomites, from near the rail station - a moment later the clouds - moments later the clouds swallowed them up

Those of you who read my first "Memories and Musings" about Lago Maggiore will remember that I focused on borders and frontiers, and found them in the area around Lago Maggiore, a bit confused culturally, as part of the lake is in Switzerland, part in Italy. This confusion is compounded in the Dolomites.

These mountains are in another "frontier" zone, between Austria and Italy (and to a point, Slovenia as well). The mountains have been part of Italy since the end of World War I. The area saw some of the bloodiest fighting in that war, when Italians attempted to take back country they thought of as theirs from the Austro-Hungarian Empire. If you know your history you'll be aware that the First World War - let's call it the Great War, as it's shorter, and that's how it was known until the even "greater" World War II - marked the end of that long-lived Empire. 

But, during the war, not to be too silly star wars about it, the Empire fought back. Often outnumbered by the Italians, Austrian generals were smarter, and in 1917 well-trained German troops came to the aid of the Austrians. It was the time of that surge in German reinforcements that Hemingway focused on in his great anti-war novel, A Farewell to Arms. The hero/ambulance driver, wounded earlier in the conflict and sent to Milan (and Lago Maggiore) to recover, then returns to the front, finds himself in a mass evacuation of Italians, soldiers and civilians too, after a humiliating defeat. He encounters military (in)-justice on the march when he and others are rounded up by a group of their own soldier-vigilantes determined to send any deserters to a firing squad. His turn coming up, and seeing that no stories by those captured can save them from instant death, our hero eludes his captors by leaping into a fast-moving river. 

The actual battles, retreats, vigilante killings and so on all took place in an area just to the south and east of Bolzano. The Italians re-grouped and turned the tables on the Austrians, but at a bloody cost. During the war almost 700,000 Italians alone were killed. Not to take away from the trench warfare that was going on to the west, but the action in the Dolomites was literally more active - tunnels carved into mountains for armies to sneak up on enemies, snipers lowered from ropes to pick off enemy troops, explosives used which destroyed not only soldiers but parts of the beautiful Dolomites as well. 

Aside: If you've been reading my posts on this trip in order, you'll know that the field of action I just described is located where much of Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms takes place.

Horrible as the story is, when I travel, by connecting historical fact with fiction (in this case), I gain a deep understanding of the past, that possibly informs the present, and puts any trip I take into context for me, ergo more meaning.

My hotel: Stadt Hotel Citta

The countryside along the Dolomites was a confusing mix of Germanic and Italian during the Great War and for centuries before it, and remains so today. Not nearly as violent now as during the war, of course, though from what I understand  some bitterness remains on the part of Austrians living in an area no longer belonging to them. Today German and Italian are spoken in the region, and names of every street, hotel, restaurant in Bolzano - er, make that Bozen auf Deutsch - are listed one above or below the other. The hotel I stayed in, and that I recommend, is named the Stadt Hotel Città. The first word means city in German, the last word means city in Italian. It's the City Hotel any way in whatever language one uses, but the juxtaposition of German and Italian cleverly points up the linguistic balance that must be maintained in the region. When I spoke to a few of the staff at the desk I mentioned how witty and clever the balanced name of the hotel seemed to me. None of them found it remotely amusing, but they treated me kindly all the same.

Indeed, on a day trip out of Bolzano/Bozen, I trained to Bressanone or Brixen, in Medieval times governed by a powerful Italian bishop, now a city where most of the population is mostly Austrian and speaks German almost exclusively. While you can certainly find Italian food in the city, most restaurants focus on Austro-Germanic cuisine. 

Italian Independence day at Bressanone - a feather in their caps!

Having noted this proclivity towards all things German, I just happened to be there on the anniversary of Italian independence, and a rather detailed ceremony was held in the central piazza/platz, in front of the Duomo/Dom - the cathedral. Soldiers of different kinds, some dressed in 19th century garb, others with feathers in their caps (literally) almost surrounded the area in which a small band played, and in which an old, old Italian went on forever IN Italian, on the meaning of the day. After the ceremony I had a coffee at a large outdoor cafe and, Italy honored, duty done, the conversations I heard were all in German.

The cathedral in Bressanone/Brixen

A truce, and here's hoping a lasting one, between two nationalities, divided once by a line on a map, now joined by a more recent line on a map, in an area that I characterize as a frontier because of the issues that "border" creates.

Leaving the border/frontier complications behind, I traveled to Bolzano to have a look at the Dolomites, a group of mountains not as high as the Alps but with dramatic, often very pointed peaks. Their coloring is tinged with pink, and at different times of the day the color turns slightly, making them all the more interesting to look at. But, as I noted above, I apparently chose four of the relatively few days during the year when I saw sadly little of those famous peaks. 

Piazza Walther/Waltherplatz, with the cathedral

On my first day I spent time finding my way through the old city. My hotel was located on Waltherplatz, or Piazza Walther, the central square, which also houses the tourist bureau and is home to the cathedral/Duomo/Dom. The cathedral resembles, on the outside at least, the great St Stephen's Cathedral, or Stefansdom, in Vienna. Just off the main square I found charming side streets, one of which acts as the main outdoor market in the city, the long, lean Piazza delle Erbe,

Piazza delle Erbe

 filled with fresh veggies, meats, cheeses, nuts & seeds, and a bright and colorful array of flowers. Picture this on a sunny day, when the surrounding mountains are visible as backdrop - a beautiful place. I found it so even with the low clouds that during my stay almost always kept me from seeing the mountains.

Bolzano is also known for its archeological museum, interesting in general but VERY special for the remains of Otzi the iceman, one of our earliest ancestors found tremendously well preserved in the 1990s, by some hikers who spotted him in a snowbank. Trapped in the ice for eons, Otzi is now free, and the museum features his tiny, leathery and wizened body that one sees waiting in a line (very short on the day I was there), then peering through thick glass into an area which maintains the preservation as well as current science allows. The curators have built up around that one central spot a series of exhibits on the time in which Otzi existed, on how he lived and more dramatically on the mysterious manner in which he died, or rather, nearly certainly, was murdered.

Otis preserved - not my shot, but there he is

a model of Otzi, as he might have looked

The museum is not to be missed, and is located only a very short stroll from one of the two rivers that run through Bolzano. The river is bordered by a large, wonderful park that makes the place even lovelier. 

The lovely park next to the river, just off camera on the left

A half hour walk along this park also takes intrepid travelers (myself included) to the well-preserved Medieval Castello Roncalo, or Schloss Runkelstein, depending on your language preference. 

Schloss Runkelstein, from a distance

Religious frescoes abound in Medieval ruins, but this particular castle has one of the finest and best preserved collection of secular frescoes - the interior and even parts of the ramparts are covered with them. They deal with two topics primarily, love and war - like it or not we can't get away from either of them! A warning - as the longish but relatively flat walk towards the castle ends there are what seem to be endless stone steps up to the castle proper. I'll confess I stopped three time to catch my breath, and was gasping and sweating profusely when I finally made it to the entrance. But it was worth all the trouble!

One of the castle's secular frescoes, in the Room of Lovers

A view from the castle

If you try the walk and the climb, when you get back into the town, cross the bridge over the river and pretty park for a stark surprise. This area, like much of the north of Italy, was Fascist country, and the "new" city on the far side takes you back into Mussolini's reign of power/terror. 

The stark Fascist arch

The dominant feature is a heroic arch, that is somewhat protected these days, as it was apparently being constantly defaced and sprayed with graffiti. On either side of it are rows of featureless, soulless buildings, also built in the Fascist area. I'll confess I did not venture past the ugly shock provided by the arch and the rest of the architecture - even though one of the best gelaterias in town is said to be only a few blocks past it. Instead I walked back across the bridge, noticed on a sign that a jazz festival was being held only days after I would have left Bolzano, 

in happy contrast to the grim memorial, a notice in the park at the river
for a jazz festival - sorry I missed it!

looked down the river and the beautiful park, then strolled back into the beautiful old city. What a difference! A tale of TWO cities, in a way.

So! If you go, and you should, the primary reason to visit Bolzano is to get out beyond and above it, literally, into the Dolomites. I spent some of my second day and nearly all of my third day making it my business to do just that. 

The interesting looking station for the cable car up to Oberbozen

Just a short walk from the central square is the rail station, less than a ten minute walk. From the rail station, if you turn left looking at its front facade, another ten minutes tops will bring you to the closest of lifts into the mountains above Bolzano, called, as luck would have it Oberbozen/ Soprabolzano - which translates in either language to...above Bolzano. The lift is inexpensive, runs quite frequently and is a short ride, possibly ten minutes.

View from the cable car going up

Another "view" - the weather was changeable, to say the least

approaching our destination: Oberbozen

So from the central square, in 30 minutes you can look down on the city. Should you decide to do that and no more, you can simply ride down again, 

A view from the top - meadow, hills and in the distance mountains hidden by clouds

but less than 50 yards if that from the lift station you will find a small, old-fashioned train that runs across scenic countryside to Klobenstein/Collalbo. 

The old-fashioned train

From Klobenstein I understand a number of nice hikes can be begun. I took the train but am more a gawker than a walker, and just getting up into the mountains and taking in the views were enough for me. So after a stroll through tiny Klobenstein I took the train back to Oberbozen and then back down the cable car to Bolzano - a very nice way to spend a couple of hours, even on a cloudy day.

Love this mountain goat statue, holding a railroad pick at the Klobenstein station

on the trip back down to Bolzano

Day two was merely a tease for day three, when I got up into the Dolomites and onto the highest Alpine meadow in Europe, the Alpe di Siusi in Italian, Seiser Alm in German, beautiful in either or any language. A very inexpensive and not terribly long way to get there from Bolzano is to ride a local bus that curves its way through spectacular scenery to to the Seiser Alm Bahn.

One of the many beautiful views on the way from the bus up to the Alpe di Siusi

This is the "train" to the meadow, actually a fifteen minute cable car ride, reached by getting out one stop on the bus line before the town of Alpe di Siusi (the town is NOT to be confused with the meadow itself). The bus driver was very friendly (not always true with Italian bus drivers - or any bus drivers, actually) and understood exactly when I told him I wanted to be dropped at the cable car to the meadow. He called to me when we reached the stop. Once I got off the bus, on a bridge with a lovely mountain stream gushing down the hillside, 

The rushing mountain stream at my bus stop

I was at first confused because I didn't see the station, or anything else besides the stream and beautiful woodlands. But an old woman (probably younger than I, really) got off at the same stop, so I followed her, and just around a bend in the road I saw the station. The cable cars are almost constant, and the ride up the mountain is gorgeous.

Compaccio, and the first sighting of MY dolomite

The "town" at the upper end of the cable car is Compaccio, or Compatsch, really just a small collection of shops, eateries and hotels. but it's a very easy walk through the meadow to two different cable car rides farther up into the Dolomites. One of the two was closed, but the other took me to a location above Compatsch, with a restaurant, pointers to several different hiking trails, and a beautiful view in every direction.

The meadow, and if you look very carefully at the darkness in the upper center,
THAT is a Dolomite - but it never became more visible than that...

On a clear day, that is. A bit later in my trip a guide in Slovenia, also a professional photographer, eased the minds of me and the others on the tour, which was cloudy and rainy throughout. He said, "Don't mind the weather. 

Postcard view of the Dolomites, - in the sunshine, courtesy Wikipedia

Take photos liberally. You will have more atmospheric views, whereas if you were here on a sunny day you'd only get photos that look like the postcards - and those you can buy. No one sells postcards of scenic spots on days like this!"

Another Dolomite tease - that vague dark rising at the center of the phot is
another Dolomite. And that's as much as I saw of it.

Good advice, or at least a demonstration of the power of positive thinking.

Another shot of MY Dolomite - fded, almost ghostly

Clouds, I have learned from experience, cling to mountain tops, so I have a collection of dramatic clouds and lower parts of mountains from my day in the Dolomites, with one exception. And a wonderful exception it is. I referred to it as simply "my Dolomite" as it was the only one that showed me its face, so to speak. But my research later on the same day revealed that it is one of the more famous mountains in the chain, called the Schlern in German, the Sciliar in Italian. For the most part it is a long mass of gray, which breaks off into two knifelike peaks at one edge of it.

A clearer look at the upper portion of the Schlern

I walked put the stairs and out of the Seiser Alm Bahn station and saw cloud be-shrouded mountains in every direction ahead of me - ah well...but I then I noticed that one fellow was snapping photos exactly behind me. I turned, and while there was light mist around it, there was my Dolomite, the Schlern, rising up not unlike Ahab's white whale. It disappeared soon enough, but the entire time I spent on the huge Alpine meadow, at that station and then above, when I took the short cable ride to the highest point I'd reach that day I felt it was giving me my own private show, as it became completely clear for a moment, then lost in clouds and mist, then appearing again but in another hue. 

From the highest point I got to that morning, about as much of the Schern,
MY Dolomite, I got to see

A look at the Alpe di Siuse, the meadow, and at the rear a cable car station that I used to get farther up into the mountains

Another lovely view was of the meadow itself. Mountain flowers, yellow and blue mostly, were just beginning to grow. This was the very beginning of the season, after all. 

Had I arrived a week earlier the cable car would not have been in service. While it might have been even more beautiful two weeks later, this was more than enough for me. 

Cows - with cowbells! - grazing on the highest Alpine meadow in Europe

Cows with cowbells, only the second time I've ever heard them, the first being on my earlier trip to the Lautenbrunnen Valley in Switzerland, mountain huts, horses, a few sheep. It was the definition of pastoral, of idyllic. I simply loved it.

My favorite shot of the meadow, which as this clearly shows, is hardly flat

Oh! Just to point this out, meadows are not always flat. The Alpe di Siusi is anything but. As noted I'm more a gawker than walker, and I found myself getting winded, and also getting cold. So before long I decided I'd better go back down.

It was then that I noticed something that did not seem to belong up in the mountains. An amphitheatre of sorts, and a strange one at that. 

The amphitheatre

Wooden slats were set in a semicircle looking onto a tiny stage, with one barren tree behind it. Of course it was Beckett's Waiting for Godot! Probably not, actually, more likely a simple venue for concerts, and those later in the summer, at the height of the season.

But if there is anyplace on earth I'd ever wait for Godot, it is here in the Dolomites, even if I saw only one (MY Dolomite, the Schlern), in the beautiful meadow called the Alpe di Suisi, or Seiser Alm.

My mountain gave me one last (or WAS it?) unexpected show. On the way up on the Seiser Alm Bahn it was not visible, completely cloud-shrouded, but as I was heading down - I had the little round cable car all to myself, a completely different view of it revealed itself, practically next to the car!

pardon the cables, but here is a pic of the Schlern on my way down

I spent just a bit of time in the station at the bottom, chatting with a very friendly woman who worked in a shop, gave me a taste of some delicious local apple cider, and also told me the time the next bus would arrive. It was coming imminently, so I said farewell, and headed out of the building and back to the beautiful bus stop next to the wild mountain stream. But I turned once to look back, and there it was, just briefly, still another view of the Schlern, my Dolomite.

My very last sighting of MY Dolomite - it disappeared again almost as soon as it
appeared, but that was enough for me.

I had other adventures on this part of the trip, but nothing I add to what I saw in the Dolomites beats this, so I'll stop here. Next up, Innsbruck and the Austrian Alps.