Pink Mountains Majesty

After two trains, a bus, and a very lengthy uphill walk (seriously, we deserve some sort of public transit medal), we ended up in this stunning locale:

It turns out that the Dolomite resort had a bit of an unexpected architectural pedigree, and Martello was in heaven. Hidden in the woods was perhaps (with the exception of the one in Modena) the most beautiful church we had ever seen, made of natural materials and totally integrated into the forest.

Just a few of Martello's many artful shots of Chiesa di Nostra Signora del Cadore (architects 

Carlo Scarpa and Edoardo Gellner)

Cool floor (plus Martello's foot). It's sliced logs embedded in concrete. 

To Trofie Wife, it was vaguely reminiscent of (though far grander than) a certain Jewish camp in Pennsylvania’s Chapel in the Woods (perhaps the only good thing to that place’s merit, with apologies to any alums of that institution who might be reading this). 

The resort itself was a bit of a mix of Club Med and the Catskills of Dirty Dancing, leaning more in the direction of the latter than the former. We avoided the evening activities (though there was one regrettable aperitivi at the piano bar, which involved watching an awkward pre-teen dance solo to a requested number…) and the food was pretty lackluster (the second night, our dinner was a block of barbequed cheese alongside French fries). They did, however, rent out bikes (yet again, no helmets; clearly they don’t value brains much in this part of the world). There’s a massive trail going through the mountains, and serious bikers do the whole thing.

The view that experienced bikers like Martello can enjoy.

Trofie Wife did okay on the flat and downhill parts (and enjoyed waving to the cows partaking in a meal alongside us) but struggled uphill and just wasn’t down with the whole no-helmet-on-mountain-bike situation. So I sent Martello on a solo trip while I rested and read at a rest stop. Following our gelato lunch it began to rain, which was not helpful as we walked (Trofie Wife) and rode (Martello) our bikes back up the massive hill.

In general, Trofie Wife and bikes seem to get along best when both are walking. 

All in all, the resort was just incredibly beautiful and relaxing, and we likely would have benefited from a couple more mornings spent gazing into the mountains.

The view from our hotel balcony

Yet it was time to continue the trek east and south…

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie

Intermezzo in Udine and Treviso

Udine

As the week continued, we headed west en route to the mountains. We took a quick dip into Udine, enjoying a last-minute lunch at an enoteca with an excellent wine selection (albeit an overbearing cat, who we thought was going to snatch food off our plates). We wandered through the cobblestone streets and along the canal and visited several churches before grabbing a pre-treno espresso.

Our lodging for that evening was at an inn in Treviso that looked as though it might be a drop-off point for Laura Ashley remainders—this is what you get for last-minute booking. Trofie Wife didn’t find Treviso particularly inviting, but Martello enjoyed it (he was particularly interested in the historic significance of the below fountain).

Fontana delle Tette (yup, that means what you think it does). She would bring forth wine for three days after a new governor was sworn in. Trofie Wife does not believe that Former Gov. Cuomo looked into resurrecting this practice in New York, but perhaps his son will some day. 

Treviso is known to be a wealthy town, and the streets are certainly studded with many flashy stores. It’s Benetton’s hub, so Trofie Wife was somewhat excited to visit the flagship, yet disappointed that the summer collection was no longer in sight/on ridiculous sale (and it was way too hot to try on fall sweaters; better to stick to the local shop on Via XX Settembre in Genova). We toured the large Baroque duomo and the older San Francesco church, which had a ceiling resembling a ship’s hull (pretty cool). We also got a quick glimpse at the market. Treviso is home to trevisana, which American readers probably know as radicchio. It was particularly purple here.

With afternoon upon us, we began our much-anticipated trek into the Dolomite Mountains. Now you know that much of this trip was planned on the fly, but the story of how we found the resort we were headed to should be one of marketing legend. We were in the pencil-shaped T Hotel in Cagliari—you know in Sardinia, on an island in the sea many, many kilometers from the mountains. And after dinner we decided to look through the brochures—almost all of them to local sites. But what did we find hidden in there but a brochure for the Hotel Boite in Calalzo! Turns out that the developers’ next project was in the Dolomite Mountains of all places! We booked our stay while in Trieste and hoped for the best…

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie