I Won!

For months we've been planning to ski. Many of the Eastern European countries we've been to have had slopes that would have been more than adequate for us, but for one reason or another, we just kept putting it off. Well, Italy is it. That's right, this is the last country we plan to visit before heading back to The States. It was time to find a place to ski. After months of trash talk about who is the better skier--faster, more experienced, most daring--it was time prove myself. We made our booking in Aosta, a town in a valley of the Italian Alps not far from Torino where the 2006 Olympics were held. We picked up some snow pants, a three day lift ticket, rented skis, and we were off.

The first stage up the mountain is in a cablecar. From Aosta it takes you up 1200 meters, quickly. That is the vertical distance. My pulse was definitely quickening. I was trying to stay focused on the shocking beauty of the mountains. How I've never felt quite so tiny and swallowed up by the landscape like this before. But my heartbeat was so loud! After the cablecar, it was time to put on my skis and climb further up the mountain on the chair lift. Holy shit! What was I thinking! I haven't been skiing since gym class during the Fire Break--that was ninth grade! And I'm not in good shape anymore! The only exercise I've had in nine months is walking around, leisurely walking!

Michael seemed calm and collected on the outside, but I sensed he had exaggerated his skills, maybe almost as much as I had. We made it to the top of one of the two "easy" hills, and off we went. I felt a little off at first, but then I heard that "swish swish" we'd been talking about for months. The skis didn't feel quite as foreign as I had feared. The crisp cold didn't seem so chilling as we weaved down the mountain (past multitudes of under ten-year-olds). When we finally arrived at the bottom Michael told me he was struggling with his left turns. Victory! I had won! I was the better skier!Okay, okay, over our three days on the mountain, I must admit, Michael proved himself a bit more gutsy. He took on the steeper parts of the hills, and he made his descents faster, and with less fear than I sometimes felt. I fell once, and he never did. He claims he was ready to take on a Black hill if we'd one more day. But I think if we'd had a few more days I would have come out ahead. One thing is certain; we had a fantastic time. We were sad to have to leave the slopes.From Aosta we went to Riomaggiore in the Liguria region. It is one of the five small villages that makes up Cinque Terre, and was the perfect place to rest our tired muscles. We took the winding stroll between our village and the next one over. The weather was beautiful. Liguria is the source of pesto. Needless to say, we enjoyed the stunning views and ate well. After two nights there we moved on to Bologna, with a day trip yesterday to Parma. This region is considered the gastronomic heart of Italy (the world?). The standard antipasti, seen below, includes Parma ham (Proscuitto), Parmesan cheese, green olives, salami, and bologna (Mortadella). Mmmmm. In the morning we're off to Florence. If you've been to Italy, and you want to suggest your favorite places, please do!