Our first stop in the Dolomites was Madonna di Campiglio, a short drive from Riva del Garda. Known as a sophisticated resort town for well-heeled Europeans, Madonna is located on the densely forested western side of the Brenta group, to the west of the main Dolomite range. Although we were visiting outside of peak season, I didn't find the town to be terribly glitzy or glamourous, but I was thrilled to be staying at a charming, family-owned alpine hotel a little outside of Madonna's mall-like resort complexes, with spectacular views, to boot.
The Brentas are a year-round holiday destination, with formidable downhill runs in winter and vie ferrate routes in summer. While we were eager to explore the Parco Naturale Adamello-Brenta on foot, Mara and I weren't prepared to don harnesses and ropes on a three-day trek through the mountains. The alternative? Nordic walking. Initially, this seemed like a bit of a cop-out, but a good way to get out into the Brentas without a head for heights. It ended up being a lot of fun, and a decent workout. I'm definitely going to invest in a pair of these bad boys for Bloor Street.
Our room, Madonna di Campiglio
View from our room, Madonna di Campiglio
Nordic walking, Parco Naturale Adamello-Brenta
Mara and our guide, Maurizio, Parco Naturale Adamello-Brenta
Parco Naturale Adamello-Brenta
After our hike, Mara and I refuelled with some fresh Sambuco (the elderflower juice, not the liqueur), and spent the rest of the afternoon en route to San Cassiano, in the Alta Badia. The drive, though long, was staggeringly beautiful. High mountain passes led us from one charming Tyrolean village to the next, with each hairpin bend affording us an even greater view of the Dolomites' rugged crags and meadows strewn with mountain huts, or rifugios. Forget Highway 1. This place inspired Tolkien!
On the road
The next day, Mara and I backtracked to the Alpe di Siusi, Europe's largest alpine pasture, where we spent the day hiking and indulging in delectable Austro-Italian cuisine. A natural preserve, the meadow is speckled with wildflowers and grazing cattle and pretty, colourful ribbon disguising powerful electrical currents. After a quick and relatively painless electrocution (that did send me flying), we found ourselves a rifugio for me to recover at, and feasted on canederli, or knodel—a South Tyrolean specialty akin to a giant matzah ball—served by a family dressed in dirndl and lederhosen. Cue massive cultural disorientation.
Alpe di Siusi
Alpe di Siusi, pre-electrocution
Alpe di Siusi
Alpe di Siusi
Alpe di Siusi
Alpe di Siusi
The only warning sign in all of the Alpe di Siusi, post-electrocution
Mara and I spent the rest of the afternoon in the Alpe di Siusi, and then drove back to San Cassiano via the breathtaking Grande Strada delle Dolomiti, or Great Dolomite Road. More high mountain passes, more hairpin bends. We had a casual supper at the hotel's low-key Wine Bar, whose standout dish included a lavender creme brulee. We went to bed a little less stuffed than the night before, thanks to a Michelin-starred meal that involved amuse-bouches, homemade breads, three apps (two of which were unordered), a pasta, a main, an (unordered) pre-dessert, a dessert and an (unordered) post-dessert, all with wines to match. I'm definitely not complaining, but I did feel as though if I didn't eat again for a few days—or weeks—that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
On the Great Dolomite Road
On the Great Dolomite Road
On the Great Dolomite Road
Our digs, San Cassiano
The following morning, Mara and I drove from San Cassiano through fancy schmancy Cortina d'Ampezzo (location of the 1956 Winter Olympics and the James Bond flick For Your Eyes Only), and then on to the Sesto Dolomites. We hiked around the Tre Cime di Lavaredo—the region's most distinctive peaks and one of the best-known mountain groups in the Alps—and were rewarded with gorgeous panoramas and views of the area's man-made caves (the Dolomites were the front line between Austria and Italy during World War I, and fortifications are still scattered throughout). Afterwards, we headed back to Cortina for casunziei, a local specialty of beet-filled ravioli doused in butter, parmesan and poppy seeds, that Mara and I had been coveting since our trip together began.
Tre Cime di Lavaredo hike
Tre Cime di Lavaredo
Tre Cime di Lavaredo hike
Tre Cime di Lavaredo
Tre Cime di Lavaredo hike
Tre Cime di Lavaredo hike
Tre Cime di Lavaredo hike
A five hours' drive later, Mara and I found ourselves in Verona, alongside Rosanna and her friend, Adele. There, in one of the world's best preserved Roman amphitheatres and most famed opera houses, I watched, enthralled, as Verdi's Aida played out. I kind of felt like Julia Roberts in that scene from Pretty Woman; while there were no jewels, gowns or private jets, this was quite possibly the best introduction to the art form anyone could ever hope to have, and a grand finale to our trip through northern Italy.
Arena di Verona
