Corvara in Badia, Italy

So Corvara in Badia. If I haven't mentioned it the previous post detailing our journey here, the trip to Corvara in Badia is for my cousin Colin's wedding. He's marrying Ron the first Saturday in September and he's the only member of the Behmke family that's really able to clean the rest of us up. Black tie, baby.

So, Corvara. Where do I even start...

This is what it looks like when I wake up.

I open the windows in our hotel room and my body instinctively shoves my torso out the window and starts singing "The hills are aliiive with the sound of muuuusiccc!!!" I don't want to take credit for that as those aren't my own lyrics as I'm sure you know. They're lyrics to a song from Moulin Rouge. Not sure if it's applicable here in Italy this close to the Austrian border, cuz I know Moulin Rouge was set in Paris. It just seems right though.

So here's what bicycles look like. They're the inspiration behind those awesome multi-colored pinwheel hats you dress your kids in to make them look ridiculous and get a good laugh.

Here's what it looks like when you take a gondola up Alta Badia. A true chrome-dome.


This is what it looks like down the backside of the mountain. It's probably the inspiration behind The Lion King. If you look closely, you can see Rafiki holding Simba at the top of that mountain.

Pride Rock

This is what it looks like if you dump a non-working bathtub at the top of a mountain (literally dumping garbage), hand-paint a crude sign, and use it as a water trough for animals.

It's vietato, baby.

In hind-sight I actually have no idea what this is for. I really really wanted to get naked and sit in that disgusting bathtub on the mountaintop. When in Rome. I mean, it just seems like a very Italian thing to do, right? Thanks to Google Translate on my phone held up to the sign, I learned that "VIETATO" means "FORBIDDEN" and "FARE IL BAGNO" has something to do with bathing, so I didn't. I figured it's a water trough for horses. My phone's camera couldn't quite figure out what AI CANI or AL CANI meant. Using Google Translate on my computer now, this sign supposedly means it's forbidden to bathe dogs here. Or something like that. Maybe it is for human use after all?

Or maybe it was for these awesome goats just a little further down the path.

Yes, that's a tiny goat marching towards you.

It's coming for you.

And here it's found you.

This is what it looks like if you just sit on a bench. Literally, if you just sit on a bench.

man and woman on bench

This is what dessert looks like on a mountaintop. 

This is what golf looks like.


This is what the best filet in the Dolomites looks like. Yea, I went full-carnivore at this wedding.


This is what cars look like.


This is what it looks like if you lean against a car.

man leaning on car

The hosts are straight out of every storybook in the world.

This is what it looks like when my cousin Colin gets married.

Wedding Crashers

And this is what Amanda and I look like when my cousin Colin gets married.

The End. Drop the mic. See you later.

P.S. We're coming back here in the Winter to ski.

P.P.S. Amanda doesn't know it yet.

P.P.P.S. Amanda hates skiing.

Aerei, Treni, e Automobili

Four years ago and I would have spent the night. This year I'm staying at home. Four years ago I was stuck in the London Stansted airport for 24 hours and missed two flights. This time, we're doing it at bit more...civilized. Last time, disaster. This time a 2:30 wake-up, a 3:20 bus, and a 6:05 flight. No missed flights, no baggage issues, and best of all: no need to wear 18 articles of clothing like a freak.

"Big bags don't fly." - Fergie

Everything went according to plan. Even the airport was nice. Like, really nice. An acute reminder to myself of my last visit: arriving at the airport the night before my flight instead of paying for a hostel, jostling for position with others trying to get a bench without arm rests to sleep on, and the jackhammers. Oh, the jackhammers! Constantly. All. Night. Long. Well, four years later and I guess the airport beautification construction project is complete because the place looks great. We made it through the security line without a problem and were waiting on the plane for a bit longer than usual. All-of-a-sudden, two of the flight attendants were handed a bag, hoisted up from the tarmac below. They then proceeded to hold it up high at the front of the plane for all to see.

"Ladees and genteelman, vee'd like to hav your attenzion please at zee front of zee plane. Whose bag ees zees?"

"Oh shit!", shouts a guy a few rows back.

Anyone who's flown Ryanair would know that bag was definitely not allowed. I mean, these poor girls were really laboring to keep that bag held up. I had to get a picture of this. And it went on for a few minutes too. No one wanted to claim that bag as their own.

"Eef we do noot have szomeone coming to claim zees bag, zee bag veel NOT be flying weef us!"

Oh the shame... The shame! 

After about 2 minutes, a woman pipes up, "Is there a small white bag in the front pocket?"

Don't play games with us. You know that's your bag, lady.

"I think that might be my bag if there's a white bag in the front pocket."

We all know that's your bag.

The flight attendants knew too, because they had that woman out of her chair and up at the front of the plane in no time. If they made her pay for the bag or kicked her off the plane in general, we'll never know. I wasn't paying attention.

Look at those squircles.

A few hours later, we land in the Treviso airport, just outside of Venice. Just as planned, our Fiat Panda chariot awaits. It's a 5-speed manual, does 0-60 mph in a cool 14.2 seconds, has a 1.2 litre engine with a top speed of 102 mph!

Ever heard of a ‘squircle’? It’s a square with rounded edges, and it’s the inspiration for Panda’s design. But those softer contours don’t just look good. They also improve its aerodynamic efficiency and help you make the most of its spacious interior, with fewer obstructions and inaccessible areas. You just can't make this stuff up - that 'squircle' bit is straight from the Fiat Panda website...

Anyways, we've got the car all loaded up and we're on our way! We try our hands at finding a pizza. I mean, first things first, right? I had activated a phone in London a few days ago and topped it up with some money to use it in Italy. We try Yelp!, but that was a dead end. We try Google, with a bit more luck, and are directed off the autostrade (auto-strade, inter-state? meh.) towards a seemingly dead town. It is a mix of industrial Italy and farmland Italy and it does not have pizza. Well, here's what it is: a town with two closed pizzarias that, according to their posted store hours, should have opened 2 hours ago. Back on the autostrade. Amanda takes a nap.

happy girl with pizza

A few hours later, I hit the end of the autostrade and need to pay at the toll booth for my journey. A few minutes later we start to drive by lakes, ravines, and up into the mountainside. I then veer off the road at the first sign of pizza. After a quick look at the menu in the pizza-serving hotel, we decide on the pizza quattro formaggi - that's a four-cheese pizza for those of you keeping score at home.

Anyways, the guy at the register says no, but I can't imagine why. We ordered this pizza quattro formaggi in perfectly awful Italian and seemingly have enough euros to pay for it. After a few more words from the man behind that counter that go right over our heads, he grabs a pad of paper and writes "12". It's 11:45am. We will wait 15 minutes for your kitchen to open, sir. I order a cappuccino, which is not time-dependent, and waited outside with Amanda. Fifteen minutes later I returned to the counter, head held high, and proceeded to order us our pizza. There was further confusion after a few follow up questions from her in Italian. I returned to the table outside where Amanda was waiting. Unsure as to whether we would be served a four-cheese pizza or whether we would be served four cheese pizzas, I returned victorious to Amanda. The pizza was delivered and the goods were consumed. It was unreal how good that pizza was. Back in the car and off to Corvara! Amanda continues her nap. The Panda climbs onwards, up high into the Dolomite Mountains on our way to Corvara in Badia.

Climbing... Climbing...The Panda and I just keep on climbing and this is shaping up to be one of the most enjoyable drives I've ever had. The scenery is amazing, jagged cliffs fading into the distance as others start to emerge from the vast and ravine laced expanse ahead. The company? Well, Amanda's been laying down trying to sleep in the back seat of the Panda which makes for a quiet journey and it's probably for the best. I'm working this Fiat hard. I mean, really hard. Since selling my six-speed back in The States before moving I've been itching to get behind the wheel of a car. And what better than a 5-speed on hairpin mountain roads? Even if it is a Fiat Panda...

Panda or not, this is one fun drive; we're really flying. Corner? Downshift. Straightaway? Accelerate, pass car, upshift. Corner? Downshift. Bicycle? Veer left. Uphill? Downshift, accelerate, upshift. Corner downhill? Downshift, turn, accelerate, upshift. Backseat? Silence. And every one of these turns is sharp. When I say sharp, I mean sharp.

Your typical stretch of alpine road.

When you've got sheets of rock looming overhead and your turning in your seat, craning your neck to stare at them like a tourist, you start to realize it's probably best to pay attention to the road. I mean, there's hardly any cars on the road, really. It's pretty light traffic all the way with a few bicyclists here and there, but when that massive tour bus comes careening towards you head-on out of a turn on a narrow mountain road with a bicyclist on your right, it gets a bit hairy. It's a good thing my passenger is out cold.

The road to Corvara in Badia.

At this point we're nearing Corvara, driving by towns straight from The Sounds of Music. Forno di Zoldo, Dont, Zoldo Alto, Colle Santa Lucia, Arraba. The signage for each town is in two different languages this close to the Austrian border in Ladinia. Amanda wakes up and I tell her we did Dont. She thinks I'm great I'm sure. Closer... Closer... Closer... aaandddd... We're here! My God. This place. Corvara. Is. Amazing.

And the view from our hotel room?

It's just not even fair.

We've Got Baggage

Landed in London. Everyone looks British. Again.

Four years ago, no directions from Heathrow to the hostel. This time? Carrot Cars (actual company name) ready to collect us at the airport. He had a little sign and everything. Aside from the poor bloke looking at the two of us with our carts piled to the brim (probably wondering how this would all fit in his van) everything was great!

We even got to play luggage Tetris in his van and everything worked out wonderfully.
Amanda wanted to relax a bit and requested to sit in the back seat with our belongings, so I sat in the front seat with our helpful driver. On our ride from the airport I noticed that the British still drive on the left.

Leaving Heathrow

A little known fact about Brexit: the EU and its "experts" were requiring the UK to switch from driving on the left side to the right side of the road by 2020. Fearing the significant long-term economic cost to make the switch and change road signage, the UK voted to leave the EU.

The drive took about an hour and a half and we saw quite a bit of action. Lots of driving on the left side of the road, we discovered the fast lane is the far right lane (bizarre!), and we discovered our Carrot Cars driver was losing his patience on the road. We started to near our destination and the driver asked if we knew how to get to the address.

Isn't that what you're here for? 

The driver attempted a few different ways to get to the address, but we subsequently learned that the flat we'd be staying at for the next 30 days was down a pedestrian-only cobblestone path. As the driver and I unloaded the luggage from the van, Amanda went down the alley and around the bend out of sight to find the reception area of our serviced apartment. She was gone for quite a while, and as I waited awkwardly with the now openly upset driver it began to drizzle a bit.

She must be checking in with the people at the reception getting the keys and doesn't realize it's raining now. 

Amanda returns empty-handed. No reception at the flat. Driver leaves. No phone. No WiFi. The skies open and the rain starts pouring. All over the luggage.

What did we get ourselves into.

I perform a quick cost-benefit analysis to determine how to carry our luggage down the alley, around the bend, and leave it out of sight unattended while also leaving a ton of our luggage at the top of the alley unattended. It's just like the classic Bridge and Torch logic puzzle. You've heard this one before: "Four people come to a river in the night. There is a narrow bridge, but it can only hold two people at a time. They have one torch and, because it's night, the torch has to be used when crossing the bridge. Person A can cross the bridge in 1 minute, B in 2 minutes, C in 5 minutes, and D in 8 minutes. When two people cross the bridge together, they must move at the slower person's pace. The question is, can they all get across the bridge in 15 minutes or less?"

Except in our version of the classic problem we have 11 suitcases, 2 people, 1 alley, a torrential downpour, and no home. Classic.

What did we get ourselves into. 

It's a real shame we didn't get a photo of me soaking wet with my backpack of valuables strapped to my back at all times lugging 2 massive suitcases down the alley, stashing them in a doorway, running back up the slippery cobblestone in the pouring rain, grabbing 2 more suitcases, running back down and piling them up on top of one another inside the doorway; all the while Amanda is inching her way down the alley towards me with the remainder of the luggage. The solution to this particular problem was not having anyone steal our luggage (and literally our only belongings in life) while it was left unattended at either end of the alleyway. Conveniently, right next door to our pile of luggage was a pub.

Maybe we can think of a plan over a pint?

Thankfully, after only a few more minutes of us wondering what the hell we were going to do, an angel appeared before us in the form of a woman who let us into the building.

Hallelujah!

After a little bit of clothes drying and a tiny bit of unpacking to find a dry alternative it was time for a well-earned pint. Conveniently located next to our flat, The Walrus and The Carpenter would do just fine. Conveniently regulated, UK imperial pints are 20oz instead of 16oz... a 25% bonus!

UK Pint #1