There is something for everyone in Vinschgau - families, couples, singles, dogs, cats - especially for those with a love for the out-of-doors..and speck (ham). If you are afraid of heights, hate the sight of fruit trees, or simply must have a steady intake of [insert modern, processed object here], well, here may not be the dream vacation spot. The mentality here is bit like the Carolinas - these good mountain folk just want to be on their own, outsiders. But the smart ones know the benefits of belonging to a larger country, mainly education.

Here’s a video slideshow of our trip, as a present to Alex from his parents for earning his Doktor-Ing. Google reduced the quality, but also our camera couldn’t take the intense sunshine or we’re just unskilled, hobby photographers. One day, I’ll learn to edit better. But with this digital age, I’ve forgotten how to be more choosy. Enjoy.

Signs, Signs

Occasionally, you’ll find a few info signs written with a bit of English text, but one thing is for sure, every thing is written twice - in German or Italian. As we drove along, the languages on signs would flip-flop between villages. We figured if Italian was written on top, then Italian was the majority language for this particular village. In Kastellbell, where we stayed, German was on top. But it’s not like the German I know: ein bissel is süddtirolish for ein bisschen or a little.

Maxing the Mountains

Mountain biking here is insane. The day after we arrived, we attempted to ride up to St. Martin, an elevation difference of 1200 meters. I’m an out-of-shape flatlander, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from victory. But we didn’t make it. Blast the sun and somewhere an hour or so into the trek we realized we didn’t have any money with us. I was demoralized at the thought of having no beer at the summit. Good thing my bike is a dream, but demanded way more skill than I could muster. On the downhill trail, I fell off my bike because my tire got stuck on a pinecone. Geesus. A pinecone! Mr. Cube forgave me and luckily I live to tell the tale.

Read the rest of this entry »