I'd been dying to see Val Gardena, that picture postcard area of world class skiing, nestled beneath the monstrous, jagged peaks of the Dolomites.
Alas... Heavy clouds hid the mountains. A cold, gloomy rain made for a less than enjoyable trek to the highest elevations...
Where rain turned to snow, then blizzard conditions during our walk to the restaurant.
Hard to believe this battered sign points to something marvelous, but sure enough, right around the bend on this desolate road was a cozy little spot for Speck (the local's prosciutto) and a warming glass of wine.
The chilly rains hitched a ride home and seem intent on staying for awhile.
Making this the ideal day to...
Get the heck outta town!
Surely you’ve heard that saying ‘what they don’t know won't hurt them?’ [as in hurt me?]
Well, I’m stretching the concept of President’s Day weekend about as far as I can take it, since Italians haven’t a clue what this long weekend means for Americans. (Please don’t tell them it’s not a religious holiday, that seemed to work like a charm.)
So, it’s off to Venice and hopefully bright, sunshiny skies.