Pizza my Heart (in Italia)

I inch my way towards the edge of the slope, feet locked into my board nice and tight, legs loose from the stretching i just did (hey, i'm getting old), and I look down at the beautiful white blanket covering the mountain, with scattered patches of green tree tips peering out. The sky is as blue as I've seen in months with the sun high overhead. I didn't bring sunglasses so I have to pull down my goggles to block out the blinding rays. I even plastered on some sun block to make sure I don't burn. To my right, I hear faint conversations in Italian as skiiers snap into their skis, while others lay out in hammocks soaking up some vitamin D; their faces resembling red racoons from spending the entire weekend in in the sun.

Lukasz and I give each give head nods, signalling that we are each ready to go. It's been a couple seasons since I've boarded, so I figure I better let him lead the way. The first time out every season I get a bit worried that I've forgotten how to turn on my board. Honestly, I'm a bit nervous. He takes off on his skis, graceful and sturdy. It looks so easy. I take a breath, then start down the mountain, picking up speed and remembering the joy of my trips to Tahoe, Whistler, Breckenridge (and Snoqualmie). Carving comes back in an instant. It really is like riding a bike. For a couple seconds I actually think I'm better at this than I ever was (which is average at best). I look up to make sure I don't lose Lukasz.

Then BAM! Just as I come out of a toe-to-heel turn, my face decides it would like to get a closer look at the Italian snow. A REALLY close look. The edge of my board catches and I take a very ungraceful tumble, flipping a few times, twisting into awkward positions, my goggles spun around to the back of my head. This happens only 100 meters from the top. Where everyone getting off the lift can see me, as well as everyone riding up. So much for it all coming back to me and being better than ever. I get up quickly and awkwardly, not wanting to make a scene. 5 seconds later, I'm tasting snow again. It tastes even worse the second time. Like humiliation.  2 falls in the first 30 seconds. It's going to be a long day.

....

Francis and I decided to visit Lukasz in Italy for a weekend so we could get in some boarding/skiing, and visit his new town of Brescia (he's Polish and left Poland the day before I arrived...some friend!). Brescia is about 1.5 hours away from Milan, while the resort we went to in the Dolomites (Madonna di Campiglio) is about 2 hours away. It was good to hang out with my old San Jose office mates, several thousand miles from the last place we were together.

Village on a lake on the way to the mountain:

Despite the not so promising start to my day on the mountain, it ended up being a lot of fun. I only fell one other time, and it was when I was trying to stop anyway, so we'll say it was on purpose. The views from the top were gorgeous, and by the end of the day I was going straight down some very steep slopes without an ounce of hesitation. My carving really has gotten better! Ok, enough bragging.

The mountain was very nice. The views were fantastic, and there are several areas where people go up the lift just to lay out and relax (why ski when you can just enjoy the sun and the views???). If you've ever gone skiing, you know what I mean...the views from the top of any mountain are just priceless. There's also some really good food up there. I guess it's true what they say...the Italians take their food seriously (I don't know who "they" are, but I think I've heard that before).

The resort doesn't get a lot of foreigners, which meant shorts lines on the lifts, empty runs, and not a single soul in the ski rental place (except a guy who tried to speak Tagalog to Francis, which was pretty random). Because there are mostly Italians, not too many people spoke English (which seems to be a general trend in Italy in general). Lucikly Lukasz is pretty good with his Italian, as well as his Italian cupped hand motions, which is truly a sign of Italian fluency. He's been in Italy just as long as I have been in Poland...but it's clear his Italian is 500000000 times better than my Polish. If I had to speak only in Polish throughout the process of parking, renting skis, buying lift tickets, getting through a cafeteria line, and finding my way around the mountain, I would probably just stay home instead.

This was Francis's first time skiing and he took private lessons. They went really well (as long as he doesn't have to turn, as he says).

Lukasz shows Francis how not to fall off the cliff:

After a pretty exhausting day, we went back to Brescia for dinner. This was of course the thing I was looking forward to the most. Food. I had Polish Italian food in Warsaw before I left to prepare myself for this moment: my first proper meal in Italy.

And let's just say I got a little carried away. The menus are not in English, but luckily we get some pretty good training with the names of Italian foods in the US, so it wasn't a problem. I scarfed my skinny and crunchy breadsticks within 5 seconds (if you've ever been to Vince's in Seattle, you might appreciate the power of these skinny and crunchy pre-meal breadsticks). Then I ordered some very meaty beef carpaccio (it was super thick like the teriyaki beef you find in Hawaii), a whole pizza (I brought Lactaid, because, I mean, I'm in Italy), and shared a pasta dish with Franny. It was all very good. I could definitely eat the raw beef with rice as a meal and be happy (and also probably ridiculed), and the thin crust and the fresh toppings on the pizza were superb (the anti-Pizza Hut). The only surprise is that it didn't come sliced (which I guess is normal). I had to work for this pizza. If I was in the pizza slicer business, I'd move to Italy and make a fortune. Italians are said to be lazy (no offense, but that's what Wikipedia says), so cutting their pizza for them seems like a great business plan.

A random observation is the way that they hold up 3 fingers. If you have seen the movie Inglorious Basterds you might know what I am talking about. Apparently, you need to hold up the 2 "peace" fingers and the thumb to signal three. I tried to do it in the American way, and the guy thought I was saying 4. Even with hand signals things can get lost in translation!

Don't do this:

Do this:

Another observation was the behavior and service of the staff at this restaurant. So far in my European experience, the service hasn't seemed to be too urgent or attentive. The staff usually lazes around like they have nothing better to do. This place was completely different. The hostess showed us to our table in a speed walk. I actually had to jog to keep from losing her. The servers zoomed back and forth with the same sense of speed and urgency that New Yorkers have when navigating through mobs of tourists in Times Square. Everytime we asked for something, we had it within seconds. A lady even spilled our beers because she was moving so fast (so maybe that is a downside). It was actually kind of nice to have service that cared about paying attention to us. We didn't feel rushed; just important.

The pizza we had on the second day was probably even better than the first. Nevermind the fact that it looks like a hot dog pizza. Actually, maybe it was better BECAUSE of the fact it was a hot dog pizza. (By the way, this pizza should be an American staple...our 2 favorite meals combined into one!).

The tiramisu was also AWESOME. It was more puddinggy than cakey (although it did have a few lady fingers buried in there). This is now my favorite kind. I only eat puddinggy tiramisu from now on.

All this made for a nice first experience in Italy, which will definitely be followed by other trips to Verona, Venice, Florence, Rome, and many other places. Now I just have to find more time for it!

Ps. An 8 minute cab ride was about 25 Euros, which is ridiculous!!! At least it was a Prius, so we were saving the planet.

A couple pics of Brescia. Don't ask me where the people are: