Return to Bormio Part 2

ceiling of a small chapel – this must have been recently restored, as we did not see it on our previous trips to Bormio, and there was no explanation anywhere in the room, though there were display cases seemingly ready to hold text of some sort

In the evening we went out again for snacks and beer at a pub, which got very rowdy with a large group of young men singing largely incomprehensible songs. We never did figure out what tribe they belonged to, but one song went “Ocker, ocker, ocker, viva i pizzocher’ !” Only in Italy would a drinking song be an ode to the local pasta specialty: pizzocheri, buckwheat pasta cooked with potatoes and greens, then baked with cheese, garlic, sage, and butter.

wooden Schumi

During our walk, we saw outside a restaurant called Rasiga these fanciful carvings of Schumacher with his Ferrari cavallini (horses) and Valentino Rossi, the motorcycling champion

wooden Rossi

The next morning we got up in good time for our included breakfast, then drove up to the Bagni Vecchi (Old Baths), a few hundred meters above the town. We had been warned to reserve in advance because the Bagni Vecchi were likely to be crowded while the Bagni Nuovi are undergoing restoration. We got there half an hour before our reservation time of 11:00, and then they couldn’t find our reservation, but they let us in anyway.

Bagni Vecchi di Bormio, external view

external view of the Bagni Vecchi showing the outdoor (hot water) pool next to the old chapel. To the right is the main spa and hotel building.

The price has gone up considerably: at 35 euros each, it’s well over twice what we paid on our last visit to Bormio, and a ten-percent discount voucher from our hotel did not do much to ease the sting. Oh, well. All good things must go up in price, I suppose, and, the once a year or so that we manage to go, we can afford it.

Once we had checked in and paid, we were given a token to get a locker key and a package containing tubes of bath gel/shampoo and body lotion. Then we went along to a desk where a lady gave us big white bathrobes and towels, and plastic flip-flops (presumably sterilized for our use); you pay a 5 euro deposit for these.

The locker rooms are unisex, with curtained booths where you change into your bathing suit (forgot your suit? apparently you can buy one embroidered with the crest of the Bagni Vecchi, though I did not inquire about price). After changing and stuffing our clothes, coats, and bags into the (smallish) lockers, we strapped our locker keys to our wrists, and away we went.

Our first stop was perhaps the oldest part of the baths, a dark, steamy, echoey tunnel carved into the living stone of the mountain. The tunnel splits, with one side ending in a spherical steam room with stone benches, the other trailing even further back and filled about four feet deep with hot water. In deep winter, due to some weird thermal effect, this water is almost unbearably hot (even for me, who adore very hot baths), but the surrounding earth wasn’t frozen enough yet last weekend, so it was merely pleasantly warm.

We then went on to Enrico’s favorite feature, the outdoor pool, which is constantly refilled with fresh hot water from an open wooden trough running along three sides, with close-fitting wooden spigots. It also has several kinds of Jacuzzi jets. But the best thing about the pool is that you’re floating in hot water enjoying this view:

view from the pool, Bagni Vecchi, Bormio

(There used to be a great webcam view of the pool, but it was taken down a few years ago, perhaps for privacy reasons.)

My own favorite feature of the Bagni Vecchi is “Garibaldi’s baths”, a long stone pool in a cavernous dark room, with three waterfalls crashing down five meters or so from near the ceiling. You can sit under these waterfalls and get an excellent massage on your head, neck, and shoulders, and the water was the hottest in the entire spa that day.

There are also saunas – two small, traditional dry ones, and one larger with a view (the “Sauna Panoramica”), and two new large ones which are more like wood-panelled sweat rooms – I liked these even better than the dry saunas. (I was also fond of the mud baths that these have replaced, but apparently I’m in a minority on this.) There is a “chromatherapy” room with stone walls, where you lie on a divan and watch colored lights change while listening to “soothing” music – I didn’t bother with this. Several other “relaxation” rooms are scattered throughout, but I have a bone to pick with whoever thinks that shrill pipe music, however New Age, is soothing!

Apparently the Bagni Romani (Roman Baths) that used to cost extra are now included in the package, but we forgot to go to them – they’re basically rooms five feet deep in hot water. We also never made it into the standard Jacuzzi-style pools; we managed to fill three hours going back and forth among the aforementioned features, plus some time just lying in the sun in our damp bathing suits and bathrobes (which we should not have been able to do in late November! global warming?).

By 1:30 or so we were thoroughly waterlogged and relaxed, and I was getting hungry. We showered, changed, returned out towels etc., dried our hair, and went to the spa’s café for a snack of fruit and yogurt.

The road to the Passo dello Stelvio starts just beyond the turnoff for the Bagni Vecchi, and it was already closed for the winter – which seemed odd, considering how little snow had fallen. So we were able to take a walk up the road, completely unmolested by cars.

I was puzzled as to why so many pine trees had turned yellow. Surely that can’t be normal?
yellow pines

As we returned to our car, we saw climbers practicing on a rock face nearby.We headed for home, stopping along the way to fill our water bottles with fresh spring water, and to buy apples from one of the many stands along the way. The minimum we could buy was six kilos, so we’ll be eating a lot of apples for a while!

apples in crates

A Whole New Me

I’m a cartoon! I’m not quite sure where I got the idea (although, admittedly, a number of bloggers are doing it). Since the unifying theme of this site is me, it makes sense to use myself as a logo. But I rarely like photos of myself, and a cartoon portrait seemed like more fun anyway.

The artist is Mike Segawa, whose work I noticed on a (Not Safe For Work) Buffy fan site years ago – he had done some wonderful pictures of Buffy characters and scenes, and I wanted to track him down to find out if he had any more. Eventually I found an email address and dropped him a note, but got no reply – for two years. I guess he had kept my email, because when he finally did get a site up (mikesegawa.com) he wrote to let me know about it.

By then I had come up with the idea of a cartoon portrait for my site, so I wrote back immediately – but again got no reply. I kept Mike’s site in my bookmarks and visited now and then to see what was new (lots of yummy artwork besides – yay! – more Buffy). A few months ago he mentioned on his home page that the email address had been wrong, and offered a new one. I wrote to that, and finally we were in touch.

It took a little longer to get the project done, but here we are at last. It’s more portrait than cartoon – the family double chin is clearly in evidence – but, hey, that’s the real me. And the lean-back air of ironic amusement, with the skeptical Gromit eyebrows, seems appropriate for my site. What do you think?

Learn Italian in Song: Azzurro

A version sung last summer by the victorious Azzurri (Italian national football team), apparently as a fundraiser for charity. The guy in the blue shirt is Gianni Morandi (not a football player).

Azzurro – Sky Blue
Paolo Conte - Tournee - Azzurro

by Paolo Conte, made famous by Adriano Celentano

Cerco l’estate tutto l’anno I look for summer all year long
e all’improvviso eccola qua. And all of a sudden, here it is.
Lei é partita per le spiagge She has left for the beaches,
e sono solo quassu’ in citta’ , And I’m alone up here in the city.
sento fischiare sopra i tetti I hear whistling above the roofs
un aeroplano che se ne va. a plane that’s leaving.
Refrain
Azzurro,il pomeriggio é troppo azzurro Blue, the afternoon is too blue
e lungo per me. And long for me.
Mi accorgo I realize
di non avere piu’ risorse, That I have no more resources
e allora so now
io quasi quasi prendo il treno I could almost take the train
e vengo, vengo da te, And come, come to you
ma il treno dei desideri But the train of our desires
nei miei pensieri all’incontrario va. In my thoughts runs backwards.
Sembra quand’ero all’oratorio, It’s like when I was at the oratorio*
con tanto sole, tanti anni fa. With so much sun, so many years ago.
Quelle domeniche da solo Those Sundays alone
in un cortile, a passeggiar… Walking around in a courtyard
ora mi annoio piu’ di allora, Nowadays I get more bored than I did then
neanche un prete per chiacchierar… Not even a priest to chat with.
(refrain)
Cerco un po’ d’Africa in giardino, I look for a bit of Africa in the garden
tra l’oleandro e il baobab, Between the oleander and the baobab
come facevo da bambino, As I did when I was a kid
ma qui c’é gente, non si puo’ piu’, But there are people here, I can’t do that anymore
stanno innaffiando le tue rose, They’re watering your roses
non c’é il leone, But there’s no lion
chissa’ dov’é… who knows where it is.
(refrain)
*Oratorio in this context means a youth center, run by and physically attached to a Catholic church. They offer after school and summer programs to keep neighborhood kids out of trouble if their parents have to work.

if you find this useful and want more, let me know!

Hot Water

While in the UK a couple of weekends ago, I bought a hot water bottle at Boots, and packed it into my only luggage (carry-on) to bring back to Italy. The x-ray technician at security was momentarily confused: “Is that a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, they’re surprisingly hard to find in Italy,” I replied.

A security lady opened my bag carefully and pulled out a perfectly ordinary, red rubber hot water bottle, with the tag still on. (I had had a feeling that might be useful.)

“Well, you can’t carry it on,” she declared.

“It’s brand new and has never contained any liquid of any kind. What is the problem?”

“The rule says you can’t bring on water bottles,” she insisted stubbornly.

I wasn’t going to make a scene in airport security, but I was deeply puzzled. The lady asked a colleague his opinion.

“I don’t think it means that kind of water bottle,” he said.

“The rule says no water bottles!”

So she asked a supervisor, who looked bemused. “No, not that kind of water bottle. She can take it on.”

The lady looked put out – she apparently cherished the strictest possible interpretation of the rules. But I got to bring home my hot water bottle.

News and Fiction

I just got back from a visit to my dad in the UK. Because he is essentially bedridden, he watches a lot of TV, so I saw a great deal more of it than I usually do. The big news in Britain on Monday was the trial of Dhiren Barot, accused of being a top al Qaeda man, with big plans to make big bangs. None of these plans were ever actually carried out, for which, of course, we are thankful!

The press didn’t have much material to use in its hours of coverage: one photograph of the man and some court transcripts. They’re not allowed to film the trial, so they showed a photo of one of the barristers, superimposed on a computer-generated courtroom.

One of Barot’s ideas for causing mayhem had been to rent three limos, stuff them with gas cannisters and other explodables, and blow them up in garages underneath some of London’s swankiest hotels. To illustrate this point, the BBC showed footage of a white limosine, with an anonymous figure (head cut off by the framing of the shot) putting green gas cannisters inside. In other words: not having anything real to show, the BBC did a “recreation” of an event that never took place. At least they did not go so far as to fake up an explosion.

It seems that the line between news and fiction is getting mighty blurry.

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia