domenica 22 luglio 2012

Camping in Cortina

I left the B&B early on Saturday morning and hauled myself and all my worldly goods to the bus station. I bought my ticket and the man helpfully told me which stance to go to. This turned out to be just as well, because Treviso bus station has a high-tech system of screens which announce departures, but my bus never appeared on any of them. It was easy enough to find the right place though, as it was the only stop where at least half of the passengers were wearing hiking boots.

Normally I'm not a fan of long-distance bus travel, especially on winding mountain roads, but this coach was air-conditioned and comfortable, and from my seat at the front I had a fabulous view of the increasingly stunning scenery as we wended our way up the valley. And also of the unending drama between the driver and the passengers who wanted to get off along the way. The driver seemed to have decided that some of the stops were request stops and, as we approached them, would ask, in a voice that was far too quiet to be heard at the back of the bus, if anyone wanted to get off. If there was nobody waiting at the stop, he would simply drive straight past, only to be forced to screech to a halt as somebody appeared from the rear seats desperately asking to be let off the bus. For the one lady who had understood his system, though, he chivalrously offered to drop her off outside her house in the village instead of at the official stop. Nevertheless, I was glad that Cortina was the terminus and the bus would have to stop there!

My brother picked me up in Cortina and drove us to the Camping Dolomiti, which is just out of town next to the ski jump that was built for the 1956 Olympics. My brother and his wife had already checked in, so I went to the reception to explain that I would be sharing their camping pitch for the next few days. He had very few teeth and spoke dialect, so we had a hard time understanding each other, but although standard Italian didn't seem to be in his repertoire, he spoke very good French, which helped us to get by. There was a Spanish couple next to me who were trying to find out the best place to get the wheel of their car fixed, and, despite the fact that I don't speak any Spanish, I ended up trying to interpret for them. Any hopes of a possible career change I might have had were swiftly shattered, however, as when I left the office, I heard him say to them, "So, you need to repair the wheel of your bicycle?" Living in polyglot land is fun!

The man was actually very helpful though, and the campsite was lovely. It was shady and had a swimming pool and a great view of the mountains and, best of all, really warm showers and a bar serving delicious hot chocolate, both of which turned out to be an important feature of our holiday, especially when the thunderstorms drew in at the end of the week, soaking us to the skin on the mountain top and testing my 25 euro Decathlon tent to its limits!