Merano May Be In Italy But Has An Austrian Soul

The lovely village of  Merano, or Meran is geographically in Italy, but is a bicultural town,  with a decidedly Austrian soul and  more rooted in the Austrian  Sud Tyrol culture.

This is not at all surprising , given that Merano was in the Austrian Hungarian Empire until it was turned over to Italy after WWI.

Tyrolian roots run deep here, and don’t look like they are receding despite being in Italy for 100 years.

I had chosen Merano for their renown thermal spa and for it postcard pretty village nestled in a valley among mountain peaks.

The area is also famous for their wines, which peaked my interest as well.  I especially looked forward to drinking some red Lagrein, which  I found wonderful!

The surrounding steep mountains were iced with snow, but the village somehow did not feel as cold as Venice,  though the temps were lower.

I planned to stay the longest there, for the clean mountain air, the natural beauty and the thermal spa.

The wild rustling river Passiro divides the old town from the newer residential area.  The village is in some parts quite hilly with cobblestone streets and Tyrolian architecture.

Actually I heard more German spoken that I did Italian, even amongst  store clerks, with a preference for German spellings  over the Italian equivalent.

Obviously it is a popular tourist destination for Austrians, since the Austrian border is only a few kilometers north.

Apparently prehistoric man found this part of the world lovely enough to settle in these unforgiving Alpine peaks.

Just north of Merano is where Otzi the iceman mummy was found, who lived 3400 years ago BC.

The balcony of the airbnb apartment I rented overlooked those fabulous white capped peaks, yet in the sunshine it felt warm enough to sit outside.  Amazing!

Breathing in the fresh crisp mountain air was very invigorating to me.  I have learned to appreciate the stark difference living in Paris, which however beautiful it is, has polluted air.

The rock studded river cuts through the town, surging through with such force that the crystal clear white crested waters made a constant loud rustling sound that I found meditative to listen to.

There are several nice paths and promenades along the river to take in the views, as well as gardens.  Walking along the Passirio river, we were suddenly captivated by the  sweetest of smells.

After sniffing here and there, It was evident that this wonderous perfume was coming from a flowering tree, I had never seen before.

Tiny yellow flowers with a crimson purple center dotted the branches if this wildly fragrant tree.   Enthralled, we gathered some fallen seed pods in hopes of future planting.

After recounting our horticultural discovery to the owner of a village candle and fragrance shop, she quickly produced a bottle of perfume and soap made with this exquisitely scented flower.

It is called chimonanthus praecox, and is a favored tree in Venetian courtyards that blooms in the winter months. Originally from China, it must have been carried to Venice along the Silk road.

The Merano thermal spa has been famous for many years, attracting many noble names to bathe in its radon rich waters, to ease mental, rheumatoid  and circulatory illnesses.

The very modern facility is quite vast with multiple outdoor pools,though the majority were closed for the winter.

The ones that were open, were connected to the interior pools that you just swim out into.

The spa was more crowded than at Sermione with a lot of parents and their children, making the whole atmosphere more noisy with the gleeful splashing around of little ones.

The waterproof pouch encasing my iPhone was forbidden, so sorry there are not any photos this time.

At Sirmione, there was the lake to look out upon, here there was those snow capped mountains that made up the  surrounding landscape.

My favorite times to go are just before sunset, preferring to be immersed with silvery vapors swirling around my head against the darkening blue sky.

The powerful bubbling water jets make for a whole body massage. I left feeling totally relaxed and soothed as I walked back in the frigid mountain air.

I am not a skier, despite several tries on the slopes of Vermont and Austria, but I wanted to go the ski area for snow filled vistas and hopes of at least some sledding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are several to choose  from, but Merano 2000 looked the easier to get to from the village.

Exiting the cable car, I saw that the ski patrol had just brought in a fallen skier,  bringing back memories of myself at ten years old, being hauled up after badly spraining my ankle attempting to ski down a beginners slope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I felt a little wimpy standing there, seeing all the little kids sail pass me, mastering their skis like pros.

Aimee talked me out of sledding, which I had wanted to do. The sledding trail looked doable, except it did wind down a fairly steep mountain.

She kept reminding me that I could easily sled up and outside the walls of the trail, and tumble down with a fracture or two.

True, this Louisiana girl  had little experience in sledding, and plus there was a warning sign that if you ran into other sledders, you would be held responsible.

With my sledding hopes dashed and not feeling like joining along Austrian beer drinking songs blasting from the cafe, there wasn’t much to do except admire the beautiful scenery.

Even that at times gave me some mild vertigo looking down those steep slopes.  Obviously I don’t do mountains very well on top of them, preferring instead to  admire them from afar!

I resigned to descend on the cable car feeling somewhat defeated with my sledding aspirations, but the snow scene proved colourful despite me being a mere bystander.

One of the reason, I prefer to stay in an apartment over a hotel, is to be able to cook regional foods from the outdoor markets, albeit a challenge using few ingredients at hand, with few utensils.

The friday morning one in front of the train station was large with not only foods, but all sort of clothing and leather goods for sell.

The whole area is famous for speck, or mountain cured smoked hams, sometimes covered with juniper berries.

Those sharp spiky artichokes called me to take them home, as the spiked kind are rarely if ever seen in Paris.

With seven of them for only 2.50 euros, it was a gourmet’s bargain for sure! I made a really sumptuous artichoke ragout(stew} redolent with garlic, some red onions, cherry tomatoes and lots of olive oil, topped with Grana Padano Trentino cheese made nearby.

In Paris I often enjoy making an artichoke ragout with loads of red wine and lardons(French slab bacon), but with those beauties, I wanted only the artichokes to reign.

Besides, I certainly was not willing to share any of the delicious Lagrein to be splashed in the pot!

Simple and robust, it was bursting with ultimate artichoke flavour that can only be attained by the freshness of chokes.

Another night I made a carbonara of artisanal pasta stuffed with spinach and ricotta.  Delicious simplicity after a day of hiking around the village.

The Lagrein was deep, and fleshy with a heady perfume, that somewhat reminded me of a Mondeuse from the Savoie region.

Lagrein is not related, and is indigenous to the Merano region.  We drink of course also Prosecco Superior brut Valdobbiadene, made  just north of Venice as aperitifs.

Our only restaurant meal at Trattoria Mainardo, turned out to be fantastic! A family affair, we were warmly greeted by Sabina and her daughter Valentina.

Local mountain cuisine reigns with spectacular Canederli or knödels made with either bacon, spinach or cheese bathed in melted butter.  I insisted on all three.

A whole slab of roasted pork ribs highlights the generous portions given here, that easily served both of us.

We gorged every morning on the super crunchy Sud Tyrol crisp bread called Schuttelbrot, made with rye flour flavoured with fennel and caraway seeds covered in olive oil.

I love any sort of rye breads or crackers, that I often have enjoyed eating in Scandinavia and this will be another one to confection at home.

Afternoon tea at pretty König pastry shop, offered good Viennese style cakes.  No worries about weight gain with all the walking we did here and in Venice.

As I lingered in the sunshine on the balcony overlooking those tall sugar frosted peaks, I was confronted with the unsurmountable “mountains” in my own life.

Grief and loss are now for me are like mountains that I have to accept in my landscape of life and learn to live with them in my backyard.

If I can’t remove them, then I have to live my life in their presence and circumvent them seeking whatever pleasure I can from life despite them.

Our last night in Venice before flying back to Paris, we stayed in the elegant antique filled  CaAngeli, on the Grand Canal that served fabulous quality breakfasts, a rarity today.

Last Venetian dinner was at the Osteria Trefanti for wonderful lagoon sea foods with a different slant from the traditional. Razor clams, both grilled and with ginger and a tad of mint were juicy and delicious as was the Turbot in coconut milk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filets of swordfish were perfectly cooked leaving the fish tender and savory sauced with olives and herbs.

A real find too for wines, as they have some unusual ones for Northwest Italy and even from Slovenia.

I choose a Nosiola white, a new discovery for me, that had a spicy nutty nose, yes even like hazelnuts and almost truffle like complexity.

Riding the Alilaguna water bus back to the airport took almost as much time as it takes for the flight back to Paris, as the boat picked up passengers from the Lido and other islands.

Venice may be a star location to see, but all of Northern Italy will offer beautiful lakes, snow capped mountains, and plenty of spas!