Sledding Italian style

The weather’s been quite balmy the past few days, but some remnants of snow still cling to the upper reaches of the central Apennines just ¾ of an hour away. And so yesterday, on a glorious sun-drenched morning, off we headed for the slopes to try out Julius’ two new sleds.

We went to one of our favourite spots, summer or winter – Pintura, at close to 2,000 m, just a few km past the most popular skiing destinations in Marche, Sassotetto and Maddalena. After threading our way beyond them through roads narrowed to alleys by the Italians’ proclivity to defy parking logic, we found Pintura pleasantly busy but not overly so. The same was true for the snow on the ground – a reasonable covering with patches of brown soggy earth dotting the slopes (although “pasting” may be more apt than “dotting”).

Julius’ first run was one of discovery … that the sled was rather faster than he anticipated, and that he was unable to deal with said speed, parting company with it in rather spectacular fashion as he stumbled upon a new level of meaning to the term “out of control”. Like Julius, Maria went to the top of the steepest slope with the second sled … and discovered precisely the same thing. With my limited exposure to all sports snow-related, I tried the lower, more gentle slopes, where we remained for the rest of a very enjoyable day, returning home tired, smiling, and bruised.

Like any outing into the outdoors in Italy, it’s about more than the targeted activity … a lot more. That’s because there are Italians there, and they do things in a way that can only be described as, well, Italian. First off, it’s a rare thing to find a single family heading off to the slopes – normally at least 3 combine to bring a veritable team of fun-seekers to the arena. And “fun” is most definitely the word, mixed with a good dose of the obligatory level of extreme parental overprotection, rendering a constant stream of laughter, yelling, song, and squeals.

At the cafe near the car park, there's a constant crowd sitting on deck chairs enjoying the scene, as if they’re reclined on their beach chairs at their favourite lido on the coast – it barely raises a brain-sweat to imagine them in precisely the same pose with precisely the same sunglasses lying on a striped chair beneath a matching striped parasol smoking precisely the same brand of cigarette.

Below them, concerned mothers clamber down the slopes in their high-heeled boots after kids bobbling gently down the hill at a speed all too dramatic for them – “Frena! Frena!” (Brake! Brake!) is the most constant refrain of the day. I actually believe that their child’s speed doesn’t really make a difference at all, they simply have a biological need to call out to their offspring with some sort of concern for their safety – they’d be doing the same even if their child was playing tiddly-winks (“Watch your thumb!”).

One particular scene had me chuckling for a while, and brings a smile to my face even now. “Paolo! Vieni qui! (Come here!) Frena!” yelled mom in her city outfit as she stumbled down the slope, bent forward in her vocal exertion and endeavour not to slip and fall. 5-year-old Paolo continues down the hill, picking up speed as he passes a group of 4 teenagers arm-in-arm, singing loudly as they climb back up for their next ride down on a tarpaulin they’ve brought for the team ride. Flashing past them a few seconds later goes Paolo’s dad, loping past in his city kit in long, ungainly strides, propelled by the same built-in call of nature: “Paolo! Frena! Vieni qui!”

Paolo, who knows full well how to brake the sled, stops and allows dad to catch up. There’s a bent-over, breathless remonstration (I’m sure Paolo had a smile on his face) before the long walk back up the hill, dad pulling the sled. Halfway up they’re joined by mom, who spends the remainder of the climb bent over Paolo sharing her expert and intimate knowledge of the dangers of … what is it today? … sledding, not to mention the perilous consequences of not listening to his parents. I can’t be sure, but I might have heard Paolo humming cheerfully to himself all the way up.

Naturally, exactly the same scene plays itself out once more just 5 minutes later.