notes on spaghetti 1

The first thing I see when I snap back into awareness is our van leaning into the opposite lane.

As the mountain road curves left and right, the van driver follows a line from one curve to the next, cornering a 90 degree turn by diving back into the correct lane before exiting out on the opposite lane.

This is not an F1 race. This is not a rally race. This is my taxi driver driving a Mercedes van of me and my friends up a snowy mountain.

“This is a sunset picture I took the other day,” he said, scrolling through one of his two phones. “Wow, that’s really pretty,” I said as eyed the approaching curb.

So as you may have guessed from the title, I am in Italy! Why? Not sure, but it’s been pretty cool thus far. Besides an absolutely grueling 20 hours of travel involving literally every mode of transportation, the winter wonderland of the Dolomites had transported me to some type of fantasy winter land.

After safely arriving to our mountain town, we all dropped our bags off at our hotels, grabbed some pizza, and promptly passed out. I was already on the precipice of sleep on the car but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.

The next day, we were finally able to see the landscape that we had missed.

As esteemed subscriber Noah Curran and I trudged our way through the snow-laden Vallungal, we stared back at the towering peaks and looked back to the ground looking for animal tracks.

But anyway, enough of that silly stuff! Yeah it was a pretty hike but today we ate some type of ragu spaghetti. It was pretty good — better than anything I could make. I just don’t think I can appreciate it very well.

And since we’re in South Tyrol — a region of Italy with heavy Austrian influences — I also got a wienerschnitzel! Mine was terribly juicy and tender. Sadly, esteemed subscriber Leo Liu did not get so lucky. Tough luck!

Before I pass out, please notify me if you do not wish to receive these emails! I will remove you from the list.

Ciao! Or, whatever Austrian people say to say goodbye.