Snowed in

For most of us, that live in towns, a snowfall is a one-day wonder. From the first snow-flake that falls, there is a feeling of euphoria. We can revel in the soft silence that follows, and enjoy the hypnotic effect of staring up into the sky as the snow flakes gently caress us. Unattractive landscapes become beautiful under their blanket of snow. We may build a snowman and throw a few snowballs, there might be temporary disruption to our daily lives at school or work. This only adds to the excitement. Soon, however, we are usually left with wet soggy pavements and grey mounds of piled-up snow.
In the mountains, it is quite different. In the past fifty years, the snow has become the livelihood of the people there. Skiing has become a glamorous, sophisticated sport. There are lots of activities for non-skiers too. The hotels often have saunas and swimming pools.

Our few days in Arabba, reminded us of a different life there, from the not too distant past. The fact that we got there at all, was due to our bossy Sat-Nav. No-one dared contradict her, as she guided us up the most treacherous mountain roads. We were so busy catching up on our friends' news, that we hardly noticed that the road was thick with icy snow, the only other traffic was the odd snow-plough, looking very surprised to see us. When we arrived, we realised why. A mass exodus from Arabba was taking place. Anyone who could, was leaving. We'd only just arrived and our friends were so looking forward to skiing that we carried on regardless, hiring skis and helmets, and even trying to ski on the fresh snow. All the lifts were closed though, and the only people out and about were tourists.
Now, it's one thing to walk around in thermal underwear and bright, colourful ski suits, sunbathe on the terraces of the rifugi and test your sking ability on the various piste, and savour the delights of vin brulé, bombardini, cioccolata calda. When dark snow clouds descend over the mountains, the ski lifts grind to a halt, and the passes around make access impossible, you are reminded of just how harsh life in the mountains can be.
We soon realised we were trapped in Arabba.Our friend was booked in for another week, and expecting to join a group that was due to arrive the next day. We asked if we could stay longer in the hotel. The answer was, that one hundred and sixty English skiers were due to arrive. We pointed out that if one hundred and sixty people could get in, surely two Italians and one Russian could get out.
We had this conversation many times, and each time the logic of it seemed to take people by surprise.
We went for a walk to get some fresh air, the scenery was amazing, but were turned back by a local woman called Rita, who panicked when she saw us, telling us there was severe danger of an avalanche.
On Saturday morning, we had to check out, to make room for the people due to arrive. We were told that one of the passes was now clear, but we had to leave before mid-day. Our only worry was leaving our friend behind. She still hoped to ski. The leader of her group telephoned to say that he was on his way, he was going to sort everything out. Things started looking hopeful.
We had been trying to dig the car out for two days, fighting a battle with the snow diggers. These were manned by stern-looking men, who ploughed away regardless of what was in the way. If you got scooped up and thrown on a roof, or they threw piles of snow back over the car, you had to just laugh and carry on.
As we were plucking up courage to leave our friend and try our luck on the pass, what should we see, but an old grey mini bus, with a union flag on the front, right-hand drive. At the wheel, beaming  with delight was the leader of our friend's group. The windows were all wound down, people hanging out, cameras clicking, looking at the spectacular view of Arabba covered in snow. What could have looked rather threatening to some, looked absolutely amazing to them. A sight to behold. they could have been on their way to Woodstock.
We felt much happier leaving our friend, knowing she had company. We got in the car and set off, past Rita's house and holding our breath until we reached the top of the pass.
Last night, we spoke to our friend. The snow is still falling. Only the skiers who came with the leader from the next village, have been able to get through. Out of the one hundred and sixty expected, only about twenty were there. the dining room of the hotel, which had been buzzing with conversation and full of friendly people was quite different.

Just a few of the things we did to pass the time :-

Try a stranger's cocktail, he said it was called a "Hugo". I tasted like it had been made with leftover rocket ...
Kiss a German on the cheek for his birthday photo
Watch my husband pole dance (remember the pole to prop up the ceiling?)
Play table tennis using the floor and walls as part of the court
Make friends with all sorts of friendly people from all over the place
Discover where the best spas in Slovenia are
Discover that the word sherbert comes from Arabic and not from the word sorbetto

Guess what makes of cars were under the snow, judging by their shape