Books, Arts & Manners: La Dolce Vita in the Snow

THERE’S hardly such a thing as an ugly mountain, but some are more beautiful than others, and high among the “some” is the ring of peaks surrounding the ski resort of Cortina d’Ampezzo, a hundred miles north of Venice. These mountains are not only beautiful but witty. Like the rocks of our Bryce Canyon, they are dolomitic limestone—pink and orange, not grey, and with the softer bits easily eroded, leaving fantastic towers and crenelations. The north end of town is bounded by the slabs of the Cristallo group, looking like an improbably dramatic painted backdrop. Turn your back on the Cristallo and you’re facing the fanciful spires of Croda da Lago and Becco di Mezzodi, perched on top of a snow-covered plateau. On your left is the handsome but more conventional Sorapis, but around to the right are the Tofana mountains, three massive peaks that look translucent in the late afternoon sun. No wonder the Cortinesi seem contented with their lot.

But even in near-paradise there are disappointments and disagreements. While the Italian jetset is enough in evidence to warrant an article on Cortina in Town and Country from time to time, the international jetset hasn’t accorded it the same notice as Gstaad or St. Moritz or Courchevel. The local authorities reportedly hope that a repeat visit of the winter Olympics (held in Cortina in 1956) would put the town on more people’s mental map; but so far they have failed to get the nod. And even granted the success of Albertville, I may not be the only one who wonders if an invasion of the hordes needed for a modern made-fortelevision Olympics wouldn’t damage the texture of this lovely place.

About the Author

Linda Bridges

Ms. Bridges is the former editor-at-large of National Review.

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THERE’S hardly such a thing as an ugly mountain, but some are more beautiful than others, and high among the “some” is the ring of peaks surrounding the ski resort of Cortina d’Ampezzo, a hundred miles north of Venice. These mountains are not only beautiful but witty. Like the rocks of our Bryce Canyon, they are dolomitic limestone—pink and orange, not grey, and with the softer bits easily eroded, leaving fantastic towers and crenelations. The north end of town is bounded by the slabs of the Cristallo group, looking like an improbably dramatic painted backdrop. Turn your back on the Cristallo and you’re facing the fanciful spires of Croda da Lago and Becco di Mezzodi, perched on top of a snow-covered plateau. On your left is the handsome but more conventional Sorapis, but around to the right are the Tofana mountains, three massive peaks that look translucent in the late afternoon sun. No wonder the Cortinesi seem contented with their lot.

But even in near-paradise there are disappointments and disagreements. While the Italian jetset is enough in evidence to warrant an article on Cortina in Town and Country from time to time, the international jetset hasn’t accorded it the same notice as Gstaad or St. Moritz or Courchevel. The local authorities reportedly hope that a repeat visit of the winter Olympics (held in Cortina in 1956) would put the town on more people’s mental map; but so far they have failed to get the nod. And even granted the success of Albertville, I may not be the only one who wonders if an invasion of the hordes needed for a modern made-fortelevision Olympics wouldn’t damage the texture of this lovely place.