Blooming crocuses, villages and hotels at an altitude of just over a thousand meters. Around them are green fields, so familiar to us from advertising chocolate… Vera Stepygina invites us to go on a spring trip to the Austrian Tyrol.
In late April-early May, the menu of European restaurants begins to adorn the exotic, slightly scaly, slightly prickly, almost predatory word asparagus. If you are lucky, and at this time, you will find yourself in one of these restaurants – take it without hesitation. This will mean that you have taken part in one of the healthiest gastronomic festivals in the world – the “Season of young asparagus”.
Delicate, with a delicate taste, always delicately prepared, white, green, purple, in the form of soup or risotto, or maybe just lightly grilled-asparagus will not disappoint anyone, it is equally loved by a Frenchman, a fan of haute cuisine and fine wine, and a burgher who accompanies his lunch with a beer. Maybe because it is one of the first vegetables that confirms the inevitability of the long-awaited summer, rewarding the body that yearns for the sun and warmth with a shock dose of vitamins. Or maybe the status of one of the strongest aphrodisiacs firmly established behind asparagus is doing its job. Be that as it may, “asparagus” already carries gastronomic tours, no less popular than “truffle” or “wine”. If I were a food blogger, I would definitely write about such a tour. But, unfortunately, I am only a mother of two children – so I will tell you about the place where we meet the asparagus season every year, because in addition to visiting restaurants, there are so many beautiful things in the world that fill our lives with colors and impressions, just as we fill our meals with taste and pleasure.
Tyrol is the perfect place not only to try out the young asparagus, but also to take a spring break. Have you been there in January? Be sure to get together again! You will discover a completely different Austria! And don’t forget to bring your skis again – the numerous Alpine glaciers will give you the incomparable feeling of a slow slalom on a good strong track. What you could not afford in the winter because of the strong wind and burning frost, in May, “make your day” – a chaise longue at an altitude of just over two thousand meters, a lush dumpling and sun cream (after the dumpling, it is better with an anti-cellulite effect). Even a couple of days will be enough to return to Moscow no paler than friends who spent the holidays on the beach or smoking at the dacha barbecue.
And if skiing in winter is not your element, then for those like you and me, who do not take offense at the nickname “gornoplyazhniki”, there are a lot of alternative mountain activities. For example, go on a hiking trip-armed with a basket of sandwiches, a bottle of water and walking sticks to walk to the lower station. Having settled down for a picnic to look at the Alpine marmots – Mormots whistling nearby (it would be good to hum the sad “…And my marmot is with me”, let this be the first acquaintance of your children with Beethoven). Or you can dress warmly and take the lift swinging over the precipice to the very top point of the glacier, where you can take a selfie against the background of the alpine meadows stretching very far below. But the most interesting thing will be waiting for you at the bottom. The first villages, hotels at an altitude of just over a thousand meters. Around them are green fields, so familiar to us from advertising chocolate. Generously flavored with manure in October, in May they are covered with white, blue, purple crocuses. A carpet that you can trample on, a simple beauty, to dissolve in which-to fill your heart with peace. The noise of a working tractor, the lowing of a cow, the murmur of numerous streams – all that Julia Andrews sang about: The hills are alive with the sounds of music.
On the first of May, the Tyrolean holiday of the end of winter, these sounds will also be added to the ringing of bells – village boys in national costumes go to their homes and hotels, with the sounds of huge bells (more similar in size to the ship’s rynda) expel the remnants of the cold and cold and beg for treats. In one year, we witnessed a ceremony in which the average age of the “boys” was about thirty years. The treats they demanded were appropriate. To our hotel, which was the lowest, the final point of the route, the good fellows walked in a nervous, uneven formation, their bells ringing demanding, aggressive and, it seems, a little Russian. The basket of offerings, which was dragged with difficulty by the strongest Tyrolean at the time, was filled to the brim with bottles of schnapps, sweets and bunches of young, strong asparagus, announcing the real arrival of spring as well as a May Day banner.