In yesterday's briefing, our field trip leader Guilio described our accommodation for the next two nights, an Alpine refugio at the not-inconsiderable altitude of 2870 m, as a "savage hut". Being a stated fan of all things of a savage bent, I instantly warmed to it, furthermore believing that a little rough living might be a relief after the overfed, overwatered and overheated week I had experienced in Verbania. Having envisaged a leaky wooden shack, with no lights, heat or water, and inhabited by burly bearded Germans in lederhosen, I was somewhat surprised to be greeted upon entry by a full bar with an espresso machine and cakes in a display cabinet, tended by a well-to-do English blonde. (I must remember to ask her how the hell she ended up there; definitely a bonus, though, as a) she ain't too shabby, and b) it makes ordering drinks rather easier.) I had clearly misunderstood the form of savagery that occurs in the Italian Alps.
Dinner being a full four-pronged attack on the waistline as experienced for every meal in Verbania (suppo, primo, secondo, dulce), washed down by litres of decent Piemontese wine and mineral waters, my re-education on these matters continued apace. In fact, adding in the total lack of biting insects, the absence of obnoxious humidity, a couple of roaring fires and a panoramic view of Monte Rosa and its attendant peaks, I am gradually forming the opinion that Giulio is either a master of understatement, or a man who aspires to exceptionally high living standards; either way, he is clearly a man after my own heart.
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