A Walk in the Woods

Last Sunday we had some friends over for dinner. Scott and I always lament about how this usually goes disastrously. Twice we have made burritos, and Scott, not repressing a desire to make his burrito really spicy, has crumpled some extra hot pepper on his burrito. On these two separate occasions, our guest has nearly choked to death because they thought that if Scott was doing it, it would be ok. I have suggested that in the interest of the health of future guests he should avoid the over spicing his food in front of anyone. I don't think he paid attention to me.
Our guests on Sunday had come once before. We made some pasta that was rolled too thin and consequently ended up being a big sticky lump. Another time we invited up the neighbors for some enchiladas, and I made the sauce too spicy. At our friend's house, where we previously had a stellar reputation, we over-kneaded the seitan, and rendered it difficult to chew. This time the food worked out all right, even if the refried beans were a little too gray.
As we had some time before our guests arrived at the Italian dinner hour, 7pm, we decided to go on a hike. Scott had been agitating for some time to walk up Marzola, the mountain behind our house. We've made this walk many times, and I really hate it. The path is very steep and unrelentingly uphill. After almost two months of rain, we suddenly also have fairly hot weather. We went from 18-C to over 30-C in the space of a week. We thought if we left early we would beat the heat.
After having hiked up the mountain from 500m to 1000m, vertically, miserable and sweating profusely, I declared, as I usually do when we take this walk, that this was the last time I was going on this hike, and he would have to find some other favorite trail. Scott agreed that it was a little hot and that maybe we could go to the top on another day. Instead of turning around, we took another path that loops back down towards our house.

When we stopped to take some pictures of this fallen-down shed, we heard some people nearby enjoying the day. Usually we don't see anyone on this trail. I think for obvious reasons. Although once I did see some insane person JOGGING UP the trail. I think he was just showing off however. As we rounded the bend, we noticed there was a family enjoying a Sunday in their Baita (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baita). One of them called out and said, "are you here to steal mushrooms?" I assured him we were just taking a walk and he invited us over for something to drink, which is code for wine, beer or grappa. After hesitating a moment, we decided it would be fun. He had just been kidding about the mushroom stealing jab. We spent the next half hour drinking wine and chatting. They were preparing a big Sunday feast of chicken, lucanica (http://www.deliciousitaly.com/prodotto.php?id=85®ione_id=2), polenta, and most likely crauti, and even invited us to join them. We politely demurred, but had a great time chatting. They were surprised to meet some pasty Americans wandering in the woods. Trentini often ask in a guarded manner what you think of Trentino and the people there, as Trentini have a reputation for being cold and reserved. Scott and I have always found the people here to be very friendly, open and generous, as was proved to us again last Sunday.