It was quite cold. Something that one tends not to notice because of the fact that all five of us were decked in several layers of fleece. Plus the not so insignificant detail that we were inside a car. A gently baking car. The expression ‘warm as toast’ would be apt here. Thanks to modern niceties called ‘climate control’ modes.
Feeling a bit adventurous and thinking about my motto in life (Live a little), I flicked the power window switch. The general idea was to sniff the crisp cold air at the rarefied heights of Stelvio Pass (2,757m) - the highest paved mountain road in the eastern Alps. As the window slid down soundlessly, I could feel my face going numb. Startled shuddering yelps emanated from my passengers. The air was crisp and freezing. A quick glance at the temperature indicator revealed that it was more than a couple of degrees below sub zero. But it felt like -20 degrees Celsius or so. Thanks to an icy wind blasting its way over the white-sheeted peaks. Just to add to the atmosphere, it started drizzling a bit too.
It was then the whiff of something utterly delicious wormed its way up the frozen olfactory glands, reminding me of my other motto in life (Eat a lot). In all fairness, it was lunchtime. We trooped out of the car and made our way to the source of the delightful aroma. It was a hot dog stand. A tall man, spare of build, was busy grilling hot dogs, stuffing them in buns and handing them out with a complimentary joke or two.
We ushered the three senior citizens with us inside a restaurant and ordered some fortifying ‘mountain soup’ to start with. My co-traveller and I then dashed outside and started salivating over the grill before us. Perhaps a bit afraid of the fact that he might end up with a batch of hot dogs seasoned with our dribble; the Hot Dog man tapped the grill sharply with his tongs, and beamed at us. That snapped us out of our reverie. Orders were immediately placed. With deft movements that would have made a magician proud, he picked up a bun, smothered it with mustard, layered a carpet of cabbage, plucked out a still smoking hot dog and laid it down gently on the bed of cabbage. It was a lesson in performance art.
The next few minutes were a blur. My jaws champed rhythmically. I was mindful of something absolute delicious making my taste buds shed tears of joy. Everything was forgotten for a few blissful moments. And what about the cold, the observant amongst you might be thinking. Well, let’s just say when the heart is warm, nothing else matters.
