The sun rises late in Cortina d’Ampezzo, like everything else in this little alpine town. It’s gone eight o’clock in the morning by the time the daylight has made it over the high peaks to the east, and it’s another two hours from that before the Olympic day gets under way.
It’s slow out, as if everyone’s still sleeping off the night before, when the town was out cheering for the athletes as they made their parade around the square. The police are still packing away all the railings, and the street sweeps are brushing up the confetti. Non c’è fretta. No one’s in a rush. Maybe your bus will turn up, but no one’s making any promises.
