Far from the Venetian Crowd

I HAVE HAD THE fortune, which at the time I thought was a curse, of growing up in a green valley inching its way to walls of limestone as high as 2,200 meters. When I was 16, I ran away from that town in the north of Italy heading to warmer tropical climates. But, ever since, I’ve kept returning, year after year, as I long for something there, while rediscovering what those valleys and mountains have to offer to the traveller looking for an experience off the most obvious maps. Let’s see if I’m able to explain what that something is.

Valdagno is at the beginning of an ideal itinerary through a secret Veneto region which can take you, in a total of a two-and-a-half hour drive, to the Asiago plateau, famous for the homonymous cheese; down to Marostica where chess players dress as kings, queens, bishops and rooks playing a life-size match in the town’s checkered square; into Bassano del Grappa, now popular thanks to a Korean reality show, but also the background of some of Ernest Hemingway’s novels, as you reach the border of the rolling hills of Asolo, next door to the Prosecco-land of Valdobbiadene; to then return to the Valley of the Agno creek, and discover the Emerald Bowl of thermal water resort Recoaro, where Friedrich Nietzsche found inspiration for his most famous philosophical treatise.

Let’s begin in my town. As a child I would love to meander round Vald­agno’s Corso Italia, the hub of social life constellated by cafés where, at weekly markets, you can taste the fritola con la maresina, a fried cake with a local herb. Another local delicacy is gnocchi con la fioréta, a dumpling made with fresh cheese. Follow the Corso to Piazza Roma, home to one of the world’s most prized gelatos (I’m partial to the hazelnut flavour), and nearby Carlotto liquor store, serving the trademark bianco rosso drink, reminiscent of Campari, and the pink-shaded rosolio which Pinocchio also drank.

To walk off all this glucose, stroll to the bridge overlooking the first Olympic-sized outdoor pool in Veneto, its three-stage trampoline jutting into the sky. From there, you will reach La Favorita park and enter the Città Sociale, or ‘City of Harmony’—a unique neighbour­hood studied by architecture students nationwide. Built between 1927 and 1937 by industrial tycoon Gaetano Marzotto, whose family established the region’s textile industry in 1836, this district was designed by star architects like Giò Ponti and Francesco Bonfanti, blending liberty style with modernist rationality. In this City of Harmony, I watched classic Italian cinema at the Rivoli Theatre, took swim­ming lessons at the indoor pool with its impressive, rounded façade, and observed retired textile workers playing bocce. The district housed my schools, sports facili­ties from horse-riding to judo, shops, and even a retirement home known for its successfully ageing residents. Marzotto’s vision included a music academy with a magnificent small theatre, a football stadium, and well-kept tennis courts— offering employees every amenity to keep them in Valdagno. And it worked. Mostly. From here, cross the bridge past the imposing Marzotto factory and hike up to Poggio Miravalle, a terrace offering panoramic views of the town and sur­rounding mountains.

From Valdagno the drive up to Asiago takes about 50 minutes but get ready for the curvy road of the Costo rising up to about 1,000 meters above sea level. Asiago is famous for cross-country skiing in winter and quaint, relaxing hikes in summer among a rich fauna of rare birds like the Gallo cedrone or capercaillie which the Asiago writer Mario Rigoni Stern describes in his naturalist novels. As you can notice from the writer’s last name, people from this area are not very Italian sounding or Italian looking, as you will spot a lot of blond, light brown and red heads and green and blue eyes. This is because between Valdagno and Asiago, all around the foothills, is the land of the cimbri or Tzimbar (which comes from ‘timber’), an ancient group of German woodcutters who migrated in different waves over the centuries and settled up here, safely high up above the sea. Thanks to the specific location of Asiago, the cim­bri (pronounced cheem-bree) were able to remain isolated for centuries, although eventually decimated by Napoleon’s army wanting to overtax them. But a few hundred full-blooded cimbri, mostly around the town of Roana, still maintain their German customs, clothes and traditions and speak Taucias or Deutsch, which is how Germans define their own language, although the cimbri version is influenced by having lived in a Veneto-speaking context for centuries.

My family actually hails from these mountains and ethnic background. In fact, as you drive from Roana towards Fontanelle you can run into the hamlet of Pizzati, my last name, which is where my ancestors descended from in the late 1700s, to open their businesses down in the plains. Pizzati is a group of few, well-maintained country houses, with an ancient well surrounded by a healthy for­est still sprouting the same timber which built Venice, the legendary city you can spot in the distance. An intricate system of river transport carried logs all the way to the lagoon, where carpenters not only built the commercial and military navy fleet of the Most Serene Republic of Venice which dominated the Mediterranean, but they also hammered Asiago trees into the sands, so that majestic palaces, quaint bridges and beautiful homes on the canals could be built over the centuries. After tasting the local Asiago cheese, freshly made or seasoned, it’s time to head back down the mountain.

If you drive down the plateau in the direction of Venice, you will notice, from high up, the remarkable medieval town of Marostica. The view from above al­lows you to catch not only the defensive wall which follows the contours of the mountain but also the giant checkered chess board in the centre of the square of Marostica. How come every year people dress in medieval costumes to re-enact a giant chess game on Piazza Castello? Well, around these parts—we are not far from Romeo and Juliet’s Montague and Capulet castle, after all—it’s always a battle for love.

IN 1454, TWO noblemen— Vieri da Vallonara and Rinaldo d’Angarano—fell madly in love with Lionora, the beautiful daughter of the Venetian governor, Taddeo Parisio. Both determined to win her hand, they pre­pared to face each other in a deadly duel. However, the Most Serene Republic’s governor, unwilling to see blood spilled over his daughter, decreed instead that a grand public chess match was to be played in the town square, using living pieces. With the armed forces of the castle marching in solemn parade, and in the presence of the townspeople and dignitaries from allied cities, the most extraordinary chivalric challenge ever witnessed on Venetian soil unfolded. And still unfolds yearly.

In a festive ceremony, the winner is still granted the hand of Lionora. The loser, far from dishonoured, is given in marriage to Oldrada, the governor’s younger sister, now interpreted by an actress. So everyone is happy, in a blaze of fireworks, music, and dancing—an un­forgettable celebration of love, honour, and tradition. For the few who book it on time, the game can be watched from the balconies of the Panic Jazz Club, a venue that in the last few decades has brought here the best jazz musicians in the world.

Marostica is only a 15-minute drive from Bassano del Grappa which did not take the name from the famous liquor but rather from the Grappa mountain where some of the most violent battles of World War I were fought. This is why in the years between 1915 and 1918 the International Red Cross set up a major hospital here to cure war wounds. The most famous ambulance driver of that hospital was a young, handsome American called Ernest Hemingway who loved these parts so much he wrote about them in A Farewell to Arms but more specifically in Across the River and into the Trees. This is why you will find not only a Hemingway Café in Bassano but also a Hemingway museum with many relics from the global war fought here. Next door you can visit the factory making by hand my favourite fountain pens, Montegrappa. As Heming­way wrote to his sister about his days in Bassano, once back in America: “Some­times I think we only half live over here. The Italians live all the way.” The macho American author did enjoy—perhaps too much for his own good—the Valpolicella Ripasso wine made in the region even more than the grappa.

The town today is a markedly more vibrant town than the capital city of the province, Vicenza, a gem in and of its own. Bassano has a younger population, cooler shops, and is often frequented by the creative types of Diesel, the interna­tional fashion brand born here. But Bas­sano has also seen a high influx of South Korean tourism thanks to an episode, a few years ago, of a hit Korean reality show called Where Is My Friend’s Home?

The show followed a group of foreigners who settled in South Korea. The Italian Alberto Mondi returned to Bassano where his father once ran a bar. The episode became a heartfelt travelogue, with scenes of Mondi and his family crossing the iconic Ponte degli Alpini, discussing local history—including the Great War—and sharing traditions like singing ‘Sul ponte di Bassano’, which is all about holding hands and kissing, of course. The show highlighted local products like asparagus and grappa. Immediately, many viewers were now requesting trips to this corner of Veneto instead of traditional Italian hotspots like Rome and Florence.

There is a brand new, fast highway which can bring you back to Valdagno in less than 40 minutes and from there it’s just a 15-minute drive up the verdant valley to Recoaro Terme, my mother’s hometown, nicknamed the Emerald Bowl because of the green forests and meadows mixed with the geological formation of what millen­nia ago was a large lake, and today is a quaint town of a few thousand souls. It was a renowned thermal station since the 1800s which brought here kings, queens and aristocracy from many parts of Europe. And it has delicious pastry at the Pasticceria da Bruno where you can try the celebrated almond zampino or, my favourite, the tasty veneziana.

The most famous guest was Friedrich Nietzsche who loved to hike around the hills and imposing mountains crowning this small town. In the spring of 1881, while getting healthy with the ‘water cure’ which helps you strengthen your bowels, the German philosopher wrote: “Recoaro’s landscape is one of my most beautiful experiences.” And it is impres­sive with the high peaks of the Little Dolomites reaching up to above 2,000 me­tres. If you are so inclined, there are hikes and treks of all different levels, but these trails are also becoming popular with mountain bikers and are famous spots among para-sailors who take advantage of the currents rising up into the cloud to fly around the peaks to take in the bird’s eye view of this itinerary which covers the land of the cimbri, to the north of Vicenza on the border of the region of Trentino.

As the sun sets behind those Little Dolomites, painting the limestone walls in hues of amber and rose on a clear day, I’m reminded why I keep returning to this hidden corner of Veneto. This isn’t just a landscape of exceptional beauty or a collection of charming towns with fascinating histories—it’s a place where cultures have blended for centu­ries, where philosophers found inspiration, where literary giants discovered the fullness of Veneto life, and where my own roots run deep into the alpine soil. That ‘something’ I have been seeking in my returns is perhaps the rare authen­ticity that still thrives here. In a world increasingly homogenised by global tourism, this secret Veneto preserves a distinct rhythm of life, where ancient tradi­tions continue alongside modern innovations, where the local languages of the Veneto and of the Tzimbar folk still carry echoes of medieval German and the ancient history of Veneto, where the pride of craftsman­ship—from cheese-making to textiles— remains undiminished.

For travellers willing to venture be­yond Venice’s canals and Verona’s roman­tic balconies, these valleys and mountains offer not just an escape from crowds but an invitation to discover Veneto as it truly lives—all the way, as Hemingway would say. And perhaps, like me, you will find yourself drawn back year after year, each time uncovering new layers of the secret that these ancient hills and peaks have shielded so well.

Asiago cheeseHemingwayNorth ItalianTravel Issue 2025Venetian