Livigno by Vitali Vitaliev
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Livigno, located high in the Retiche Alps, between the valleys of Valtellina and Engadina, is officially part of the Danube Basin economic area, which is hundreds of miles away, and as such enjoys the right of free mooring in the Black Sea ports - although the number of its maritime vessels is "0”!
With its 5000 residents, 105 hotels, 900 B&B apartments, 14 petrol stations (duty-free petrol was one of Livigno’s main trading items) and 33 chair lifts, Livigno had gone through numerous attempts to achieve sovereignty, starting from 1355, where the it was effectively administered by two nominees of the Mayor of Bormio. In the early 17th century, the valley enjoyed a short period of complete independence, when ruled by the Grigioni family, and a hundred years later it was given customs benefits by Napoleon (these were later confirmed by the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1818, by Italy in 1910 and by the EEC in 1960), who effectively made it into what it was now – a duty-free area within Italy.
My first impression of Livigno was that of an amazingly flat and long valley, lined with ski-slopes and dotted with duty-free shops.
Before dropping me at my hotel, Gianluca, my driver, showed me directions to the tourism office and told me that all buses in Livigno were free for skiers. “But, I am not a skier, I am a smoker,” said I gasping from considerable oxygen deficiency, also known as “altitude sickness” or “altitude dizziness”. Gianluca reassured me that buses were free for non-skiers too – a touch of high-altitude Alpine “communism”.
Skiers in their fancy snowsuits were cheerfully falling out of free “communist” buses outside my hotel. Slipping over snowdrifts, I trudged up the street to the first duty-free shop, selling, among other things, vodka and grappa for astounding E2 (two Euros) a litre. And although I had all but given up drinking spirits, I was unable to resist such amazing bargain and bought a litre of grappa to keep me warm.
Across the road, was a duty-free food shop, where I saw what could pass for the world’s largest Mortadella sausage, the size of the leading wheel of a steamroller. Next to the deli, was a Lavateria – “Launderette” (not a lavatory). I wondered whether it was duty-free too.
More duty-free shops, separated by several metres of snow were further up the street, their stock being roughly the same: perfumes, electronics, toiletries, clothes, rather expensive tobacco and extraordinarily cheap alcoholic drinks. Not a single customer (I didn’t count myself as one) was to be found in any of them.
Loud bangs of church bells from a hidden basilica were floating over this snow-covered hub of consumerism. They sounded bizarre and out of place –like Chopin’s funereal march played at a wedding. My poor oxygen-deficient head was tolling in unison with the bells.
Church-bells above duty-free shops… Could there be a scene more Italian?