San Candido is Italy — if only someone would tell the locals. Even before you arrive, past needle peaks and pine trees, you’ll notice the road signs: “Innichen” defiantly above, “S. Candido” almost a nickname below. Once you reach the centre, the houses are all Alpine shutters, and the villagers cry “Grüss Gott” (God bless) for hello. In the cafés, you can sip on schnapps, or gorge on strudels the size of your fist. Spend long enough here, where Italy nuzzles Austria, and even the cows seem to moo for Mitteleuropa.
