The Winter Games came to Italy, so the trip started in Milan – based in Brera, a walk from the Duomo, with the days built around the hockey. A bit of the city in between, but nobody was pretending the museums were the point.
Then a car arranged over the Alps to Zermatt. The group split across two hotels, which is worth doing on purpose rather than by accident – part of us up on the hill, part in the middle of town, and both close enough that the day still started together.
Ski guides took us around the mountain, which is the difference between skiing Zermatt and knowing where to be on it. Lunch was the other half of the job. Chez Vrony is the one everybody books. Findlerhof, for my money, is the better of the two.
Dinners in town were the sort you rebook the following year.