My husband and I argued all the way from the hotel’s reception to our room where our heated discussion was only momentarily halted when we glimpsed the view from the balcony. A magnificent peak punctuated with green pine trees towered in front of us, its peak blanketed in white snow like ice cream melting over a pudding.

“We’re in Italy,” I insisted, determined to prove that although we’d flown to Innsbruck, we had in fact slipped across the border unnoticed and left Austrian soil over an hour ago. Our argument had not gone unnoticed by the hotel’s staff, but the Austrians I pointed out were too polite to intervene (at which point my husband threw his hands in the air and gestured like a frenzied Italian).

By the looks on their faces, I think the staff were relieved that their remote resort Olang-Valdaora rarely gets visited by British tourists and it wasn’t until the next day that the owner’s son politely confirmed my suspicions that no one - including the region’s residents or visitors - know whether they are in Austria or Italy.

Until 1918 the South Tyrol was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire when it was annexed by the Italians during the First World War. Although the German-speaking majority fought for reunification with Austria after the Second World War, (resulting in a terrorist campaign from 1956 to 1988), they were successful in getting extensive autonomy. Residents declare their language preference by census, most schools teach in German and signposts are in both Italian and German. Indeed, most residents see themselves as neither Austrian, German or Italian, but simply South Tyroleans who speak the German language as Italian citizens.

Despite the confusion over whether to say “danke schon” or “grazie”, one thing my husband and I agreed on was that the South Tyrol definitely seemed to have the best of both countries – fabulous food and wine from Italy and the extremely efficient service Austria is famed for.

Location aside, we hadn’t come here to argue. Indeed, we had come here so that we wouldn’t argue. My husband, you see, is as hooked on skiing as I am on horse riding and, although we dabble in each others sports, no one will commit totally to the others.

The Post Hotel in Olang therefore appeared to be the perfect solution –this four-star hotel boasts a private riding centre with 25 horses and the ski resort of Kronplatz, part of the Dolomite Superski area, is only five minutes away by skibus. What’s more, I pointed out, Kronplatz proved to have snow even when many parts of Austria didn’t.

At 2275 metres high, it may not be a big enough mountain to keep expert skiers occupied for days on end, but what it does have is around 100km of pistes including a two-kilometre black run with a 500m drop and the odd slalom course for those who like to go like the clappers.

We’d decided to ski during the morning when the snow was at its best and soon discovered some great advantages about skiing in a little-known resort mostly frequented by Italians, rarely by Brits. The food and coffee in the mountain restaurants is as delicious as it is cheap and the slopes are gloriously groomed. Admittedly, there were some bad points – there was the odd mountain bar blaring Euro trash music and the idea of queuing is virtually obsolete – being elbowed out the way by an entire Italian family can be slightly frustrating – particularly when you let the grannie go first and the whole entourage follows...

But on the whole there were no arguments – not even when my husband mistakenly (on purpose) led me down a black run groomed for slalom racers with restricted access only. Every day, after three hours on the slopes we’d leisurely head back down to the hotel, tuck into a delicious afternoon tea and then throw on our jodhpurs for the next round of thigh-burning, back breaking activity – horse riding.

The South Tyrol is famous for its haflingers, stunning, sturdy ponies with light brown coats, bleached blonde manes and a penchant for galloping fast in thick snow. Established by crossing the native Tyrolean pony with Arab blood brought back from the Continental Wars with the Turks the result was a combination of native hardiness with elegant spirit.

However, before we could head off into the mountains, first we had to convince the owners we could ride and we were put through the paces by Angelica, the local riding instructor, in the hotel’s indoor school. As a horse owner I was fairly confident I’d pass and was secretly looking forward to a reversal in fortunes. Who was going to be telling who how to traverse the mountain now, I thought gleefully.

But to my surprise, my husband overcame his dismay at having to ride a pony (he wanted one of the big burly horses he’d often seen perform at Hickstead) and realised that these tiny tots were actually pretty fun and rather fast too. After a few lessons my non-riding novice husband had smugly mastered the walk, trot and canter and was galloping in front of me his pony’s hooves kicking up lumps of snow into my face.

Every day, after a couple of hours in the saddle, we’d head back to the rather Austrian (naked) sauna and now and then splash out on a treatment in the spa. Hay isn’t just for the horses here and is used in one of the local treatments where you’re immersed in a bath of the hot, sweet smelling stuff. As the steam enveloped us it occurred to me that we hadn’t argued since we’d arrived. Whether we’d been in the saddle, on the skis, in Austria or Italy, the resort had proved it had all the ingredients to keep us both happy.

NEED TO KNOW

Sam Lewis traveled with The Riding Company. Ski and ride holidays at The Post Hotel in Italy cost from £521pp for four nights on half-board basis with two hours per day riding and a three-day ski pass, plus free use of the hotel’s sauna and spa area (treatments extra).

For more details on the South Tyrol see www.suedtirol.info

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