Day 17

Day 17, Friday 16th April.

A bit zonked by cultural overkill, had a lay in till 8am.
A day of blissful domesticity. Catching up with our dirty sheets and hand washing. Still not quite used to seeing adults, wandering around outside, in their dressing gowns and slippers. Standing at a row of sinks washing your drawers in full view of strangers. Talk about washing your dirty linen in public.
We are loving catching up with the blogs comments every day, immense fun and keep us feeling connected.
Found a park and beach you can take the dog too. Even the local’s don’t know about it.
I’m sorry Gaza but Molly has found a new love, the scary German neighbours dog Nox.
I think its because he looks a bit like you. Though taller, darker and more German.
You must understand she is now a world citizen and free to follow international liaisons as her heart wills. You were never entirely exclusive; least said about Sewer the better.

Day 16

Day 16, Thursday 15th April

Up with the larks, do they have larks in Italy, its bound to be a delicacy somewhere?
Drove to the local port for the commuter ferry into Venice.
We have such high expectations of this legendary city and it fulfils them all.
A panorama of every famous landmark, stretches out along our horizon, literally, floating before you as you arrive in the lagoon,
Fist stop, the Cartier shop off the Piazza San Marco, where else darlings. Not for shopping, unfortunately, just to replace my watch battery, which they couldn’t do as it takes two weeks.
Next stop the Basilica. What a trip, heart poundingly, breath takingly, eye wateringly, stunning. We were absolutely blown away. Never mind the glittering domes, the floor to ceiling gold mosaics, the hundreds of saphires, emeralds, garnets, rubies and thousands of pearls, even the floors are intricately worked in multicoloured marble mosaics, pattern on writhing pattern. Most of it plundered on a grand scale.
This is just the most gorgeous building on earth, though the space is ultimately incomprehensible and the most surreal trip, ever.
Phew, onto the Palazzo Ducale just round the corner. A strange combination, the outside is very light, refined and stylish, same with the inner courtyard, beautiful, the interior is room after room of gloomy gothic overkill. Heavily carved and gilded ceilings, monumental rooms almost the size of football pitches stuffed with Venetian power painting, impossible to appreciate as they’re so monumental or on ceilings or just too far away. You are left feeling somewhat overawed and overcast yourself.
Not my cuppa at all.
Lunch was at a sweet little trattoria just west of St Marks Square, delish and at just under 60 euros not bad for the most expensive city in Italy.
On to a small church, Santa Maria Formosa, to see a couple of paintings where we were horrified by the mummified remains of a child, or a very small person, in a glass case on a alter. Surrounded by slobbering devotees pressing postcards against is, kissing them and falling to the knees, up and down more than a whores drawers. Clutching at rosaries and fervently crossing themselves. Shocking to witness the power of mumbo jumbo in this day and age.
A relaxing boat trip around the lagoon and down the Grand Canal (we just needed to sit awhile).Home to a nice cup of coco and the best nights sleep for ages.

Day 15, Wednesday 14th April.

Exhausted from all our previous efforts and maybe the booze, we had a day off from our adventure.
As I always say having fun is much harder work than work.
Molly has deigned to notice a very scary looking dog next door. Looks like a huge wolfhound but with short fur.
She introduced herself by walking up to where he was sitting, squatting down and peeing in front of him.
Ever the refined lady. Can’t imagine where she gets it from.
Checked out the local port and Andy couldn’t resist the seafood special at a local restaurant.
Spaghetti Vongole (with garlic, chilli and clams).
Followed by Squid in ink sauce with polenta. Tasted delish but looked like hell on a plate.
Thought immediately of my sister Alli who is very squeamish, she would have heaved on the spot.
Planning our first visit to Venice tomorrow, by boat!

Day 14, Tuesday 13th April.
Fine looking site with good sized, grassy pitches, yards from the beach, under shady pine trees. Dogs are not allowed on the beaches, even though they are all but deserted. Dire warnings of the consequences are posted in several languages at every entry.
We travel down the coast and find a bit of scrub where we can walk Molly. As there is no one for miles take the chance and she has a great swim.
Second attempt at the awning was much more successful than the first and yes, it is easy if you know what your doing.
Decide to stay here a couple of weeks as apart from Venice, which is going to take a couple of visits, were also in striking distance of Verona, Vicenza and Padua plus a couple of famous gardens to peruse.
Lots of giant supermarkets and we seem to do well enough asking for stuff and ordering in restaurants (thanks to Giovanna our endlessly patient Italian teacher) no one is more amazed than us when they understand what we are asking for and even more amazed when we understand their replies (mostly).
We have wifi (rapture) and catch up with our lack of communications home.
Great dinner back at the camp of prociutto crudo, the ripest local tomatoes, Insalata Capricciosa and our last bottle of Champaign.
Will have to start investigating the local fizz.

Day 13 Monday 12th April.

We were going to have a day off and relax, but as usual dawn got the better of us, as we were up so early we decided to break camp and head for our next destination. Venice.
Our friend Bernie (who lives in La Villa) recommended the Passo Campolongo at 1875m as the best pass out of the mountains.
She didn’t say it would be the first of three high passes on roads twistier than an arthritic snake. It took us three hours to travel 30 miles. Its fantastically awe inspiring for the first hour, “Ok, enough already”, for the second hour and “not another snow bound, sheer bloody drop” for the third.
When we did hit the plains of Venito everything went unnaturally flat. Not a bump in sight and mile upon mile of cultivated vines, much softer, warmer air and lovely sunshine
Somehow contrived to make a dramatic entrance to the campsite. Tried to get in by the back gates, which were firmly locked so had to reverse the wang around a sharp right-angled bend onto a single-track road.
As they say in Italiano, “IMPOSSIBILE.” Everything goes opposite to how you think it should so we eventually unhitched. Moved the wang by hand and hitched it up again for the last 20 meters.
The mistake was letting Andy drive for the fist time that day. On entering the site he managed to prang the wang and demolish a prettily planted flowerbed at the entrance.
The sound was stomach churning; imagine Titanic being ripped apart by an iceberg.
We both hid our faces in our hands and looked up to find a crowd of shocked campers with their mouths covered and all pointing at US. We crawled, red faced from the car exclaiming,” Buon giorno, Mi dispiace, sono inglesie”. “Hello, I’m sorry were English” They all seemed to understand and immediately lost interest. Swarms of camp workers had the wall back in no time and they still let us on the site.

Day 12, Sunday 11th April.

Relentlessly stunning weather, this is the most beautiful campsite, nestling in pine trees surrounded by the stunning Dolomite mountains. Imagine camping in Narnia and you have it, but how could we tarry?
Started the day with a couple of red runs from Piz la Ila. All but deserted and very crunchy underfoot we both found them demanding and a little tiring.
Lip smacking mountain lunch at our favourite hutte, La Punta Trieste (the three owls). The best spare ribs and chips on the mountain, followed by tiramisu. Feeling fully revived the afternoon snow was like skiing in ermine and we had the most excellent couple of runs of our whole lives. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Back down the mountain to the car and on the very last steep bit of piste I totally misjudged a trickle of water across the bottom of the slope. It turned our to be a bloody crevasse.
Travelling at speed to make it up the other side, the skis came to an abrupt stop and I kept on going. Flying through the air, Arms spread wide and landed splat on my face in the shape of a perfect crucifix.
I just lay there wondering how on earth I managed to end up face fist in the snow, unable to breathe, winded but at least the snow was soft by then. Decided to call it a day and limped back to car. Battered, bruised but totally, blissfully, chuffed.

Day 11 Saturday 10th April.

Another gorgeous day and we are on the slopes by 8.30am.
Decided to try a couple of the harder red runs so headed over to the Danterceppies slopes, a couple of long reds and even a black.
Donkey boy, yours truly, airily dismissed Andy’s warnings to watch out for the black slope on the far right. Delighted with how my technique was coming on, I set off down the right hand slope with gay abandon.
Very steep and narrow, I was soon filling my pants and sure as eggs is eggs fell flat on my face. But only once and felt a great sense of achievement reaching the bottom in one piece. It certainly made the rest of the red runs seem lot less scary and you have to stretch yourself now and again, don’t you?