Day 36. Wed 5th May.
Ah the dawn chorus isn’t it amazing how many birdcalls sound like an unanswered telephone.
The early morning mist on the hillsides was actually rising from our sodden abode and us.
The mud wrestling had taken its toll but al least we had a good night, in spite of the mud preventing us from levelling the wang and clinging on for dear life all night
A decision was made and we headed off for Pisa. An hour and a half away and an easy train ride into Florence, we weren’t giving up yet.
Our camping book described the site as flat and though the whole journey was in torrential rain we lived in hope of a dry landing.
It was dryish, at least the bit we set up on plus it was blissfully flat. Nothing like a night clinging onto the edge of the bed so you don’t roll out, to make you appreciate such luxurious comforts.
Had a snack in the site café, served by our second nominee for “Glum Italy 2010”, as her only customers we were clearly delaying her headlong rush into a permanently vegetative state.Discovered podcasts and caught up with the Archers. Early night
Rob and Andy have been living and making together since 1990. We love all things art and design, travel, music, cinema, the joys of eco renovating a mid century house & garden and our beloved hound Molly.
Monday, 10 May 2010
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
Day 35
Day 35. Tuesday 4th May.
Rained all through the night and all the next morning. Try walking back from the morning shower, struggling to keep your wet hair dry, in the pouring rain. The rain looks set for the day so we hitch up and set off. Bidding a sad farewell to the lively Dutch family we have befriended.
Rained all the way up into the mountains, not so much a winding road as taking a line for a walk. And this is the autostrada so enormous bloody lorries thundering by on hairpin bends in sheeting water.
Only a 3-hour jaunt to the site in Firenze. With a narrow little entrance and steep climb up a hill. A leafy green site, which by the time we arrive, has become a mud bath. Choosing our pitch with great care and all the skill our growing experience can muster. In no time at all we are up to our axels in mud. The wang, the car and us. It needed a tractor to pull us out and all the time, rain, rain, rain.
Madam is in her element, running around madly with mud dripping off her furry backside. The inside of our tastefully biscuit wang is a total horror story. Now the colours of army camouflage, just a packet of seeds and we have a hydroponics farm.
Set off to investigate the other two sites in the city and they are just as bad.
Eat in the deserted campsite restaurant, not bad food but molly created an action painting on the tiled floor in mud.
Our waiter (leading candidate for our“Mr Italian Glum 2010” award) was not amused.
Settled into our filthy bed (another action painting from the prolific Miss Molly) and decided to give Florence a miss.
Its going to rain for the next two weeks and the simple truth is camping anywhere in the rain is bloody horrible.
“Hi Di Hi campers.”
Rained all through the night and all the next morning. Try walking back from the morning shower, struggling to keep your wet hair dry, in the pouring rain. The rain looks set for the day so we hitch up and set off. Bidding a sad farewell to the lively Dutch family we have befriended.
Rained all the way up into the mountains, not so much a winding road as taking a line for a walk. And this is the autostrada so enormous bloody lorries thundering by on hairpin bends in sheeting water.
Only a 3-hour jaunt to the site in Firenze. With a narrow little entrance and steep climb up a hill. A leafy green site, which by the time we arrive, has become a mud bath. Choosing our pitch with great care and all the skill our growing experience can muster. In no time at all we are up to our axels in mud. The wang, the car and us. It needed a tractor to pull us out and all the time, rain, rain, rain.
Madam is in her element, running around madly with mud dripping off her furry backside. The inside of our tastefully biscuit wang is a total horror story. Now the colours of army camouflage, just a packet of seeds and we have a hydroponics farm.
Set off to investigate the other two sites in the city and they are just as bad.
Eat in the deserted campsite restaurant, not bad food but molly created an action painting on the tiled floor in mud.
Our waiter (leading candidate for our“Mr Italian Glum 2010” award) was not amused.
Settled into our filthy bed (another action painting from the prolific Miss Molly) and decided to give Florence a miss.
Its going to rain for the next two weeks and the simple truth is camping anywhere in the rain is bloody horrible.
“Hi Di Hi campers.”
Day 34
Day 34. Monday 3rd May.
Joy oh joy; the rain washed away all the noisome bothersome week enders and our sylvan glade is restored.
After a blissfully peaceful night we promptly left for a visit to Sirmione, a striking village at the head of a peninsular jutting out into the lake.
Pretty place with a 13thc turreted castle completely surrounded by water and only one way into the old town, over a former drawer bridge. Full of thermal springs and heath spas, it really smells terrible in places. Headed right to the end of the peninsular for the ruins of a roman villa and of course it’s closed on Mondays. Still it’s a pretty walk and our hairy monster has a whale of a time.
With the sun shining the place has filled to bursting by the time we head out and back to camp.
Florence and the gardens of Tuscany are beckoning so we start the process of packing up to head off on the morrow.
Had a mixed time in Lake Garda and didn’t do half the things we meant too, but it’s a beautiful base for a holiday and we hope to return.
Joy oh joy; the rain washed away all the noisome bothersome week enders and our sylvan glade is restored.
After a blissfully peaceful night we promptly left for a visit to Sirmione, a striking village at the head of a peninsular jutting out into the lake.
Pretty place with a 13thc turreted castle completely surrounded by water and only one way into the old town, over a former drawer bridge. Full of thermal springs and heath spas, it really smells terrible in places. Headed right to the end of the peninsular for the ruins of a roman villa and of course it’s closed on Mondays. Still it’s a pretty walk and our hairy monster has a whale of a time.
With the sun shining the place has filled to bursting by the time we head out and back to camp.
Florence and the gardens of Tuscany are beckoning so we start the process of packing up to head off on the morrow.
Had a mixed time in Lake Garda and didn’t do half the things we meant too, but it’s a beautiful base for a holiday and we hope to return.
Day 32
Day 32; Saturday 1st May.
Our charming assistant in Cartier had warned us half of Italy heads to Lake Garda for the May bank holiday and sure enough on returning to our leafy glade, It had turned into Butlins. Noisome, lively and very international, we realised the biggest drawbacks of camping are the total lack of sound insulation and privacy.
Hot and sunny. Took a desultory walk along the lake with Molls and all the other tourists. At least Molls had a great time, enthusiastic swimming (her more or less permanent mode) and wildlife bothering. Had the worst lunch of our visit and were thoroughly dreary all day
Our charming assistant in Cartier had warned us half of Italy heads to Lake Garda for the May bank holiday and sure enough on returning to our leafy glade, It had turned into Butlins. Noisome, lively and very international, we realised the biggest drawbacks of camping are the total lack of sound insulation and privacy.
Hot and sunny. Took a desultory walk along the lake with Molls and all the other tourists. At least Molls had a great time, enthusiastic swimming (her more or less permanent mode) and wildlife bothering. Had the worst lunch of our visit and were thoroughly dreary all day
Day 33
Day 33. Sunday 2nd May.
Sullen and resentful we fled to Verona for the day.
The Giardino Giusti is a verdant haven in the middle of the city.
Winding up the hill, we climb a spiral stone staircase to the belvedere. Emerging at 10.30 am as the bells of Verona, laid out below us, rang out. The stand of flowering Circis ( Judas Trees) showered us with cerise petals, what a moment.
Lunch at a typical Verona trattoria (recommended by the gardiner) was the best we’ve had since arriving in Italy.
The house speciality is horse, which we didn’t try.
Walked through Verona as the storm clouds gathered. Took a turn around the Roman Amphitheatre. Home of the famous Verona opera festival, Alicia Keys (I have no idea) was appearing that night. Took a quick peek at the famous Juliet balcony (so bogus) and dashed back to car as the heavens opened.
Even it Italy it rains at the Bank Holidays.
Sullen and resentful we fled to Verona for the day.
The Giardino Giusti is a verdant haven in the middle of the city.
Winding up the hill, we climb a spiral stone staircase to the belvedere. Emerging at 10.30 am as the bells of Verona, laid out below us, rang out. The stand of flowering Circis ( Judas Trees) showered us with cerise petals, what a moment.
Lunch at a typical Verona trattoria (recommended by the gardiner) was the best we’ve had since arriving in Italy.
The house speciality is horse, which we didn’t try.
Walked through Verona as the storm clouds gathered. Took a turn around the Roman Amphitheatre. Home of the famous Verona opera festival, Alicia Keys (I have no idea) was appearing that night. Took a quick peek at the famous Juliet balcony (so bogus) and dashed back to car as the heavens opened.
Even it Italy it rains at the Bank Holidays.
Equilibrium full restored
Day31
Day 31; Friday 30thth April.
In need of action and adventure were on a mid morning train into Milano. Train travel is cheap in Italy and it’s just not worth the hassle of driving and parking in the big cities.
Now Italian ladies like to travel in style on the train. Curled up in the one seat they have paid for with a book or magazine. The seat beside them is taken up with the handbag, the one opposite with the coat and the one beside that with the shopping bags. The four seats opposite the aisle have the suitcases shoved in so at eight seats per person the trains fill up very quickly and they are happily oblivious to anyone having to stand for the journey.
The Stazione Centrale is truly monumental, gleaming white and built on the orders of Mussolini. A stunner and when we’ve finished gawping realised we were up to our necks in a throng of humanity.
I so needed a city. We take the metro. Like me, its easy and cheap (Andy is still Sir Limpsalot) and we head for Cartier to get my blessed battery replace.
A buzzer admits us to the shop where the charming lady behind the counter greets us like old friends.
The replacement will take a few minutes so were served hot coffee and chilled water while we discuss all the places she thinks we should see in Italy. 30 minuets later and we want to take her with us and I think she would have come. But when discussing our travels to date, (the mountains, Venice, the Lakes) we failed to mention we were in a caravan so she clearly had the impression we were international playboys. Declined any sort of payment for the repair (in Bond street they charge £80 for a new battery) we were sent on our way, delighted and refreshed.
Is this what its like for rich people all the time?
A divine plate of late lunch (and cheap) in a café round the corner and were off to the Duomo where nothing quite prepares you for the scale of the place, its incredibly elaborate and HUGHE.
Unfortunately manned by guards shooing away perfectly respectable girls with bare shoulders and short skirts.
Do they honestly think an omnipotent deity is going to be remotely offended by what people are wearing or are their brains as small as their *****?
In need of action and adventure were on a mid morning train into Milano. Train travel is cheap in Italy and it’s just not worth the hassle of driving and parking in the big cities.
Now Italian ladies like to travel in style on the train. Curled up in the one seat they have paid for with a book or magazine. The seat beside them is taken up with the handbag, the one opposite with the coat and the one beside that with the shopping bags. The four seats opposite the aisle have the suitcases shoved in so at eight seats per person the trains fill up very quickly and they are happily oblivious to anyone having to stand for the journey.
The Stazione Centrale is truly monumental, gleaming white and built on the orders of Mussolini. A stunner and when we’ve finished gawping realised we were up to our necks in a throng of humanity.
I so needed a city. We take the metro. Like me, its easy and cheap (Andy is still Sir Limpsalot) and we head for Cartier to get my blessed battery replace.
A buzzer admits us to the shop where the charming lady behind the counter greets us like old friends.
The replacement will take a few minutes so were served hot coffee and chilled water while we discuss all the places she thinks we should see in Italy. 30 minuets later and we want to take her with us and I think she would have come. But when discussing our travels to date, (the mountains, Venice, the Lakes) we failed to mention we were in a caravan so she clearly had the impression we were international playboys. Declined any sort of payment for the repair (in Bond street they charge £80 for a new battery) we were sent on our way, delighted and refreshed.
Is this what its like for rich people all the time?
A divine plate of late lunch (and cheap) in a café round the corner and were off to the Duomo where nothing quite prepares you for the scale of the place, its incredibly elaborate and HUGHE.
Unfortunately manned by guards shooing away perfectly respectable girls with bare shoulders and short skirts.
Do they honestly think an omnipotent deity is going to be remotely offended by what people are wearing or are their brains as small as their *****?
Across from the Duomo is the 
Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, surely the most elegant shopping arcade in the world.
In Prada(beautifull shop) its full on fifties, patterns, summer frocks and everything, available from any vintage shop a fraction of the price.
Flying Visit to La Scala, no tickets for Lulu (the opera) that night and a rather austere façade.
Train home, Job Done, Great Day.
Day 30
Day 30; Thursday 29th April.
Running short of supplies and with half an eye out for a supermarket, a tour along the Lakeshore brings us to the small town of Garda. A delightfully situated harbour backed by soaring mountains and lined with restaurants and Hotels.
Stop for lunch and soak up the atmosphere.
Then wander along and re couperate from lunch with an ice cream and coffee (Italian coffee is devine) at another establishment.
With Andys injury we are still experiencing life at a limps pace, the same as most of the old dears strolling along.
OK, all very pretty and that, but I have to say meandering is not all its cracked up to be. I am bored out of my brain.
A whole day and I’ve achieved nothing to justify my existence on this planet. Perhaps I need to fine tune my relaxation vibe or wake up to the realization; I’m just not one of life’s idlers. There’s no pleasing some folk.
Running short of supplies and with half an eye out for a supermarket, a tour along the Lakeshore brings us to the small town of Garda. A delightfully situated harbour backed by soaring mountains and lined with restaurants and Hotels.
Stop for lunch and soak up the atmosphere.
Then wander along and re couperate from lunch with an ice cream and coffee (Italian coffee is devine) at another establishment.
With Andys injury we are still experiencing life at a limps pace, the same as most of the old dears strolling along.
OK, all very pretty and that, but I have to say meandering is not all its cracked up to be. I am bored out of my brain.
A whole day and I’ve achieved nothing to justify my existence on this planet. Perhaps I need to fine tune my relaxation vibe or wake up to the realization; I’m just not one of life’s idlers. There’s no pleasing some folk.
Not A Happy Face.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)