In total 3453 miles, 14 overnight resting places*, a couple of shunts and an unscheduled 3 hour pitstop in Pavia for new brake disks.
Along the way we've had plenty of opportunity to tuck into weird and wonderful foodstuffs of the like we'd never try at home...such as Nutella!
We've tested and collected an eclectic assortment of bottled liquids ranging from the grand vins of Burgundy to an unlabled home-made rosso we bought from a peasant farmer on the Sorrento peninsula. In shops at least the beer is remarkably cheap in Italy, 45c, and a two litre bottle of mineral water costs just 16c. We've also stocked up with several years' supply of balsamic vinegar (from a supermarket between Modena and Reggio).
We'd only been in the country for 30 minutes when we came across our first bustling murder scene (in Andora). It was hard to piece together the precise chain of events from the visible evidence not obscured by the throng of absurdly overdressed reporters - a smashed first floor window, a taped up car with a dented front wing and forensic teams in white full-body suits coming in and out of a boarded up Ristorante - but a tally of more than one stiff seemed likely. (I shall use the Net to investigate further.)
The Belgians may drive faster, but the lack of any basic highway etiquette makes sharing Italian roads with the natives a particularly challenging experience. You can't keep your distance, because if you leave any space in front of you the guy behind will immediately assume it belongs to him. Our biggest bump occurred in rolling rush hour traffic in Milan when a car came straight into us from the rear, prompting V to jolt forward into the one in front which in turn passed the disfavour onwards to another vehicle. Fortunately, the PT Cruiser has excellent front and rear bumpers and we found ourselves unwounded, though a little shocked. Oddly the last car in the chain had come off worst.
It probably was also fortunate that all the drivers involved were female. I myself reversed into an expensive-looking silver-grey Merc in Siena, braking just in time, but just touching its bumper. When I got out to deliver my best British "Scusi, the Merc's occupant launched into a spectacular series of gesticulations, and it became clear from his references to blind women that he had failed to notice my GB number plate and and had concluded that V was the culprit. I had to bite my lip to avoid laughing, which I just knew would complicate matters even further.
When a bus stopped in front of me in a narrow street I had attempted to pass it, not seeing the temporary traffic light on the right by the pavement - a fairly standard misadventure facing right-hand drivers on the continent. The guy in the Merc must have seen what I was trying to do but was clearly determined to quickly close down the space before I could get back to safety and I'm sure that much of his Latin vexation derived from the fact that we had apparently dared to call his bluff and carried on backwards regardless.
Will be publishing all the photos in sequence. The first two sets encompass the journey down through France and the ride along the Rivieras into Tuscany.
* Gevrey-Chambertin, Rhône Valley (nr Vienne), Fréjus, Finale Liguria, Lucca, Grottaferratta/Frascati (x2), Sorrento, Orvieto, Florence, Cremona, Torno (Lake Como), Stresa (Lake Maggiore), Besançon and Bruges.
No comments:
Post a Comment