I left feeling that I had copped out on Florence a little. It is a striking city. Busy, vibrant, with legitimate world class buildings and history. It’s full of tourists (like me) and that kind of cheapened it for me. For those buildings and piazzas, to be shown off properly you need to lose the mass hordes of tourists that seem to infect this remarkable place. That said I enjoyed the company of the guys I met so briefly but time to move on to Pompeii.
Pompeii is in the south of Italy. Remember what I had already written about the driving when I entered this country. Well, the further south it got the more extreme the lengths Italian motorists will go to to gain 20ft of space. Indicators are optional as are crash helmets. Increasingly you begin to notice that your car is probably the cleanest and the only un-dented car you have seen for miles and then you start to think you are now a target for every Italian driver. That GB sticker is like the bulls eye. That was only on the Autostrada...more later.
Pompeii – 3rd May to 5th May 2011
So into Pompeii town . As usual I had not booked in advance so objective number 1 being getting a doss for the night. I reason that if I go to the first hotel I come across the chances are my ratio of good to bad ones will even out. So true to form I went for the Hotel Iside in Pompeii. It was Brilliant. Secure parking, family place, clear airy room with a view and a nice functioning bathroom. 50 euro’s. They even insisted on showing me the room first.
True to form, after a 500 mile drive, unpack, wash clothes, shower then out to get something to eat and a beer. The square is a delight and underused. The evening weather was fine, cool (too cool for me now)and about to turn thundery. I sat and took in "down town" Pompeii. Pompeii town is very small. The merry making population of Pompeii was a handful of low key tourists and locals. Just the way I like it. I had a couple of very pleasant beers. Here (as Spain later) drinks come with a plate of little titbits to tantalise the drinkers’ palate and very nice they are to. I’ve had this nice custom a few times. Definitely makes you feel welcome and stay longer than you would normally. You don’t get this in the UK and it’s a shame.
The Italians are great people. Smiles are reciprocated and jokes attempted despite the language. On that score a good number of Italians speak reasonable English and don’t mind practising it. Drinking on the continent is a minor art form i think that is why they do not have our drinking culture issues. In Europe drinking is an important part of the heartbeat of life. Everyone does it and all ages mix. It’s not just drinking beer. The day in the lives of many Europeans is stitched together by quick coffee shots, glass of wine lunch time, small beer or two in the evening before going off home for a spirit of some kind. Culture.
In bed at 10pm then up at 7am to get ready to go to the ruins and the start of a nice day. I really cannot put into words the impact of this place. Vesuvius is in the back ground and it is massive and very close. It looks very menacing indeed. To be truthful, the people of Pompeii, mate. What a bunch of plonkers. You only need to look at this thing to know that WHEN it gets pissed off just run. Immediately. Don’t stop.
The ruins are huge. In terms of acreage, in terms of its clear impact this discovery has on the understanding of this place in history and everything else really. Its great. I hope i will be able to post some of the many photos I have taken somewhere on the blog. Have a look and you will see what i mean. Basically the ruin is the foot print of an entire small town with the top chopped off. So you see shop fronts with marble counters with recessed amphora. These vessels all sorts of stuff from beer to wheat the bakery with capstan like grind stones was off particular note; as was the brothel. I liked that one. It had a snake painted on the outside wall. That snake was a Roman deity that warded off VD.
You really do need to see the pictures.
In the afternoon I bumped into 2 girls from the UK and after lunch we went on to Herculaneum on the train. Again that was another great tour. 11euro’s each site. A definite must see.
I went back to Pompeii for the night where I caught up on my washing, rang home and had an early night with a DVD. The girls had invited me to go with them to Capri the next day and stay over in Sorrento before leaving Italy and as I had the time I thought why not. Jo and Lorna were life time friends. Both professional women of intelligence and depth and I think I bored them rigid. Lorna lived in New Zealand and was spending some time in the UK to catch up with friends and family and decided to go to Italy as well. Nice one.
Going to Sorrento – The Great White Knuckle Ride - 5th May 2011
I promised more driving stories didn’t I? This is the single most hairy drive I have ever had and my car lost its virginity to Italian motoring. I need to do the 16miles from Pompeii to Sorrento and get into my hotel and out the door for the ferry to Capri at 0930. I left at 0735. It’s busy and it is coming at you from all angles. Italian pedestrians do not move for you. You would have to hit one for he or she to hasten their occupancy of the road. There are double parked light and medium trucks on hazard warning lights unloading or having a coffee in the cafe!. There are coaches, groups of men talking and smoking and the roads are solid. Then the coast road begins. You have seen James Bond in the Alps with the cliff hugging road. You got it; it is grown up Scalextric time. There is a "no overtaking" line in the middle of the road. There is a speed limit of 60kmh. All ignored with either a testosterone driven fury or a estrogen fuelled ignorance. They just don’t care. Nose to bumper at 60mph negotiating the tightest, twistiest road I have ever driven on trying to follow the satnav was an intense experience. Bearing in mind if I crash and it all stops. I made it but not before getting lost taking a "detour" that lead up a 1.5mtr wide road and both my wing mirrors took scrapes – at the same time. I was happy though. We caught the ferry as planned and made the 25min or so journey to Capri on time.
The Delightful Capri – 5th May 2011
The fact that the girls had been hardened travellers in the past made them fearless. There were 2 options. Bus or 30 minute walk up to the rock plateau that Capri central so to speak is built. The travellers and I went for the walk option. Have a coffee on the way and get away from the crowds. The alleys are narrow in Capri and its part of its charm. But when they are so steep that a mountain goat would say "fuck off you must be joking!" you know you have made a bad move but as the sweat flowed and the sandaled feet swelled we made the assent and had a couple of beers in the square with the noisy bells. The "streets" are not wide enough for normal traffic so small golf buggy type things are employed for the moving of boxed sized stuff.
The shops are a snapshot of world fashion labels but all of them are small and located in alleys beautify manicured with flowering baskets and other decorations. The cliffs are vertical in places and the little eating areas are high class and as informal or formal as you would like. It’s all very easy there. Sooner or later the heat, mountaineering, and alcohol would generate a move to Foxtrot Oscar and we got the ferry back to Sorrento. Quick clean up and out for drinks and maybe something to eat. We walked around a bit and the girls left me while I talked the merits of the Premier League against Seria A. I was in bed at 12. We met up at breakfast said our "goodbyes" and I checked out of the very nice 4* Hotel Plaza. 130euros per night.
The Shithole Naples – 6th May 2011
The girls were off to Naples to do the museums and do the ubiquitous shopping taking the ferry across the Bay of Naples. Or the train I can’t remember which. Not 30 minutes after our fond farewells’ Text reads : "Train strike! can you take us to Naples". Naples is a shithole of the most unpleasant kind. It is filthy. Rubbish, people, cars, motorbikes, noise everywhere. Real mental stuff. The traffic was immense but it’s another experience. I have driven through the centre of 2 major Italian cities in the trip and I’m so glad I took it on because you do get a feel for the place when you drive through it. Mostly how wealthy it is. Road quality, signage, rufuse collection, the look of the people all give an indication to the general well being of the inhabitants. In Naples they have greasy skin, discoloured or missing teeth and old massacred cars that would not pass scrutineering at a stock car race. Jo had heard that the day before 3 Italian kids on scooters mugged a couple for his Rolex only a couple of days before. Nasty. Napoli, don’t go there.
The Journey to North Italy - 7th May 2011
This, like the great 900 mile journey south 7-8 days previous, is no small undertaking looking back on it. You must concentrate and keep things consistent. Speed, drinks, stops, never stop but never starve or thirst either. I wanted to be at or cross the Alps that shortened day. My next abode was some 1500 miles distant in southern Spain. I wanted to get off to a good start. Essentially it is a straight toll road straight up the western half of the Italian peninsular and it’s fast. By nightfall I had crossed the Alps again and bearing down on Monte Carlo. 700miles? That is the second time I had driven the length of Great Britain in a day. It won’t be the last either.
I got to Monte Carlo and immediately headed for the GP circuit. It was 11.30pm and the roads were clear and Murrey Walker’s voice was in my head saying "..and here is Rattley coming up to casino.." "..Through the tunnel" all with the appropriate sound effects. And guess what. I was.
Cote d’azur – 8th May
By the time I had won the trophy and snogged Princess Gorgeous of Snowdonia I had to rest up for the night. Monte Carlo or bust ay? I spent that night between Monte Carlo and Nice in my car. I slept well and saved a few quid.
A close friend who had done a similar trip 8 years earlier strongly recommended that I take the small coast road along the Cote d’azur and it was very good advice indeed. The road is tight and challenging but the French appreciate this and enjoy the experience too in more modern and upmarket fare than their south Italian cousins. First though through Nice and the other coastal towns to Cannes.
Cannes was very posh and being a bit wiffy from my over nighter with the Mazy I head for the beach and a swim. I find a virtual empty beach and went in the Med for the first time on the trip. It was cold. I got out and sunbathed instead. Tits young and old appeared a disappeared and i took to the road after a couple of hours to find a proper bed for the night early. From Cannes through Miramar I got to Agay via some of the most enjoyable roads god has ever created. They were twisty and pretty clear and with the windows open and that post sunbathe feeling I was happy tanned, clean and slim in new clothes. In early May that was a nice feeling. I was in a different country where everything is different at the operation and climatic levels. It is what I’m doing here and it felt good. The sea was a deeper blue than the sky and Pearl Jam was on loud. I’m cool. Everyone was cool.
I stopped at this very small little hamlet called Agay right on the beach road. I Immediately made friends with a Scottish couple over a late lunch who were biking it and staying in the same hotel. I had lunch and we had a couple of late afternoon beers where upon we agreed to meet up later and go to "Happy Days" cafe for a Fonz inspired burger in seats shaped like Cadilacs. I shit you not, on the Cote D’azur, I am eating in such a place. They grabbed a bottle of wine and went off to their room and I thought that is the last I will see of them today.
The Happy Days Cafe was actually more of a "Jack Rabbit Slims" from Pulp Fiction. A wax works with a pulse but it was clean and classy actually. The life-size Marilyn Munroe added to the plausibility of it all. The owner is a bodybuilder named Francois. A 30’s something rocker with quiff and Yamaha V-Max. I was dressed smartly and it was not long before I struck up a conversation with a French lady and she was prepared to practise her English and for me to likewise my French. This was going to be the first night of my life I was going to have social conversations in a foreign language, French. As I obviously did not eat children and this lady survived our conversation it was not long before I was having pigeon French conversations with a number of people, the most notable of which was a Breton biker. He was great! He hated the French. To him the "French were weak" and the Bretons and the British should rule the world. "We are the same people!" was his assertion. Well said. One thing I was learning was we were all the same people. We are Europeans.
It was not long before the lady I was speaking to got up and sang (with her guitarist partner) rock songs and the Jack Daniels began to flow in earnest complimented by a Fonzy Burger with fries. All this overlooking the Cote d’azur with a gentle, warm breeze in my face. Yeah, I’m travelling all right. I sank best part of a bottle of Jack or 50euros worth anyway and was up a 7am for the next day on the great horseshoe drive up Italy, across southern France, then down the west coast of Spain.
To Spain and beyond! – 9th May
I blatted the next 800-900km on the motorway system and the French part was dogged with toll booths every 50 miles or so. This was not only costly but a bloody nuisance. When you are travelling continental distances it seems as though you have just got settled into drive mode only to be woken out of this trance like concentration to get out of the car and grab a ticket or pay with one. I crossed the Pyrenees via the elevated "coastal" route and joined the Mediterranean Spanish Motorway and turned south towards Barcelona.
The Mediterranean countries are mountainous. Great peaks are either in clumps or can rise volcano like out of a flat base. Monte Cassino was like this in Italy and Spain had some similarities. What a difference an ice age makes; the event that rendered much of GB flat in contrast.
I finally stopped after some 800 miles at 8pm local at a roadside chain motel in Valencia. The type business would use and it was very good to. Secure parking, English speak staff, 24 hr restaurant and spacious room with silent air con. 50euros – excellent value. I had start on the motorways at about 9am stopping only for tolls and fuel so I was knackered and after a very agreeable paella I crashed. Spain is much cheaper for both tolls and fuel than France. They drive better to. The speed limit is 70mph and it is respected. Lane disciple is good and no real nutters to report. Fuel is 1.35 a litre and the tolls about half that of France. Both reductions come as a welcome relief when the mileage I am driving is considered. At this point I had driven 3300miles. Cost is one of the reasons I am going to Spain. Not this but my accommodation overhead. I also need to stop these long mileages and return to my fitness regime or pay the price. Luckily my weight was not a problem. In fact it was becoming a concern. My 34" jeans were beginning to hang. I must be close to 13st now. 5st less than I was 18mths ago. Both professionally and privately I can affect change like no other.
I completed the last 450miles to my destination before 4pm. The run from just south of Valencia to Rute, where my Spanish house awaited, was another little gem. No tolls now and you begin to climb which makes it cool, its morning and the motorway thinned of traffic and the drive had a simple quiet phase. Benidorm passes thankfully on the left as does Alicante and several other well known package holiday destinations. No major towns or anything impede these new Spanish road networks. Well thought out, large distances are easily achievable in a short time.
The first sight of the Sierra Nevada’s was impressive. I was getting used to seeing stunning mountains now but seeing them snow covered when it is 27c outside is a freak. As you get closer and rise the contrasting beauty of snow and parched rock and olive groves is remarkable and I knew that this trip is giving me so much. The decent is spectacular. The Alps was impressive but this was better because it was shorter therefore steeper. The rise was gradual then the car tips its nose down and you down shift into 4th and ride the road. You can feel the cool mountain air give way to 30c heat and i’m on the final leg of the journey on the Granada road. The final motorway section was an off shoot of the Granada road and was flat, straight and clear. No cameras and excellent vision. Foot to the floor time then! 80, 90, 100, 110, 120 finally 125 and hold. She enjoys a good leg stretch as much as i do. The "mileage remaining" on the satnav disappeared as fast as my fuel. The Mazy is a great touring car for 1 or 2 people. It has just enough of everything and is very comfortable. Moscow next year? Maybe the Arctic circle in summer. It’s all easily in reach with this car as is the shops when i get back. 2004, 2.0ltr, 150bhp, Mazda 3 Sport, 5 door saloon in black. 1 owner, 44k, FSH, £5000.
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