Leaving our relaxing
campsite on the edge of Tuscany, we were looking forward to having over a week
or so to explore the Liguria region; the Italian Riviera no less. Amongst much other useful stuff left to
us by the previous owners of our van, was a dusty old map of Liguria
highlighting all the wonderful sights, sounds and gastronomic delights to be
found, so we picked some ‘must see’s’…well excited we were… and planned to make
our first stop at the very edge of the region, at La Spezia. Now, perhaps partly because we
chose to stay on an aire, and in some instances as I’m sure we’ve already
mentioned, they tend to be in the scrag-end of towns, we weren’t left with a
nice feeling about La Spezia. Our
stop for the night was at the bottom of the ambulance car park, and we were
checked in by a bunch of paramedics having a late lunch break. Weird. However, aside from a voluntary donation to the service, it
was free at least. As you can
imagine though, ambulance car parks are rarely in the nice part of town, and
our attempt to walk towards something a bit more up our street failed…finding
ourselves at a shop where the locals couldn’t be bothered to put their
cigarettes out when they went to get their shopping…yup, that bad. So La Spezia was a one- night treat,
and not really desiring to explore further we headed up the coast.
Driving towards Cinque
Terre, we were keen to adhere to our friend Joanna’s advice to ‘not attempt to
take the van there under any circumstances’, and certainly the roads looked
very small and squiggly on the map, however we thought Levanto looked pretty
manageable, there were a few other motor homes about, and well, quite frankly
saying something is tricky in the van is a bit like a red rag to a bull after
Albania-mania so we went for it.
Levanto was lovely; steep and jagged cliffs plunging into clear sea and
lovely pastel coloured houses perched up on the mountains. The rows of matching sun loungers and
umbrellas on the beach ruined it somewhat , packing em in like sardines as
usual, but still an impressive view.
It was attempting to negotiate ourselves out of Levanto on a different
road in busy traffic that we took a wrong turn somewhere along the line and
found ourselves snaking up the ‘steep and jagged cliffs’ on an increasingly
narrow road…aahh, we thought as we realised we couldn’t turn around…this is
what Joanna meant…yeah we really shouldn’t be here. But the only way is up, as Yazz would say, and up, and up
and up. At last, thankfully the road
ended and we had enough space to turn around and head down, this time at least
a little more relaxed and able to appreciate the stunning view. We finished the day at Sestri Levante,
on a very overpriced campsite, due to the lack of aires on this part of the
Riviera. In fact it was the kind
of expensive that got us thinking about how much it was going to cost to carry
on exploring the Riviera at this time of year, and actually, now don’t get me
wrong I’m sure parts of it are very lovely, but it really isn’t our thing. We also realised that the parts of
Italy we had enjoyed the most were when we were in the countryside, so we made
plans to abandon Liguria and head over to Piedmont instead. What, no Portofino I hear you cry? Nope, afraid not, you can’t do
everything hey.
The Riviera obviously
felt a little put out by our decision, as that night we were both kept awake by
about four rounds of thunder and lightening, and extremely heavy rain. Packing our damp belongings into the
van the next morning (something tells me we best get used to this) we headed
for the countryside. And the
minute we did, we knew we had made the right decision. We stopped for some lunch in a place
called Sassello, apparently the home of amaretti, a lovely little town where we
thought it rude not to purchase some of their wares, yum. Then we drove onwards to our aire at
Acqui Terme. What a beautiful
place we were in, a stunning town indeed, and we arrived in time to have an
afternoon stroll around a street market full of antiques, and all sorts
really. As girls do in these
instances, I managed to pick up a bargain; a €2 cardigan which I’ve
respectively been told looks like a rug in a granny’s house, oh well… We arose early the next day to get out
on our bikes, and with the weather god’s smiling on us had a fantastic ride,
stopping at the most picturesque river for a plunge in the clear water, made
all the more perfect for having the whole place to ourselves. Returning to the van, via the local
gelato shop (melon flavour is where it’s at guys) we drove onwards to stay the
night at a vineyard aire at San Damiano d’Asti. At first when we saw the gate across the entrance, we
thought our luck was out, but thankfully the owners daughter greeted us and
suggested that once we had parked up the van, we join her for some wine tasting
in the cellar. So, we left the van
next to a cheerful looking goat and in we went. The vineyard itself has been passed down through three
generations and there were wonderful old photos of grandfathers and great
grandfathers working the land adorning the walls. We sampled a few reds, and were kept thoroughly entertained
by the owner’s daughter throughout, who was moving to Australia later that week
and thankfully wanted to work on her English! She then asked us to choose our favourite so that she could
fill us up a complimentary carafe…errr could this day get any better? Strolling back to the van, wine in
hand, we heard an odd noise coming from a nearby shed, ‘it sounds like some old
guy lifting weights’ I said. No,
not at all it turns out, as our neighbour for the night, an asthmatic Shetland
pony announced himself by wheezing his way over, joining us and the goat for
the evening. We had wine, they had
peaches, and we were all a happy bunch.
After a shocking
night’s sleep; old wheezy stood guard by the van all night, we headed out for
more cycling to blow away the cobwebs, and then prior to leaving the vineyard,
thought we might just purchase some of that lovely wine to take with us. Now I knew purchasing direct would
probably be cheaper, but €1.65 a litre is unbelievable! So off we went, lugging our very heavy 5litre
bottle with us.
We drove through the
town of Alba, breathing in the thick scent of chocolate hanging in the air…it’s
here they make forrero rocher chocolates and …nutella!! Did anyone else know they were made by
the same company? Well it was news to us, and weirdly quite a sickening smell. Onto our final stop in Piedmont, an
agrotourism place in Belvedere Lange.
Bloody lovely it was to, with a swimming pool for us to while away the
evening sun. Piedmont, as it turns
out, was the best decision we ever made.
Next though, we were
bound for France, as we had an airport appointment with London Lady, Anna
Smith. Heading back down to the
Italian Riviera rather then tackling the route through the Alps, we spent a
night at an aire in San Remo, waking up to our final border crossing for a
while. Pretty much four months to
the day we left, we were back in France.
And weirdly, the difference between the Italian and French Riviera is
vast, suddenly everything was less packed, very beautiful, and far more chic. Certainly this coastline is made
for burning around in a small, vintage convertible, as we found out to our
frustration arriving at Nice airport; height restriction barriers everywhere
preventing the bus getting anywhere near.
Finally though, there were three of us in the van, pootling up through
the Provence countryside, and soon enough us girls were in bikini’s and by the
pool for afternoon sunshine.
The next day brought
what seemed an endless search for the ‘nearby’ Gorges de Loup, made all the
longer by the campsite owner pointing us in the opposite direction. Nearly four hours, and nearly as many
about-turns later, the three of us found ourselves winding through trees beside
the Loup river, marvelling at all the clear pools that we wanted to jump into,
but pushing on towards the gorges.
Finally settling on a deep pool fed by a small waterfall at the top, we
stripped to our swimmers and walked up to our ankles; ‘whooah!!’ this was
seriously cold water! Had it not been for the effort required to get there I’m
not sure we’d have got in, but slowly we managed to lower ourselves in, Anna’s
shrieks echoing around the gorges, for the most invigorating swim in the most
beautiful location. While sat on
the rocks in the sun, thawing out our frozen toes, a group of French tourists
came gorge diving into our pool, head to toe in wetsuits. We realised how bloody cold the water
really was, and hoped that our hair still looked wet enough to make us look
like crazy adventurers… anyway,
what adventurers need are croque monsiours and beers, so we stopped at a bar on
the way back and then ambled our way through the pretty French town of Bar sur
Loup, returning to the van, and the start of a night of rain. Not that we cared, what an amazing day
we’d had.
The next morning, we
packed up the van in the pouring rain (told you we’d get used to this) and
headed back to the coast. Not
really feeling our first destination we plumped for Antibes, and after setting
up camp decided to walk into the old town for a nice French supper. Mussels of course, and obligatory red
wine. Then of course it was time
for some beach action, so the next morning we strolled to Antibes beach (since
the one near the campsite was more ‘bleugh’ than ‘beach’) , past all the shiny
yacht’s in the harbour, for a morning of sun, sea and sand…and more importantly
Anna’s first swim in the sea all year.
But inevitably, here come those rain clouds again, so we packed up and
happily found a Picasso museum in the old town to while away the afternoon and
add a touch of culture to Anna’s trip.
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