Riviera roulette and gorgeous gorges

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.

As always, we reach the day when our friends have to go, which is always tinged with sadness.  In this instance it was also tinged with slight hangovers from a night of far too much red wine and very competitive card games into the wee hours.  Anna, it turns out, is a pretty aggressive Uno player for a first-timer.  A wonderful visit from a wonderful friend, we felt a little lonely when she had gone.  I wonder what could cheer us up…more friends to stay perhaps?...        

Piedmont

Strap yourself in, it's a long one (as the actress said to..)

'Ciao!' 'Bellissimo!' 'Mama Mia!' 'You look atta-ma sizz-ter I-a cut off aya genitals and-a turnem into spizy meatballz like-a ma mamma yoose-to-a maik..'

Yes! All this can only mean one thing, we’ve arrived at the home of great food, passionate people and the world’s most loved organised crime syndicate – Italia!!

As Helen mentioned previously we took the opportunity to travel to Italy using Camping on Board. If you have a camper this really is a great way of doing an overnight journey giving you both the luxury (if you can call it that) of wandering around the rust bucket you booked onto but still using your own van for sleeping, hanging out etc. You even get to hook-up - that’s an electrical thing Rob, not an on-board swingers party - dead handy if you don’t want to book an overnight cabin or if you haven’t yet mastered contortionism and can’t bend yourself into a small chair in a brightly lit restaurant for hours on end.   All you need to know is what time you arrive at your destination so you can set an alarm and not oversleep. I’ll ask at the bar, they’ll know. ‘ Mi dispiace, non capisco’ came the response. No worries, I’ll ask at the ship’s main reception. After a bit of thought: ‘I-a don’t-a know-a whatata time-a we arrive’. Good man.

Every country seems to have a butt-hole of a town and Bari, from what we saw upon arrival, is certainly a good nominee for Italy’s, a right old dive of an industrial wasteland. Bari also has one of the most confusing road systems we’ve encountered so far and it took ages to figure out how to get out of it – we’re sure it was intentionally designed this way to trap you there – but once free we found ourselves in the stunning setting of the southern Italian countryside, all sun-scorched fields, rustic farm buildings and crooked old woman dressed all in black (a suicidal move given the heat), bellissimo indeed.

Like Greece with its ‘picturesque, stunning, awesome’ coastline and beaches Italy seems to have a never-ending succession of ‘picturesque, stunning, awesome’ old hill-top towns and Matera was the first we stopped at. Bloody good choice too, an amazing little city that looked incredible at night-time. Not even a disappointing first Italian meal served to us by an Italian gentleman whose designer shoes were clearly crippling him (they do suffer for their fashion here) could spoil our short stop here. We’ve realised that we need to find more free stops now so we found a decent little car-park to spend the night in. We even felt comfortable enough to hang out our freshly laundered undies in the morning, much to the surprise of the locals going about their business I’m sure. Saying that, I have got nice briefs though, perfect for hot climates; ‘Cool and Fresh, with Stretch’ retailing at just £17.00 for a four pack, available in white or black (mine are white) from all good Marks and Spencers. Sorry, I’ve put that in just in-case someone from M&S’ publicity department happens to find our blog and wants to sponsor me. God knows I could do with it the rate I’m getting through them out here.. it’s the heat.

Onwards, and quite literally, UPWARDS!! Geddit?? It’s a hilly country, so you go up a lot, quite literally (though there are obviously some downs too). A lovely drive through the mountains, a quick dip in the ocean and a stop at an incredible typically Italian food store and we found ourselves at a brilliant little aire near an old town called Chiaromonte that had stunning views on account of being up on a hill. A fantastic facility that appeared criminally underused by those whose use it was intended for. But we weren’t complaining, having the place to ourselves. Besides, we weren’t completely alone. It appeared that all orange-clad public sector workers were skiving off work here in the daytime and we had the added ‘pleasure’ of the company of the local football team whose great looking municipal ground was joined onto the aire. They trained in their pants don’t-cha-know. Oddballs, in more ways than one.

It was here the day came that I was hoping would never arrive. There was no toilet facility at the aire and a walk around the very steep, very shut, town also proved fruitless. So, despite having strict Thetford toilet rules concerning any serious use I had to have my first ‘crunchie’ in the van.. not pleasant, or easy, with loads of curious bin-men and footy players in g-strings hovering about outside…I hope I never see this day again.

A new dawn and another lovely drive through the mountains and all around the houses to our next destination of Padula, a stunning old town set on a… you know the rest! We stopped at the bottom of town at one of those ‘Agro-tourism’ (which isn’t as violent as it sounds) places that turned out to be a lovely old farm. We had a couple of lovely nights here and spent our time getting back out on our bikes to explore the local area, something we haven’t had the chance to do for ages, and wandering around the town in the evening. There was even a free concert to go to in the stunning setting of the local monastery that we stumbled across. Some entertainment, we thought. After waiting an age for the band to strike up we were gutted to be presented with a right over-the-top warbling pop diva so promptly left. Unfortunately, our farm was near the monastery so we had a night of one Italian Celine Dion type after another belting out a load of crap. For once I was thankful, and felt sorry for, the local dogs who had been set off by the noise but who also helped drown it out.. good Rovers.

We don’t often take in touristy or recommended stuff but we’d remembered that we’d kept a few old Guardian travel items on the places we’d be visiting and went through Italy’s. One leapt out at me in particular, an article entitled ‘Is This the Best Pizza in Italy?’. It turned out that we weren’t far from Agropoli, the location of Pizzeria Anna, so we headed out to find it. The article mentioned that the Pizzeria was not what you’d expect, nothing posh, just a normal looking ‘you’d-walk-past-it-most-days’ little restaurant and they were right. But, my god, the pizza’s we ordered were very cheap, all things considered, and incredible!

Despite it’s run of the mill setting the pizzeria had certificates on the wall to show that the tomatoes were a sweet San Marzano variety grown on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius and that the mozzarella came from a herd of buffalos reared in the marsh meadows north of Napoli (stolen word for word from the Guardian article, can they sue?). Helen ordered the pizza vulcana that was simply a tomato base, gooey buffalo mozzarella and prosciutto, and it was sublime. Hooper decided he would go for the pizza a sorpresa, the same as the journalist who had written for the Guardian. We only had half the article so I didn’t know what I’d ordered and the menu had given me no clue. All I got from the article was that this pizza was ‘extraordinary’. The journalist was 100% bang on. It turned out that the pizza a sorpresa, the most expensive on the menu at just €10 was one single pizza but divided into eight different sections, each with a selected topping of the chef’s choice from the menu… I nearly cried when it arrived. A true work of art and it was absolutely amazing. Not too big, elegantly understated given what it was and a truly delicious pizza. One to tick off of the list along with once owning a Porsche and getting fired from a job.

Up Pompei! Frankie Howard once cried and Pompei was our next destination, somewhere I was really looking forward to going. We’d found a little aire not far from the ruin which was in a part of Pompei that another eruption could only improve, an awesome little place to stay again complete with outside, in full view of all other campers, shower. We kept our swimmers on for this refreshingly ice-cold experience though (sorry to disappoint any naturists out there) and settled in for an early night after a particularly tricky drive into Napoli.

I’m not very good at writing about the historical stuff we go to see but needless to say Pompei really does not disappoint. With the ancient city preserved as well as it is you get a real sense of what it would have been like to live in a city such as this and the added bonus of Vesuvius as the dramatic backdrop. It is well worth the €11 it costs to get in, the pick of the relics we’ve looked around so far for me as there is so much still there. Houses, shops, public buildings etc still in such good condition and a really good amphitheatre that would have been great for watching lions chase christians. However, when they were building it all those years ago did not one person think; ‘ere, that huge great big volcano yeah?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Not gonna go off at any point soon, destroy all this good work like and bury us all alive under a thick layer of hot choking ash?’ ‘Nope…’

Our continued journey north took us first to the worryingly named Strangolagalli - where we had a free night at a recycling unit - and then to Terni where we found an aire that you could stay at for 48hrs for just €4 with ruddy electric too. Not too bad a town either with free access to great sporting facilities including a running track - take note Britain!

It was here that Helen too had a day that she probably never wished would come and pleaded with me not to write about. After her sharing my comment about Anne’s lovely over-toppy-beachy-thingy though I couldn’t resist. So, we’ve been without WiFi for a while and desperately needed to get budgeting/planning etc done as soon as was possible. We walked the whole town looking for WiFi and found nothing. We were just about to give up when out of nowhere ‘do do do do dooo, I’m loving it!’ There they were, the golden arches, and what does that say on the door?? Free bloody WiFi. Helen hasn’t had a Maccy D’s for 8 years (or so she tells me). Three hours we were in there, first ‘we’ll just have drinks yeah?’ Then, ‘I’ll just have a small wrap or something’ which turned out to be a fuuuuuull Maccy D meal with fries an all. She now has her own Maccy D’s WiFi account and everything..

It was during the next day’s drive that I suddenly got whiff of the most awful smell. ‘Oh no, perhaps Helen has reacted badly to her Maccy D and hasn’t had time to get to the toilet’ I thought to myself as she sat beside me in the cab, ‘I won’t say anything, the poor girl’. But no!! I needn’t have worried. The awful smell was emanating from outside as we’d just arrived at the natural sulphur hot springs of Saturnia - thankfully!! Pretty crowded by the time we arrived in the evening so we got up early the next morning, had a lovely walk through the south Tuscan countryside and plunged ourselves into the naturally occurring hot water pools. After bobbing around here for an hour we then went off piste, found the river that was the source of the pools and, along with just a few locals ‘in-the-know’, had a relaxing plunge in the river, without many others around. Lovely, aside from the fact that some of our clothes & bedding now smell like rotten eggs.

The next evening we found ourselves in Colle di Val D’elsa and camping in a small woodland set on a lovely Tuscan vineyard run by an awesome piss-head eccentric, completely on our own. ‘We’ll do 2 nights here, awesome, just what we’d been looking for, at last’. We both soon changed our minds after a few trips down to the ramshackle, insect infected back-to-nature toilet facility set back into the woods. Wussies, both of us.

So after a night of ‘what was that, did you hear that noise?’ etc and lots of recent free, cheaper stops we both felt that we needed somewhere easier and more comfortable for a few days. We’ve arrived just south of Viareggio at the kind of campsite that we hated at the beginning of the trip and would normally not go to but it’s been lovely having everything we need in easy reach and the sound of other people around us again. A good chance to re-charge, get washing done & plan September in France which is shaping up to be very busy with much welcomed visits. One thing about the site though, once you’ve paid for your pitch they then charge you to use the outside pool, cheeky f*@!ers, and not only that they make you all wear identical swimming caps so we all look like some kind of weird cult or really bad synchronised swimming team. Coleman was not happy.

It was from here that we jumped on our bikes and headed out to find something that I have wanted to see since I was a nipper – only the bleeding Leaning Tower of Pisa!! An amazing sight to behold and I was glad it wasn’t a let down after all those years of longing. Whilst there a street trader told me a remarkable story about the tower.

Apparently, sometime in the early 1980’s an angry, unshaven and clearly drunk American man in fancy dress arrived out of the blue and singlehandedly righted the tower back into a true vertical position! This caused huge problems for the local souvenir sellers who now had stalls full of useless ceramic mini Leaning Towers which had to be replaced with new, true, replicas. No sooner has this happened than, about 6 months later, that same now much happier looking American guy returned and pushed the Tower back to it’s original, and world renowned, listing position! After the expense of replacing all of the ‘leaning’ stock this pissed the local traders off no end so, clearly exasperated by events, they set about smashing up their now useless stock with brooms. Weird huh!? Honestly, you couldn’t make it up…

The tower is found in a lovely setting with some other beautiful buildings around it including a cathedral with really impressive external decoration and impressive carved doors and another large domed shaped building that also appeared to list slightly. I overheard lots of ‘is that building leaning too or does it just appear that way because I’ve been looking at a leaning building’ conversations but I am convinced it was also on the wonk. Pisa is definitely a good place to do in a day.

You may wonder why there are some glaringly obvious names missing from the ‘must see’ list of Italian places to visit - Rome, Amalfi Coast etc - but after nearly four months on the road, and with the weather still blisteringly hot, we’ve been a little pooped of late so need time to just relax. We’d also decided that we like the Italian countryside far more than the coast we’ve seen and that the major cities are just too hot, and too packed, to bother going to this time around. So, we are just slowly drifting our way up through Umbria and Tuscany heading for nowhere in particular whist taking in the incredible scenery all around us.

Proof we're not lying 1

Proof we're not lying 2