2 Aug 2013

6. Italy

One moment I’m in Switzerland, then
with out the slightest change of scenery I’m in Italy.
 Cycling along the Lake Maggiore lakeside road and one moment I’m in Switzerland then the next it’s Italy.  Unlike most border crossings there’s usually a noticeable change of some sort, but no here.  I had been told how Switzerland itself was a cocktail of a country; French on the west, Germans in the north and central, and Italians in the south.  The Italian influence was noticed as I descended down the St. Gotthard mountain pass, but now crossing the official border I was in Italy proper.  Time to get the euro’s back out and also start paying ‘normal’ down to earth prices…for most things at least (we’ll come back to this later!).

I had a slight problem in that the parcel I was expecting contained the Italian map, but fortunately the Swiss one had a reasonable over-lap that would keep me going for two days or so.

Following the lake road to the town of Sesto Calende I pick up a river route that seems popular with cyclists.  After a while a road cyclist joins me and initiates conversation.  Andy was Danish and been posted in Italy, working for Easy Jet as a pilot.  We rode together for a good few kilometres and said one day he planned to also do a bicycle tour with his wife.  Soon we depart, Andy taking a right-hand turn whilst I continue down the river. 

Getting toward the end of the day a few kilometres further down and I pass a boarded up canal / river side building, carrying enough drinking water, and with a clear water brook at the rear I decide this was home for the night, there was even a picnic table to cook and eat my dinner at.  

The next day the route continued much the same but as the river headed east toward Milan I was heading south to Rome. The last few kilometres of the Swiss map were fast approaching so I urgently needed to buy a map.  Hunting around the town I was now in started to prove frustrating so after I noticed an internet café’ just decided I’d print some Google maps,  that should suffice for a while at least.  Now following a busier road my mood soon changed from that tranquil state of mind that a river route seems to provide.  It wasn’t just the traffic that had upset my mood but also the general appearance of Italy from the busy road.  There was a lot of rubbish everywhere, and big advertising signs for this and that and men lounging around outside café’s talking like old ladies, and as I ride past people staring, not just a brief glance but a stare, similar to Czech and Slovakia. 

Stopping in a town just on the outskirts of Genoa a chap stopped me and asked where I was from / going, then tells me Italy is one crazy, messed-up country.  Several kilometres later and I’m in the heart of Genoa.  It’s was a busy, chaotic, moped riddled place and would not recommend this even to an enemy, so steer clear.  It proved conformation to what I had been told about.
  
The first Italian campsite was 15 euro’s and had no toilet seats, no toilet roll, no soap dispenser, no paper towels and even wanted 50 cents to obtain hot water from the shower which lasted about 3 minutes.  Although 50 cents is no vast sum of money, when I’ve paid 15 euro’s to camp I expect to pay no extra.  The camping area was simply a gravel covered yard with no grass whatsoever.  Asking for a full refund and I’ll free-camp somewhere I explain why and the chap gives me 50 cent’s to use the shower.

The following night the campsite wanted 27 euro’s!  “One tent, one man, for one night?” – needless to say my next move.  Upon finding out the campervan parking area on the verge of town had a clean water tap I pitched my tent there, for free. Italy was starting to annoy me.  I was now on a mission to get to Rome, A.S.A.P., get the photo of the Coliseum and move on to Albania.

Calling in at a garage for a cola I notice a display of maps!  Pinching myself for a reality check I buy one, at least I could confirm that Italy does sell maps.  I guess part of my frustration is the language barrier, most Italians do not speak any English and I had got used to most of the countries so far speaking at least some English. 

The end of another day with crepuscular rays filling the sky.­

Having good conversation at another campervan park one morning with an Australian who lived in northern Italy told me about a route to take to get to Pisa.  The route was better and clamed my mood down somewhat.

 The road I had been following eventually turned into a dual carriage way with bicycles not longer allowed so had to find an alternative route.  My map did not show many of the smaller roads so it was down to the trusty compass to see what would happen.  As luck would have it I found an old road that was now a cycle lane.  This led away from the busier area into tranquil countryside, and here I found Italy does have another side.  In the evening I cycled over a bridge with entry points into a field that would make for excellent camping.  Not being bothered to cook myself I continued ahead to a village I could see at the end of the road.  At a small bar / café I had a beer along with three pieces of pizza.  Noticing someone surfing I asked about wifi connection,  the barman was more than willing to help me and showed a level of friendliness I hadn’t seen by an Italian so far.  With an excellent WiFi connection I contently surfed whilst sipping on another beer and was also content knowing I could return back down the road to the free-camp spot I had noticed earlier.

The following day I headed for the town of Manciano.  This was as far away from any main roads as it could get and felt excellent.  Rural villages with farms offering agritourism (B&B accommodation).  Fruit sellers just of the road next to the farms selling their goods.  As my food stock was low - and being a Sunday - I took advantage of them, fresh apples, juicy plums and peaches.  The town of Manciano was perched on top of a hill, with a castle on the pinnacle.  To my surprise the town’s supermarket was actually open so loaded up on a few essentials such as Yogurts, bread, bananas, ham slices, cheese-spread and salted crisps.

 Rolling fields containing hay-bails..
 ..and villages containing silence.

Unfortunately my new found route would slowly end as it veered back toward the busy coastal road.  Rome was just 60 kilometres away but not wanting to arrive late in the evening and trawl my way through the inevitable maze I camped in some sort of olive tree orchard. One thing I was longing for was a warm-shower and to clean my clothes!

The road into Rome was as busy as the M25.  Departing when I saw signs implying bicycles no-longer permitted so I made my way into a periphery village.  Fortunately some road cyclists helped out and led me to a cycle path that would lead right into the heart of Rome.  Noticing my bicycle’s Singapore sign we stopped for a chat and compared the weight of our bikes;  I lifted theirs with one finger, they had to use both hands to lift mine!


 The cycle lane I had been led to, this was about 14 kilometres long, making for some stress-free cycling.

I stayed in Rome for two nights at a host’s shared flat.  Patrick was from Chicago so we had good conversation about my Route 66 tour that officially starts there, along with other subjects.


One of the many ruins in the centre of Rome (Roma).



 But the main ruin I had come to see: The Coliseum.

The ride from Rome to the eastern port town of Bari was nothing too exciting.  My lack of interest in Italy was still over-riding any of the hi-lights there had been so I simply followed the main roads to get there.  The first night I free-camped in a village after a local had redirected me back to the campsite I’d past, but he over-looked telling me said campsite had been closed for many years!  Fortunately the free-camp wooded area had a fresh water tap so happy days!

There were just a few photographs worth showing from that four-day section:

So here’s hoping my entry into Albania and Greece lift’s my spirits back to where they should be.