Luckily we were more successful by turning left at the main road; it was still more difficult than it would be in Australia with those helpful ‘beach’ signs on the street, or France’s ‘les plages’ but we walked down a footpath with brick walls on both sides, past fancy-looking gates to hotels and apartment complexes. Finally we passed through a gateway onto the ‘beach’. It was rocky and pebbly and being fairly late in the evening, grey and windy. But we’d found the water, and something about the sea air was very refreshing so we reluctantly returned to our feral campsite for dinner. Like Apt, they had an area under cover where you could cook and eat but unlike Apt, it was just a shed. Literally, a tin roof shed with a concrete floor, mostly open sides, a couple of dusty tables and broken wooden chairs like you have in primary school. So we cooked our gnocchi in pesto on one of the tables, trying to ignore all the unfriendly Italian campers around and just wanting to get to bed. We discovered you needed to pay for the hot showers, and I discovered I felt very unsafe in the open stall design. (Thank goodness for unisex cubicles so I could take my bodyguard with me, celeb-style.) After we’d finally gone to bed, the family in the terrace down below us decided it was time to have a party, and cranked up the music. They had babies and small children so I didn’t think it would take too long before they retired, but I guess Italian babies are ragers because it felt like the party went forever. Needless to say we were not impressed with Italian camping style. Compared to the quiet, introverted French experience, it was not very pleasant at all. Who builds a campsite next to the Mediterranean with no beach access? Craziness.
The next day we had our breakfast in the shed and then it started to rain. So it took a while for us to get our tent and everything packed up, although we did watch in awe as one girl managed to pull her entire tent into the shed and pack it all up herself in about five minutes. Finally we were ready to hit the road; given our awful experience the day before we decided to just get on the motorway and get to Pisa. We took a wrong turn initially and ended up winding our way up a tiny road to a hilltop village; it was very picturesque with the amazing views across the ocean but also rather nerve-racking with the tight corners and blind spots. Finally we found our way and got onto the motorway with no close calls. But unfortunately the motorway didn’t really prove much faster than the secondary roads; the traffic was still appalling but made easier by the fact that we decided to do as all the other bikers were doing and use the centre line as an extra lane. Due to our bigger size we couldn’t do that all the time but sitting in the sun in full gear breathing in all those car fumes was just unbearable. We passed what seemed like a neverending sprawl of beige housing spread over green hillsides and I was wondering why anyone would ever choose to live near the Mediterranean. It looked horribly crowded and dull, even with that gorgeous blue ocean in the distance. The best thing about the Italian motorway was how removed it was from the rest of the roads, being so high and giving such great views.
The traffic got a little easier in the afternoon and we managed to get all the way to Pisa. We had a disappointing stop in Lucca first, where we failed to find a campsite or a tourist office or even somewhere to park, so in the end we decided to push on to Pisa. We were very lucky and saw a sign to camping very quickly; the campsite was huge and very well-kept. You could probably call it a holiday resort. There were more rules than we were used to, including having to get them our passport, and it was super expensive, but there was also a pool and a pizza restaurant on-site. Once we got the tent set up we went for a little walk into town to try and find the leaning tower. It was less than a kilometre away so it wasn’t difficult to find. Although the walk was slightly marred by so many people trying to sell us stuff, once we got to the square with the tower we were absolutely blown away. Here was the reminder we needed as to why we loved Italy last time, and why we’d taken the effort to get there this time. The tower was breathtaking; it really was leaning. The photos do not do it justice. And even without the tower, the square had other buildings, beautiful, austere, impressive buildings that were enough to see on their own. It really was the perfect antidote to our difficult couple of days in Italy; we were so glad we’d made the time to get off the motorway and see something beautiful.
We tried to go to the supermarket to buy dinner items; we stood in front of the glass doors with a very obvious sign saying it closed at 8pm. It was 7:40pm, and very clearly closed. This was not an isolated experience in Italy but at the time it was very frustrating. So we went back to the campsite and went to the on-site restaurant for pizza and beer. The receptionist had given us a brochure for a campsite company that owned the one we were in; we agreed that due to our unpleasant experience the night before we would stick to this company from now on as much as we could. They were expensive but it certainly beat the concentration camp we’d been in the night before. So over dinner we used the brochure to plan out the rest of our time in Italy, including two nights in Rome and some time on the Adriatic coast. It was an odd feeling to be more in control of our destinations and have an idea of where we wanted to camp, but Italy was proving to be so challenging we decided it was the way to go.
The plan for the next day was a quick trip through Tuscany, finishing up in Rome in time to meet with Toby’s boss Bob and his family for dinner. The weather was terrible, something we’d gotten used to, so although some parts of Tuscany were quite pretty, for the most part we were looking at low grey clouds. The traffic remained fairly heavy, with lots of campervans trundling about, and we also had our closest call when a little while Fiat hooned onto the motorway and immediately tried to overtake without realising we were in the other lane. Luckily being on a bike we had more room to get out of their way than if we’d been in a car; but I still managed a little squeal that reverberated inside my helmet and I did give the guy a rude gesture as we sped away from them. We got to Rome okay but as we started circling the city, we ran into some issues. The camping brochure had instructions for how to find the campsite but the instructions assumed you were coming down the A1 from Florence, which is what we’d intended but failed to do.
So somehow we ended up riding in circles around the centre of Rome. Yes, that was as scary as it sounds. No, I wouldn’t recommend it. Yes, sometimes I thought I was going to die. Yes, it was hot and frustrating and we had no idea where we were going. Then we thought we’d finally cracked it; we’d found the ring road and would soon be on our way. But no; instead we ended up in a sterile factory outlet retail park. Starving. And hot. We’d been ‘in Rome’ for two hours, and were no closer to finding anything. At this point we decided it was time to get out the GPS, so we did that and put the campsite address in; thank goodness we had an idea of where we wanted to camp at least. Otherwise I am sure we would have ended up in a dodgy, expensive Roman hotel.
Finally, thanks to the GPS we found our campsite on the outskirts of Rome by the Tiber river. It was much like the one in Pisa; huge and with lots of facilities. It had a real hostel feel about it with lots of young American college students running around. They also had rock and pop music playing in the bathrooms, and a beer garden and a pool. Oh, and a laundry. When you are touring on a bike, a laundry is a godsend. We decided that as we were spending two nights there and needed a good rest and somewhere safe for our bike gear, we would hire a cabin for the time. It wasn’t a full cabin with a kitchen but it had two proper beds and a little ensuite bathroom which was certainly more comfortable than a tent. Once we were settled we got in touch with Bob and got directions to find where he was staying and then off we set on our journey into Rome. This involved taking a bus from the campsite to the train station, then getting on the train into Rome. Then it was the metro, and then we had to find a bus from the metro. We couldn’t figure out how to buy a bus ticket so Toby rang Bob; he said just get on and he would pay the fine if necessary. Luckily that wasn’t necessary, and we managed to get off the bus at the right stop and only took one wrong turn before Bob found us wandering the streets.
It was a strange thing to see a familiar face in such an unfamiliar place; we had a warm greeting from Bob and then he took us up to his daughter’s apartment where his family had gathered for dinner. They were all very lovely and welcomed us to their night, which started with bubbly and some delicious Italian-style nibbles at the apartment and then moved to a neighbourhood trattoria down the street. Bob’s daughter works for DFAT and she and her husband had been living in Rome several months, although they were being sent home a few weeks later. It was great to have some Italian speakers in the group as they could talk to the waiters for us. We had some lovely wine and perfect, simple pasta. For dessert I shared a tiramisu with Bob’s sister-in-law; it was one of the yummiest things I have ever had. It was such a great night and really refreshing to spend time in a nice restaurant with pleasant people we could actually converse with. Conscious of the fact we had a long drive back to the campsite we left fairly early to get a cab and snuggled into our nice cabin, full and sleepy and looking forward to our day off.
Finally, thanks to the GPS we found our campsite on the outskirts of Rome by the Tiber river. It was much like the one in Pisa; huge and with lots of facilities. It had a real hostel feel about it with lots of young American college students running around. They also had rock and pop music playing in the bathrooms, and a beer garden and a pool. Oh, and a laundry. When you are touring on a bike, a laundry is a godsend. We decided that as we were spending two nights there and needed a good rest and somewhere safe for our bike gear, we would hire a cabin for the time. It wasn’t a full cabin with a kitchen but it had two proper beds and a little ensuite bathroom which was certainly more comfortable than a tent. Once we were settled we got in touch with Bob and got directions to find where he was staying and then off we set on our journey into Rome. This involved taking a bus from the campsite to the train station, then getting on the train into Rome. Then it was the metro, and then we had to find a bus from the metro. We couldn’t figure out how to buy a bus ticket so Toby rang Bob; he said just get on and he would pay the fine if necessary. Luckily that wasn’t necessary, and we managed to get off the bus at the right stop and only took one wrong turn before Bob found us wandering the streets.
It was a strange thing to see a familiar face in such an unfamiliar place; we had a warm greeting from Bob and then he took us up to his daughter’s apartment where his family had gathered for dinner. They were all very lovely and welcomed us to their night, which started with bubbly and some delicious Italian-style nibbles at the apartment and then moved to a neighbourhood trattoria down the street. Bob’s daughter works for DFAT and she and her husband had been living in Rome several months, although they were being sent home a few weeks later. It was great to have some Italian speakers in the group as they could talk to the waiters for us. We had some lovely wine and perfect, simple pasta. For dessert I shared a tiramisu with Bob’s sister-in-law; it was one of the yummiest things I have ever had. It was such a great night and really refreshing to spend time in a nice restaurant with pleasant people we could actually converse with. Conscious of the fact we had a long drive back to the campsite we left fairly early to get a cab and snuggled into our nice cabin, full and sleepy and looking forward to our day off.
The next day dawned bright and sunny and – shockingly – stayed that way. Our first day without rain. We had breakfast at the little outdoor table setting on the concrete outside our cabin and then got the bus to the train station. Then the train into Rome. This time we decided to walk from the station since it was a part of Rome we hadn’t seen before, although we intended to re-visit a few of our favourite places from the last time. The first exciting thing that happened was we came across a movie set in a piazza; we looked around hoping to see a famous face but unfortunately it was an Italian movie and we didn’t know anyone. We had to wait a bit while they shot a scene of people crossing the street and then we could cross through and find THE MOST AMAZING SHOE SHOP I HAVE EVER SEEN. Words do not do that shop justice. They had lots of signs saying no photos so I have no proof of it, but I did spend a fair bit of time looking in the windows, mouth open. They had a sales rack of shoes for the bargain price of 99 euros and I almost certainly would have bought a pair and shipped them home if I had found some that I liked, and that fit my wide white girl feet. Unfortunately none of them fit the bill so we had to leave it at that.
The rest of the day we spent doing some more window-shopping; visiting the Trevi fountain and Piazza Navona; looking at the Forum from the walkway above and the Colosseum from the outside; eating gelato and listening to street performers. It was a glorious day of sunshine and nice food and we definitely tried to enjoy every minute we were spending not on a bike. We bought some dinner things at the supermarket to take back with us; when we got back to the campsite we put our swimmers on and went to the pool but it was cooling off by then so we just relaxed with our book/DS Lite before cooking. We also took the opportunity to do some laundry even though it was a total rip-off that cost 9 euro. It was worth it to get all of our clothes clean which they hadn’t been since we left Oxford.
In the morning we packed up the bike again and decided to try and find our way without the GPS, since we were so close to the ring road we couldn’t possibly get lost. Ha ha. We were proved wrong but this time, instead of riding in circles for two hours we pulled into a petrol station and got the GPS out to help us get to the highway. Our aim for the day was to reach Pescara on the Adriatic coast, and then move a little further north to find a campsite listed in the brochure. Once we were out of Rome and heading along the highway through Abruzzo, we started falling in love with Italy again. The mountain scenery was spectacular and the traffic was non-existent; we started wondering why anyone would spend weeks campervanning in Tuscany with hundreds of other people when there was this corner of the world just waiting to be explored. I believe this was also the day we discovered the amazing Italian motorway restaurants which were so much better than anything we’d seen before it defied belief. The variety of food was brilliant; it was all so fresh and simple. Bowls of salads and fruit, desserts, steaks they’d cook you on the spot, hot pasta and gnocchi dishes, fresh bread – it was fantastic although we found it strange that also on offer was beer and wine. At this point I was avoiding meat and I never had trouble finding anything to eat at those places. The other interesting thing was watching these burly Italian men tucking into their salads, and their fruit; you would never see that at a rest stop in Australia and it made me realise just how seriously they take their food there.
Our reason for going to Pescara was that back when we were planning our overseas adventure, we had initially thought we might go to Italy for a year. We weren’t sure we could handle Rome but after some research on real estate and jobs we ended up looking more at Pescara. So we wanted to visit and see what we would have been doing, had I not gotten cold feet and declared we needed to go to an English-speaking country instead. Pescara was quite nice; it had a very different feel to other Italian cities we’d been to. It was very flat, and had a chilled, coasty vibe about it. We went for a walk through an outdoor mall to the beach and then strolled along the esplanade, stopping for some gelato (of course) before going back to the bike. We weren’t far away from our campsite but it was late-ish on a Friday afternoon and the traffic on the main road up the coast was horrendous. It took us a long time to get up to Guilianova, but we found our site eventually. At least I think we did; there were three big holiday resorts all in a row and it was difficult figuring out which one we wanted. In the end it probably didn’t matter as they all looked very similar. We pulled in next to the front office (which was really a big house on a hill) and were promptly tucked into a golf buggy and whisked around the corner by a chatty old Italian man. He showed us two different spots and then delivered us back to the front office to book in for the night. It was rather an odd ritual especially as the spots he showed us were so close to where we’d been and we could have easily walked. Anyway we got settled in for the night and then went for a walk to find some food and the beach. The beach was ‘private’ for that resort and covered with sun lounges and umbrellas, which we’d come to expect. The water was nice and warm but we weren’t quite up to swimming at that point so instead we got some dinner things from the on-site supermarket and went back to our tent. I have memories of it beginning to rain at that point, and needing to wait until it eased off before we could venture out and cook our dinner in the dark.
The next morning we were eating our breakfast – standing up by the tent as usual – when a man came over from his campervan nearby and gave us two little folding chairs, and a table. We were quite overwhelmed by his generosity; he said we could ask for them anytime. They were a Dutch couple on an extended holiday complete with bicycles strapped to the back of the van (a very Dutch thing to do) and were heading off on a trip through the mountains that day. It was a much more comfortable breakfast than what we were used to.
We decided not to go very far that day; we were enjoying the Adriatic coast and considering the traffic we’d had the previous day we weren’t sure how far we’d get anyway. So we just went a couple of hundred kilometres up the coast towards Ancona and turned off just beforehand to try and find our campsite (listed in the brochure of course). Being us we got hungry before we got to that point so we stopped at a beachside restaurant for some food. It was a bit more upmarket than what we’d been aiming for, plus we were almost the only ones there (except for a few people who seemed to be related to the waitress), but we persevered and got a table out on the verandah right on the beach. This sounds very peaceful and it should have been, except for the gigantic crane right in front of us that was moving sand from its tray into the water. No idea what that was about. We got charged for the basket of bread they put on the table and our food (gnocchi for me, calamari for Toby) was very salty and didn’t come with any vegetables which would have been nice. Anyway. We were fed.
We ventured further down the esplanade, past more restaurants and ‘private’ beaches, thinking how different it was to the Australian way where the restaurants are on one side of the road and the beach is on the other, open to everyone and none of this ‘exclusively for members’ business. Considering how much beach they have, it seemed so silly to make it so difficult to access. We found our campsite at the end of a road and the girl at the front office gave us a map to show us their two available spaces for tents. This was the craziest campsite I have ever seen. It seemed to be full of long termers, who would park their van in a site and take up a neighbouring site with tarpaulin roofs and entire outdoor settings. It looked like a refugee camp with the number of temporary structures they had set up. It was unbelievably crowded. Of the two sites we were directed to, one was just a corner of grass where the bike would barely fit and the other was in the middle of lots of other vans. There were no people around so it was difficult to tell what we were getting ourselves in for. Considering we were hoping to spend more than one night here, we weren’t awfully impressed but decided we could probably live with it considering what we’d got last time we’d tried to be picky.
So we went back to the office and told the girl which spot we’d take; then we said we noticed the front gate was shut (we’d parked outside and walked through a hedge) and how would we get the bike in? It was then she told us we couldn’t actually check in for another hour or so. Just one of those things which makes sense in a hotel but less so at a campsite with three staff currently on duty. It didn’t take us long to decide we didn’t love the idea of hanging around in our full bike gear, so we thanked her and went on our way. As we left the road they were on, we noticed their ‘private beach’ and assumed we could have waited there until check in time. I don’t know why the girl didn’t tell us that; she could have saved the sale. Anyway. We found another campsite that was more expensive but far less crowded, and lovely and shady too. Its beach access was direct (underpass beneath the main road) and there was a shop and restaurant on site. So there we stayed. We set the tent up under some trees and headed down to the beach which was awfully rocky. The water was cooler than it had been further south but we still managed a swim. The annoying thing was that we were very thirsty and the camp shop was shut so Toby had to go off in search of a drink. In such a popular spot in Australia you wouldn’t have to go far to find a takeaway of some kind, but he really struggled and ended up with a bottle of sprite from one of the fancy restaurants. The strange thing about it was the number of men trying to sell random stuff on the beach, like jewellery or sunglasses or melons. If one of them sold bottles of water I think they might find they do better business. Anyway. For dinner we had pizza in the restaurant on site and the waiter made me try some kind of Italian aperitif at the end which was kind of gross. We went to bed looking forward to our peaceful campsite only to be kept awake for hours by what I assume was a rave happening in the next paddock over. It was amazing how loud it was and how long it went on for. Not happy Jan.
Our sleep was further disrupted the next morning by a guy deciding to edge the grass at 8am. Not sure why it couldn’t wait. Not sure why he was edging perfectly short grass especially when it meant we got little rocks being ricocheted onto our tent. Not fun. It was during this frustrating time when Toby realised he felt ill. Really, really ill. I got him back into the tent and we tried to figure out what to do. Eventually I went to the office and asked about the bungalows they had; she took me to see one and it was a very simple cube, with half taken up by a wee kitchen and sofa, and the other half split into a double bedroom and a bathroom. It also had a verandah, with table and chairs. There was nothing luxurious about it at all but it looked perfect to give Toby a proper rest away from the edge clippers, and me the space to do other things. So I booked it for that night (even though her boss didn’t want a single night booking on a weekend – she was nice and lied to him for me, they were hardly at capacity and we’d already stayed one night so it seemed a bit mean to me) and set out moving Toby into the bed and then packing up the tent. On my own. Which I did just fine. And it was here we spent the next two days, Toby drifting in and out of sleep and me making use of the laptop and enjoying having a kitchen to cook proper meals for a change. We booked a second night in the end as Toby still wasn’t up to riding and it seemed silly to push ourselves when we had such a good spot set up. I was very worried about Toby especially being so far away from a hospital, unable to speak the language and unable to use our own transport, but luckily he got better through rest and panadol. We kept saying if he could just hold on until we got to Austria, where we had greater faith in the medical system. Once he was feeling better, we could enjoy where we were a bit more and went for some walks along the beach and a swim in the pool. If we had to get stuck anywhere, I’m glad it was there with the little bungalow and the English-speaking staff. Unfortunately they didn’t have a clothes dryer (only a washing machine) but that was their only fault. I think I may also have made friends with the family who ran the little shop; at least they were always very nice to me even the woman when I inadvertently got her to pick up a gigantic block of cheese to cut me a slice. None of them really spoke English so it was always interesting trying to order things from the deli or ask for bread. It was fun though.
Finally on the fourth day we decided we were ready to leave so we packed up the bike and headed towards Bologna (brochure again). It took a few hours, including a stop at another fantastic motorway restaurant, and we managed to find the campsite without any problems. It was more like the Rome or Pisa campsites, well set out with lots of facilities (including a laundry, yay). Once we got set up there we got the local bus which stopped in the carpark into town. Bologna took us by surprise I think; it was a very trendy place, full of expensive shops and people dressed in beautiful clothes (I even saw one lady sailing down the street on her bicycle, hot pink pashmina blowing in the wind behind her). The buildings and public squares were lovely too. We bought some dinner items at a supermarket and then got the bus back to the campsite where we went to the bar for a beer. The European Cup was on (which we hadn’t realised) so there were lots of people at the bar watching the game which was France vs Croatia I think. I expect it was the nearest bar for miles for the people living in that part of Bologna, as we were surrounded by fields.
In the morning we decided to go back into Bologna; Toby had done some internet research and decided his illness was due to worms, and I needed a new book to read. We tried one pharmacy where the resident English speaker had no idea what he was saying, even when he tried saying it in the Italian he’d gotten off the internet. I kept telling him to draw a picture. In the end she figured out ‘tapeworm’ but said she couldn’t help us as you needed a prescription for it. Slightly disheartened we left that shop and went in search of books. We found another pharmacy on the way and went in; the resident English speaker there did know what we were talking about so we were given some drugs (even though Toby thought those were the drugs he’d read about on the net as being outdated) and were very much relieved. I also managed to find some English books in the second bookshop we tried; it was called ‘The Road’ by Cormac McCarthy and the reason I mention it is that it’s one of the best books I have ever read and I highly recommend it.
After that early morning adventure we went back to the campsite and packed up. It was turning into a really hot day at this point so we tried to hurry and then got onto the motorway, headed for Verona. Our handy brochure didn’t have anything listed as being in Verona, but I googled ‘camping in Verona’ and came up with an address so we knew we wouldn’t be stuck. The ride to Verona was very quick until just before we hit the city limits, and then we were forced to cut between the traffic again. A police car had passed us earlier and we were wondering if they cared about bikes snaking through traffic; the answer is no. We got into Verona and the GPS helped us find the campsite but only to a point. We had to climb up a very steep hill overlooking the city, and we did see a sign for camping but no obvious driveway so we kept going and ended up at Castel San Pietro, a massive building on top of the hill. The views over Verona were absolutely incredible, but we did need somewhere to stay so we ventured back down the road again and finally found the entrance to the campsite, which was tiny and just an opening in a fence really. Compared to the big holiday resorts we’d been in so far, the Verona campsite was very different. It was started around 100 years ago by a botanist, so it was full of interesting plants with little signs on them. It had very old city walls running through the campsite too, which was more a series of terraces set into the hillside than anything else. The first terrace, which you drove straight into from the road, was rather crowded but included a huge paved area with lounge chairs and the most wonderful views over the city. From there you walked down a very steep cobbled driveway to the next level, which had the reception building (also the shop, toilets and showers), a covered area with the sinks, and another paved area where the views weren’t so good but there was lots of tables and chairs set amongst potted plants. The girl in reception spoke very good English and explained all the rules to us and then showed us where we could camp. Unfortunately because they were a bit crowded and they were ‘saving’ the spots on the first terrace, our only option was a small patch of grass beneath the sinks area, and only a couple of metres away from the reception. We weren’t thrilled with the position but we loved the site and wanted to explore Verona so we were sold. Toby had been wanting to deal with some bank issues and the girl in the office was kind enough to allow him to print some documents and then the next day we were also able to use their fax machine. Small actions like those really made a difference for us on the trip.
We spent some time that afternoon exploring the nearest parts of Verona to us; the walk into town meant going back up the main road to San Pietro then following a set of stairs through some lovely, typical Italian houses, across the river and beneath an archway into a square where we found the best gelato we have ever had. It was a tiny shop with really interesting flavours like cinnamon, so we lined up along with all the locals and got ourselves some cones to eat on the bridge overlooking the water. One of those magical moments that made the more stressful times on the bike feel worthwhile. For dinner we picked up some things at a little supermarket and then headed back to the campsite where it promptly began to rain. And rain. And rain. And then hail. We were stuck inside our tent waiting for it to stop so we could cook our dinner, and hoping we weren’t going to wash away during the night. It wasn’t fun; when it stopped it was dark so we cooked our dinner in the sink area under the lights and ate quickly. The fun continued when someone forgot to turn off the big light outside reception when they left, so our tent was almost as bright as day all night. The noise coming from the reception area made our less than perfect position even more so.
In the morning after doing some banking and washing we decided to head back into town and find Juliet’s balcony, and visit the Arena. Of course it’s not really Juliet’s balcony, and of course we never managed to find it (realised later it was closed) but the walking around was fun and you could certainly imagine Romeo & Juliet running around those streets getting themselves into all kinds of mischief. It is a really romantic place.
We got swept up with all the tourists walking through the centre of town towards the Arena but managed to escape them for some lunch on a little side street where I ate my first spinach and ricotta pizza and we got charged for some bread sticks we didn’t order. Love those scams. After lunch we went to the Arena and decided to pay some money for an attraction since we’d come all that way and hadn’t visited the Colosseum in Rome. We ended up being glad we went in, even though we’d seen more impressive theatres in Turkey; part of what was so interesting was they were getting ready for opera season and we could watch them deal with a gigantic head and two matching hands on the stage.
For dinner we visited some nice deli places on our way back to the campsite, buying olive tapenade and bread and some cheese and other things. Well we had intended to just go to the supermarket but we had another typical Italian experience of being there at a time that said open on their sign, but they weren’t at all. Unfortunately the cheese ended up being out of date but we enjoyed the other parts of our dinner, sitting on the terrace. And we enjoyed our second visit to the amazing gelato shop as well. We couldn’t leave without going there again. I remember having a quieter night without the lights left on, and it didn’t rain at all that day which was lucky as we really needed our tent to dry out before we went anywhere.
The next morning as we were packing up we had a good chat to another Aussie guy who was there with his missus on a motorbike tour. They had much grander plans than us, including getting up to Sweden and Norway, and weren’t sure when they’d be going home. He had a German passport I think so was thinking of finding work; we were sure to recommend Edinburgh as a good option. They had brought their bike over with them; I’m not sure Toby approved of doing that given it was a Harley but it was good to share some common experiences (including the gelato) and know that we weren’t the only insane people out there on a bike. And then we were on our way out of Verona, heading north for Austria.
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