Day 7: Ancona to Salerno

 Audrey and I are always passively jealous of 'breakfast eaters'- you know, those people who cheerfully wake up at 6am to do a session of yoga and a run before making their own granola and still getting into the office first (Ruth Cole/ Ashley Johnson, I'm looking at you).

So when we both randomly woke onboard the ferry at 6am, we scrambled up to the top to see the sun rise over the sea, enjoying the smug feeling of being the only ones up and experiencing breakfast-eater status, while everyone else slept. We then went hunted through several decks and stepped over many snoozing travellers to find where actual breakfast was being served.

Docked in Ancona

Always the most important meal of the day as far as I'm concerned - I piled up a bowl of cereal, several pieces of toast and spreads, some orange juice, a cup of tea, half the platter of cold meats and cheeses, and scooped up a boiled egg for good measure. Audrey was a little more restrained, a cup of tea with toast and jam apparently sufficed. Apparently we still hadn't gotten up early enough though so I didn't quite manage to get it all down before the ferry pulled into dock. We pieced together some ham and cheese sangas from the leftovers and I carefully tucked the egg into a pocket for later. Yum.We raced back to our room to shove everything in our bags and charge off into the second country of our trip - ITALY.

Unfortunately not our hire car...

Once in Ancona port, we wandered around to every bus station looking for our connection to the airport, where we could collect our car. Fortunately Audrey dug up some long-lost Italian skills and we got directions - straight back to the first one we had tried. We hopped on, bought our biglietti (which no one checked) and 15 minutes later arrived at the train station to get our next bus... just to see it pulling out in front of us. D'oh!

The next bus wasn't for another hour. Audrey went inside to check alternatives, but the only other option was a train which didn't come until lunchtime. Useless. In any case, I thought it would be an opportune moment to enjoy a slightly smushed boiled egg. Apparently there is now a Japanese tourist running around Italy somewhere with a picture of me blissfully enjoying that egg. Audrey discreetly chose a seat a few yards away.

VW Up! - We christened him Oopi...

True to schedule, our bus arrived an hour later, and we got out at a pokey little airport to collect our mighty steed and a quick cappuccino. Apart from a few cautionary lane reminders, and some accidental deployment of windscreen wipers at the first few roundabouts, I quickly got the hang of driving on the wrong side. We were off to Salerno.

I should mention at this point that the tightarse in me had decided it would be much better to go for a downloaded iPad nav program instead of a proper GPS (at 12 Euros a day ... yeah right!). It's iffy at best, and we ended up in some interesting places, including a pre-medieval town in the hills called Campolattare (about 10 miles past our intended turn off), which we ended up exploring on foot. We heard a tiny man singing a gorgeous operetta in his living room, Audrey fed a few stray cats and bought some surprisingly tasty potato chips before returning to our trek.

We finally arrived in Salerno about 12 hours after disembarking in Ancona, the trusty navagatrix having been
generally quite reliable. We plugged in the address of our new hosts, and things started well as it confidently instructed us through numerous dodgy intersections. It took us right into the heart of the city, and it was our first real encounter of Italian driving 'rules' - basically if the car fits, you can go there. Judging by the scrapes and busted lights on pretty much every vehicle, Italians might not have the best spacial comprehension.

And when I say the heart of the city, I mean like the left atrium of the heart of the city. We ended up and down alleys where we had to flip in both side mirrors and edge along in first gear while the pedestrians decided whether to have another lick of the gelato before getting out of the way.  We squeezed our little VW past old men playing chess and ladies gossiping over limoncello, they all regarded us with mild indifference as we crawled through the sidewalks, I have no idea how we got around half those corners. Turning around was not an option, so we ploughed on through. A distinct burst of excitement when we spotted another car doing the same thing. Hardened local or another lost tourist, didn't matter.

Then, in the middle of an alley, between a sidewalk cafe and a stall selling knock-off handbags, our little navagatory assistant loudly and proudly announced "You have reached your destination"! We both just looked at each other and laughed. Where to now?!

Fonzies = Twisties ?!

At each corner we gambled on left or right, hoping it was a throughway. Finally we came to a small square with a few other parked cars and squeezed in next to the tables of the pizzeria. While fending off the proprietor with the internationally recognised "just one moment" index-finger raised in the air, we put through a rescue call to our host Mimma who quickly dispatched her husband Nunzio to assist.

About 5 minutes later, he arrived and looked suitably impressed and surprised we had managed to find our way to the inner-sanctum of Salerno. He also informed us that only locals are allowed in and there is a hefty fine for being where we were! We quickly took our bags from the car, hefted them to our new lodgings then I returned with Nunzio to park it securely a short drive away.  Fortunately it was neither ticketed nor towed by the time we came back.


Audrey stayed and chatted with Mimma and their three year old son while I moved the car. Young Francesco apparently did his part to keep her on track, yelling 'NO INGLESE' and stamping his feet if she slipped into English. Good thing I wasn't sticking around for a chinwag, little brat would have had pretty sore feet by the time I was done. No parlo Italiano.

Yum Yum Octopus Bum

The house was beautiful and ancient, and our room was filled with original art and full length French windows. Mimma and Nunzio seemed a bit cool and distant, so we went out for some pasta and walked the promenade by the water. It was blues night at The Kant, a classy establishment if I ever saw one, and the strains of Sweet Home Alabama just barely drowned out by the delightful symphony of car horns.

Exhausted after a long day, we arrived back at the apartment and retreated to our room. Unfortunately no air-conditioning and no fan meant our only means of (limited) ventilation was to leave the window open. It would seem that this was an invitation for all blind drunk Salernoans to gather under our window to sing and fight. As I gazed out and around through the window I noticed directly four-floors below us a sidewalk cafe and a stall selling knockoff handbags. Touche, iNav ... touche.

Tomorrow ... the Amalfi coast!