Day 17: Levanto to Venezia via Fugazzolo di Sopra

Another delicious and filling breakfast to start the day. We packed our bags in earnest for the long road ahead. We had just got everything sorted when Auds noticed that one of our kobos (I refused to buy a kindle for the same inexplicable reason I wholeheartedly despise apple) was missing. The room was basically empty, and neither of us had packed them. Brief panic. Standard annoying question - where did you last have it? Retracing our steps we remembered having it at the cafe for dinner the night before. Unable to find a contact number we had to drop by and see if some kindly soul had handed it in.

So we returned to Bonassola, only a 45 minute walk, but probably a 25 minute drive given the slow and windy roads. Forethought probably would have suggested that my cycling there and back would be the most efficient approach, but we were both keen to get going so we jumped into the Oopi and wound our way to the scene of the crime.

Fortunately our waitress from the night before had collected the kobo while clearing the table. She didn't sound too impressed when we came asking for it though. I guess she thought we just been passing through and probably wouldnt see us again, would have been a nice little tip for her. We got back in the car and checked the with our navagatrix - 1.5 hours via autostrada or 2 hours taking the alternative route. Not in a hurry? Save some cash? Yes thanks.

Queueing in Bonassola. Awesome.

The most direct route was back to Levanto before heading inland, but of course nothing is ever that simple. We came across a closed intersection manned by the Carabinieri. The road is closed for the next hour. Not quite sure why, some sort of public event. If we'd been just five minutes earlier the road had been open. Dammit. So we turn around, again, head back up the road and find a quiet spot overlooking the town. Enjoying the view, we have a quick snack, read, catch up on some blogging, etc. 45 minutes later we head back for the closed road to find a massive queue, it was a relief at least  know why. Almost another hour later the road finally reopened, apparently a cycle race was on, but there were a lot of stragglers causing the delay. Hmm, maybe we should have taken the autostrada, we're a little more pressed for time now. 

Also this insane fog and black clouds had rolled in, making the twisty mountain roads almost invisible. Safe. 

Ten minutes later we were in it...

Auds overriding the occasional instruction we followed the roads through towns that basically consisted of a cafe and a house. Cafe wasn't open of course, it was perpetual siesta. Eventually we reached Fugazzolo,  Audrey's ancestral italian homeland. The streets weren't really wide enough for a car to pass through; and although that hadnt stopped us in Salerno we decided not to push our luck and parked just outside the village. Set on a hill in the middle of what seemed like a rather panoramic nowhere, the place seemed to stop and stare when we ambled through looking distinctly non-local. We spent an hour or so walking around (probably in circles) admiring the quaintness and isolation of the small town.

I think I see it ...

Fugazzolo !!

We visited the church where we think Auds' great-grandparents were married, and the cemetery where there only seemed to be about three different surnames in the whole place. Old men with pipes stood in the middle of the street, chatting idly and regarding us carefully. I think at some point we wandered into someone's backyard, and somehow stumbled upon the only person in town who actually spoke English.

It turned out that Karina had spent most of her life in Switzerland, hence the language proficiency, but had returned to Fugazzolo in her retirement. She asked if she could help (ie, why were we in her yard) and we tried to explain we were looking for someone who may have known or remembered any of Aud's relatives.

Auds great grandmother had left for New York alone as an indentured servant in her teens, returning some years later for her childhood sweetheart, and they married and sailed together back to New York. There were undoubtedly many branches of that family tree still in the Fugazzolo hills though.

Thanks for your help, Karina :)

Karina's reaction and the ensuing ten minutes had to be witnessed to be believed, and was quite a surreal experience. She led us to a nearby house and started rattling on one of the windows calling Maria! Maria!!, all the while asking us for more details of Auds bisnonna Margherita. Husbands name, age, etc. Maria didn't show but another old woman threw open the shutters on her second story window and got involved, then the priest and his granddaughter came by, before half a dozen more locals popped out. Thirteen in all, standing in this tiny little village street. True story. None of them remembered Margherita (not unexpected, she was born in 1885) but they were all happy to talk at once about how they didn't know, and ask multiple times if we were sure her name was not Maria? Periodically, the woman leaning out her window would shout Aspetta!! (Wait) as if she had remembered something. She would then pause dramatically and say no, no, no. No Margherita. 

We thanked them all, said goodbye to Karina, and wandered through the cemetery before heading off.

I would have killed for a chicken parma at this stage...

We then took a few more pictures and headed for Venice. Well, more specifically, Mogliano Veneto, the cheaper town inland where you can stay if you don't have 300 to spend on housing each night. Mogliano Veneto is also apparently quite popular for its nightlife, as we learned when driving in, casually passing multiple ladies of the night, easily distinguishable by their bright stilettos, microscopic skirts, etc. 

Our feeling of comfort only increased as we drove up to our destination, which looked like this. 

On the bright side, as advertised, they serve Italian, Chinese and Japanese cuisine, sometimes in fusion. Great. We were too exhausted to brave the prossies, so we braved the food instead. Fifteen minutes later, Auds came up with a dubious tray of what looked like 4 alien shrimp still with heads and swimming in watery juice, small pile of minced chicken and salted cabbage. Everything was swimming in salt. We were so hungry we ate it all anyway, and passed out-- door locked. One point was regained for having a nice shower though. 

Day 16: La Spezia and Bonassola

Although still yet to come across a bed that was long enough for my feet to not hang off the end, the sleeping arrangements at Grazia's agriturismo are certainly amongst the best we have experienced so far. Hard to believe but I think my top two are currently the Jadrolinija ferry bunk, and then Zeljko's converted couch. Grazia's probably manages third place. In any case, all that to say the relatively comfy bed, in addition to the quiet countryside location made it easy to sleep in this morning. We came down to breakfast after everyone had apparently already been and gone. One table was still neatly set, so we helped ourselves to the (still ample) remaining cereal, bread homemade cake, and fruit. Great breakfast here, and I think my favourite so far.

We sat in the dining area for an hour or so after eating to catch up on some blogging, some emails, schedule in some more accommodation for the coming weeks, general life and trip admin. We have got quite a few couch-surfing options locked in now and really excited to meet these people and spend a few days with them. AirBNB is great for finding somewhere to stay, but I think the real life and flavour of travel will come from couch-surfing. These are people who are actively interested in hosting and spending time with fellow travellers, not for the sake of the money or a livelihood, but because of a genuine passion for the world outside their own existence. It remains to be seen whether I eat those words at a later date, but as of right now, we are both really excited about the next phase of our trip when we will bounce around some middle- and eastern-European countries. But more on that later, for now we still have a handful of days in sun-soaked Italy.

We finally get ourselves out the door a little after twelve, and make plans to catch the train through the five towns for which the Cinque Terre is known, and down to La Spezia. From there we could catch a bus to Porto Venere. It's a ten-minute walk to Levanto train station, and in rather standard fashion we arrive just as the train has left. 35 minutes until the next departure! We buy our tickets and commence thumb-twiddling. Actually we are both nearing the ends of our current books so we are quite happy to stay put and flip a few pages.


Our train shows up, and we are looking forward to our coast-hugging journey through this stunning piece of coastline. We quickly realise the reality of the situation – the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. A rather unfortunate practical example of that rather delightful axiom is that pretty much our entire journey consisted of tunnels burrowed through the hills between the towns. The most scenic thing on that journey was when an overweight gent exposed his disturbingly hirsute gluteal bifurcation while retrieving a fallen suitcase from the floor in front of us. We bury ourselves in our books once more.


We jump off the train in La Spezia excited for the rest of our day. Following Grazia's suggestion we decide on a wander through the old town and along the promenade before catching our bus to Porto Venere. Maybe we picked a bad street, maybe it was because everyone was on siesta (or whatever the Italian equivalent may be), but neither of us found it particularly La Speziale at all. A bunch of closed shops (most were open 9am-12pm and then 5pm-9pm or something like that), a bunch of dodgy gelatarias and pizzerias, and a recently closed fish market. The place looked and smelled great. The giant seagulls enjoyed it anyway.


Thoroughly nonplussed by the old town we pushed on for the promenade but we found that equally disappointing. It was a harbour and a port from all we could see, lots of docks, marinas and piers. Nowhere to sit an enjoy the sun, breeze and beach. Maybe we missed the good stuff, if someone has been please tell me where we went wrong?! We decided to cut our losses and headed back to the station. I very confidently read the departures schedule and announced that we required platform 4, and a train would be along in five minutes.


Fifteen minutes later we began to think maybe the train wasn't coming. Finally my pride gave way and Audrey found a flirty elderly station assistant to inform us that our particular train wasn't running today. No, he said, it didn't say that on the schedule, it's just not running today. Great. Oh, the train we really should have taken, well that had already been and gone on platform 2. Great. Next one? 32 minutes... Great. So, noses back in books again, getting really close to the end now.


We board the next train, through all the tunnels again, past Levanto to the next town on the other side. Audrey finished her book five minutes before me (dammit) and started to harrass me, poking me and asking me what was happening. Dammit. Bonassola is a cute little town with a beach (is it still a beach if there's no sand?) and a few touristy restaurants. We pick our way along the beach, which is mostly roped-off 'private' sections in front of the various restaurants or hotels. They string a rope almost from the water's edge right up the beach to their establishment and apparently you're not allowed to set down in that bit. What a joke. Though of course we still tried. Anyway we get to the crowded, and very narrow, 'public' section of the pebbly beach and lay down our towels. Rugrats are running around on the stones and pebbles barefeet, but my delicate little tootsies require thongs all the way to the lapping waves. I slide them off and awkwardly hobble into the water.


Water temperature is nice, a little bracing upon entry and the initial breach of the sub-torso area causes a little yelp as usual but after that I plunge in and adjust quickly. It takes some coaxing but Auds also braves the waves and joins me. We paddle about for ten or twenty minutes before heading back to our towels to dry off in the sun. The next few hours pass uneventfully until we both start to get a little hungry, and the sun is stooping below the mountains so people around us are all packing their bags. We find a reasonable looking place and order a couple of drinks. They come with a rather generous (and salty) selection of peanuts, corn and potato chips, olives and a couple of small slices of cheesy foccacia with salsa. Jackpot.


Still peckish we order a couple of dishes and watch the interesting assortment of passers by. Before we know it the sun is long gone. We settle our bill and begin the hour-long walk home along a well patronized foot and cycle path between Bonassola and Levanto. Auds is inspired by the acoustics of the tunnel (yes, even the walkways are in tunnels) and belts out various titles much to the amusement and appreciation of our fellow tunnelgoers.


We make a final pitstop in Levanto for an icecream. I wouldn't normally consider this blogworthy, but it does set the scene for a rather amusing anecdote and one of my finest puns of the day. On the short walk through Levanto back to our Agriturismo, Auds stubbed her foot pretty badly on the concrete guttering and was in some pain, with no ice. She also wasn't enjoying the icecream much, so to alleviate the pain she stuck the ailing digit into what was left of the cone. A gelaTOE if you will.

You may have noticed a distinct lack of visual support to this particular entry, that's because we took bugger all photos today. All we have to share is this -

 Which I think might be what churches will look like once apple starts designing them.

And also this -

I have had some experience of posing in front of statues and trying to replicate their stances. This is unfortunately not one of my finer efforts, but it's all I can offer...

And with that, I bid you goodnight. We're off to Venice tomorrow after a short stopover in Fugazzolo, the birthplace of Audrey's great-grandmother.