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.

Day 15: Levanto to Monterosso hike

We woke up at Grazia's agriturismo and had a good breakfast of fresh granola, yogurt, jams, honeys and bread. When I went back up to brush my teeth, I could see the ponies and about eight of her 27 cats playing in the sun in the paddocks below. >Cue brief animal photo break.

Ok, that's all for now. The night before, Grazia had suggested we bypass the more touristy Cinque Terre (five coastal towns connected by famous hiking trails) and instead hike from our homebase in Levanto to neighboring Monterosso. She promised the same views, no tickets, and no crowds, which sounded great to us.

Unfortunately, once I started to get ready, I remembered that nearly all my clothes were in the wash. Unfortunate side effect of backpacking. After a quick rummage in Matt's backpack, I fished out his XL Superman tank top and decided it would have to work as a sort of hiking beach dress (nope, not a real thing), along with my tennis shoes and a plastic bag full of our towels, etc. Ready to go.

After a few wrong turns, we found our trail and set off. The trails were a bit rough but followable, and we came across very few other people during our three and a half hour hike up and down the mountain sides.

At various points, the trees would clear and we could see the clear blue sea veryyyy far below. We even saw the hovering boat I'd only ever seen in pics, where you can see the shadow of the boat in the water, it's so clear.

We hiked a few more hours and came across a couple of semi desperate Chinese hikers, who thought they were lost and had decided their best course of action would be to stop by the side of the trail and wait for hours until someone helpful came along -- jokes on them because their 'rescuers' were a big shirtless Aussie with a backpack on and a chatty girl in a superman shirt, not exactly the original trail blazers.

We just told them to keep going, couldn't be much further, right? At this point, being the experienced hikers we are, we had nearly finished all our water, and the day was getting even hotter. After nearly missing our turnoff, we came across one more scenic viewpoint (read, photo opp) and, victory achieved, began the descent into Monterosso, a cute beach side town.

We got some focaccias and beers, wandered and then took the train home (which took all of 5 minutes. Kid you not.) 

After much needed showers, we went into the town and got a few takeaway pizzas to eat on the beach. We then came across a dance lesson, where about 40 people were doing some traditional Italian synchronized dance in a square near the beach. Matt took some video of all the old guys trying to dance near the only girl under 45, then we ambled on for some gelato and home to Grazia's.

Day 14: Carmignano to Levanto via Vinci

We actually managed to set off reasonably early today, relatively speaking. We had a clean up and packed our bags before sharing another breakfast with our Belgian buddies. We traded stories from our previous days adventures over some more teacup cornflakes (there were no bowls, what else was I supposed to do?!)

 

We were taking a few final pictures before leaving when one of Isabella's daughters popped out. She asked if they could have a picture for their Facebook page. We weren't really prepared for a photoshoot but of course we obliged, and asked her to pass on our thanks to Isabella before we motored away. She also gave us a postcard painting of the area.

When I realized the town of Vinci was only a half hour away, and basically on our way anyway, of we had to make a stop there. Birthplace of the brilliant Leonardo, later in life he traveled and worked all over Italy. The small town had a smaller museum dedicated to him, and presumably a shrine at his house. The town didn't really have anything else, so you wouldn't expect it to be too hard to find ... right?

We saw one sign on the way in, and another ambiguous arrow just before the crossroad in the middle of town. We came from one direction, which left three options; one of those roads was closed which left us with two. We followed each for maybe a minute, which was more than enough to realize 

a) there were no further signs in that direction

b) we had left town again

Back to the crossroads again, and browsing through our offline maps we found a little detour around the closed fourth option. Snagging an empty parking spot and triple-checking for parking signs, we wander up the hill. Still no signs, but it had to be this way, eventually we found a small museum. Clearly I looked spritely and youthful that day as we managed a couple of student tickets again and poked around for an hour or so. That really was long enough to see everything. it was quite disappointing actually. I was hoping for some detail and some working models I could play with. No such joy. So a quick trip up the bell tower, right by the very place where young Leonardo was baptised, I took a few snaps from the rather scenic viewpoint and then stopped by the only open cafe in town for lunch before heading for the coast once more.

LdV's belltower

Looking out over Vinci

We had plenty of time, and opted to avoid the autostrada once more as we took some scenic backroads and lesser highways to our eventual destination of Levanto. Navagatrix capably led us to the small town of Levanto, just north of the famous Cinque Terre. We lost confidence once again when it proudly announced our destination to be a dilapidated and abandoned, smoked out house.

With no street names or numbers for reference, we asked a few kindly locals, and Auds did her best in Italian, but language seemed to be quite a barrier. A far as I could tell they kept saying this was the right street. Eventually we found someone who asked who the host was ... She recognized the surname and pointed us about 400m back up the road, near the shops she said.

So back up the road to park outside the shops, Audrey spots a familiar looking gate, and through it multitudes of cats. This was one thing we remembered from the airbnb profile - many, many cats. I turned around and almost tripped over a small smiling lady carrying some groceries from the shop. I apologised, then did a double-take on the face. Grazia? Yes, she answered.. Matt and Audrey? Si, Si!

The accidental introductions completed, she quickly confirmed the cat house was hers but that the shops were shutting in ten minutes if we needed anything. We decide to see what we can rustle up for dinner, a nice fresh salad sounded good. Don't buy tomatoes or lettuce or herbs, she shouted after us, turns out she grows them all organically on site.

We got our groceries, and Audrey picked some suitable items from the veggie patch while I unloaded the bags and then we were shown around the property. Grazia kept all sorts of animals on the Agriturismo - horses, ponies, goats, chickens, rabbits, dogs, cats, sheep, and probably more. She helpfully talked us through the local area, gave us a map and pointed out some places we might like to visit, nearby hiking paths, etc. 

We made our salad, washed it down with the remaining Poggio Alloro red wine, deliciously room temperature in its plastic bottle, then briefly planned out tomorrow and caught up on a few emails before bed.

Beautiful weather ahead, so we're hiking to the beachy Monterosso al Mare.

Day 13: Florence

Well, at least we had intended to research Florence last night. What really happened was we read a bit then chatted and relaxed instead. So this morning we did a bit of last minute planning and then left for some more manic driving and arrived at Piazza Michelangelo a little after 11, snagging one of the last parking places, which a car 5cm larger might not have fit into.

Campanile and Duomo

True to form, we were running late for our walking tour-- we parked high above the city 10 minutes before we were due to begin. Oops. So instead we bought passes to the main attractions and had a self guided wander, climbing the campanile (tower next to the Duomo) then the baptistery, with a ceiling covered in paintings and gold leaf. It even got a wow from Matt- not an easy feat.

The baptistery was where Dante was baptised and it was easy to see where he got his inspiration for the circles of hell-- Renaissance Christians really went in for the gruesome imagery. Satan munching humans, etc. The detail was incredible though. We sat in there for a while just staring at the ceiling.

We then shoved our way through pushy artists and caricature makers (?) to a little sandwich shop, where the man and woman proceeded to happily ignore us as they flirted and sang to each other in gibbery Italian. We eventually convinced them to sell us a few sandwiches and made our way across the city to catch the afternoon walking tour, which focused on the Medici family. We were both really looking forward to it.

singing sammich makers

Unfortunately, the tour was staler than our sandwiches, and Matt commented that ancient Italian torture methods were still alive as the guide proceeded to bore us to no end. He continuously started a story that could have been interesting, then began mumbling, then talked about something completely different. We tried asking questions, but he looked at us blankly and changed the subject. So we ducked into the crowds at the Ponte Vecchio (gorgeous bridge covered in vendor stalls) and lost the group.

The one thing we did learn was that the campanile (previously mentioned tower) is actually open to climb to the very top, and we had somehow missed the stairs that continued up. We talked our way back in and made it to the top this time. After admiring the view, we decided this would be a good chance to test out the zoom function on the camera, and Matt snapped this one of a lovely Italian dinner party across town. (Phweet phwoo, roller girl.)

We wandered to the piazza outside the Palazzo Vecchio and took pictures of the famous copy of Michelangelo's David and several other pieces of amazing art that we were certain were important and could research later. Seeing that the museum (the former house of the Medici family) was open until midnight, we bought our tickets and then went looking for dinner.


We found a cute cafe with exposed brick walls and a yum looking menu, and I was sold. Matt got gnocchi with homemade pesto, and I decided to try faggotini (like little pasta parcels) stuffed with cheese and pear. A risk, but one of the best meals I've ever had. (Will be figuring out how to make this once back in Aus and with a kitchen. Guinea pigs, come on over.)

Less tasty was the pair of smokers who were sitting about 6 inches from our table and insisting on blowing their smoke into our plates of food, a popular European pastime. Matt protested, and they gave him nasty looks. Total hypocrites, we found, when a motorbike started up, blowing exhaust over them, and they had a fit... quite funny.

We then went back to the Palazzo Vecchio and spent a few hours wandering around the Hall of the Five Hundred, through the personal rooms of the family, and into the map room, which was really amazing. You can even see from ancient wear on the floor where there still exists a secret passageway entrance behind the map of Algeria, which swings out on hidden hinges. Love stuff like that. Obviously tried the hidden door when the guards weren't looking, but it was locked.

not-so-tricky secret passageway behind Algeria map

We also saw some graffiti from the 1600s, carefully scratched on a Vasari political satire painting no less, and actually making it even more interesting. Way to go, Scarpetini.

It was getting late at this point, so we made the half hour trek back to the car (the city is so much prettier at night without all the crowds of people), fired up the navigatrix and back home to Isabella's ex-monastery. Until next time, beautiful Florence.

Day 12: Poggio Alloro

Carmignano: Our bedroom, complete with mozzie net

Carmignano: The common/dining area

Carmignano: Our balcony

We woke at Isabella's to a great view of the Tuscan countryside and a nice breakfast with our new Belgian friends and neighbours, Kim and Zef.


We decided that we really wanted a day of eating (drinking) in the countryside and set out to the not so gruelling task of finding a winery where we could legitimately spend the next seven hours. After a bit of googling and a bumbling Italian phone call to make a reservation, we set out for the family vineyard Poggio Alloro, in the Chianti region (which must be good right?) outside San Gimignano.


At one point during the drive, we came across what must have been the only traffic light within 50 miles. There was no pedestrian crossing, no intersecting roads, no ascertainable reason for the impediment, yet there it was. And then what made us burst out laughing, there was a windscreen-washing guy there! And it seems like the rulebook is universal - ignore all pleads to NOT wash our window. He starts anyway... Yeesh! You couldn't make this stuff up. We surmised he must have collaborated with some town authority to install the traffic light himself so he could wash windows. Incredible!

Traffic light guy!

After a few detours to take pictures with cows, sample sour grapes, etc, we arrived at a beautiful family run vineyard, where they also made their own cheeses, cold cured meats, olive oil, jams, honey, pasta and bread. There was no menu-- you just got what they had fresh that day.

San Gimignano in the distance

Some grapes we may or may not have sampled!

Yep, definitely should have brought the togs...

After initially being seated at a table that was quickly inundated with a French tour group, we extricated ourselves and found a quiet corner table with views over the hills. We were served a bottle of red, then a bottle of white, baskets of homemade bread, home grown and pressed olive oil, parmesan, fresh pasta with meat sauce, and a platter of cured meats and cheeses with honeys and fig jams. After eating/ drinking/ lazing for about four hours (and decanting our remaining wine into a plastic water bottle for later consumption-- college habits die hard) we headed back to Isabella's.

Matt assures me the finger was posed!

Homemade everything. So delicious.

We made it home for dusk, and watched the sun set while we researched Florence for tomorrow.

Day 11: Vesuvius to Carmignano

'The Hermitage'

We woke early to the smell of crackling sausage and the constant screams of an overindulged two year old. After a quick peek out of our balcony to the mass of Vesuvius, we packed our bags and navigated our way carefully down the narrow winding spiral staircase from our attic room. 'Mama' (she still wouldn't reveal her actual name) had laid out tea, coffee, milk, and a few plastic wrapped croissants. We admired the rest of their collection of unusual art while we ate as quickly as we could. 'Mama' kept coming in to check if we had finished, or if we needed directions to where we were going, and when were we going? Now? Soon? Geez. OK. So after smiling and nodding after she rattled off a string of more of her dubious directions, we were off.

Luckily our trusty navigatrix was more on top of the local geography than Mama was, though the Italians love to post signs for lookout points that haven't existed for approximately 50 years. Or are locked with chains in the middle of the day. One such fruitless venture led us to a road (more of an overgrown path really) that bypassed some ancient, rusty, and beautiful gates, one of which had long since fallen off its hinges. There was no sign, so I immediately jumped out of the car to explore, leaving Matt protesting loudly about broken glass (it was everywhere), proper footwear (I was in beach flip flops) and bums living there (quite likely). All good points, but I was off.


Matt followed and we found our way into the fascinating ruin of what seemed to be an extremely grand hotel from the late 1800s, overlooking the towns below from halfway up Vesuvius. It was all beautifully painted, and the architecture was gorgeous and intricately detailed. There were also piles of broken bottles in very corner, mounds of ancient (possibly original) bedding nd a few holes in the floor that went down to the floor below. Windows were smashed and shutters banging in the wind. We spent about 20 minutes inside and wisely decided against ascending the grand staircase. Later we googled and found it was the old hotel Hermitage, built by Thomas Cook two years before Vesuvius erupted in 1908 (good one, Tom).


Resolving to just go straight to the top and not follow any more signs, we found our way to a large gravel lot that seemed more promising, with little booths selling trinkets (mainly and inexplicably phallic symbols carved from volcanic rock). An aggressive guy in a sweat stained grey shirt authoritatively told us to park in that spot and to pay him two euros fifty when we came back. Yeah right. So we smiled good naturedly and parked in a different spot before we realized that we didn't have enough cash for the tickets to go up. Hmmm. Quickly solved by smiling sweetly and asking for due biglietti estudianti (the old man can still pass for a student apparently).

The climb was pretty tough, even in tennis shoes, though we saw one crazy woman attempting in heels and a skirt-- excellent volcano climbing wear. We were primarily motivated by the constant stream of older and fatter people coming down the hill.

We got to the top, where I was amused to see they were selling volcanic rocks by the hundreds. Hilarious since they looked exactly the same as the millions of rocks we had just scrambled up. I pocketed a few from the ground, and climbed to the side of the crater, where it really hits you that this is a LIVE volcano. There is still a part of the crater that constantly emits a hazy column of twisty grey smoke. Seeing how huge the crater was really put the original eruption into perspective – over half the mountain actually blew off and the resulting ash, lava, and rock was what had taken thousands of years to be cleaned out of the ill fated Pompeii and Herculaneum, where we were headed next.



We carefully climbed back down and found our car and our sweaty grey shirted amico. It was fairly obvious he didn't work there and was just an opportunist, so when he demanded his 2.50, Matt instead suggested he pay us 2.50 instead. He seemed less keen on this proposition, and we sped off as fast as our little Oopi would go.

We then went to Herculaneum to see the rest of the ruins. After finding parking behind a pizzeria, we headed in. It was really similar to Pompeii, though much smaller, and it had been buried in lava, not ash. A lot of the actual relics have been sent all over the world and annoyingly, many seem to be in London at the British Museum. Hmm. It was still amazing to walk around this unbelievably well preserved city and see their grand frescoes, water fountains and baths from thousands of years ago.

Ercolano!

A rather well-maintained chapel inside a house?

Roman shop sign

Tiled floor inside the women's baths

We took a final visit to the crypts below, where there were piles of skeletons (presumably pre-eruption). By this time it was about 3pm, and we were really hungry.


You wouldn't expect it to be tough to find a cafe in a touristy town in Italy. We didn't either. After finding a parking spot in the city center and working out the ticketing (no easy feat), we then wandered to cafe after cafe to find that they were ALL closed. We were about to give up and just et back on the autostrada to Tuscany when I saw a tiny little cafe that seemed open, though it was deserted. I found a little man inside (I mean really little, like up to Matt's waist) who told me in Italian that we could have some panini di melanzane. I was fairly certain this meant eggplant sandwich, and even more certain I would have eaten anything anyway. We agreed and he proceeded to move more slowly than I have ever seen a human move while making a sandwich. After about half an hour, we had finished our drinks and were still waiting for our sandwiches, which he kept toasting and re toasting. I thought Matt was going to lose it.


We finally got our sandwiches and sped back to the car, which mercifully was still there. We then drove the four or five hours north, past Rome, as cars disregarded all traffic laws and attempted to kill us repeatedly at very high speeds.

The rest of the trip passed mainly without incident, and we arrived at Isabella's b&b at dusk. She came to meet us and show us around, explaining that it is actually an ex monastery from the 1500s (why not). Our room was beautiful and we settled in for the night.