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all roads lead to Rome

Friday, August 21st, 2009

Rome, Italy

yea, even the bumpy, patched, pitted, potholed ones. At least that’s the one we came in to the great city on. Not that we have made it right in to town. We’re basking in the shade of the only large tree in a campervan park, which doubles as a used car sales yard (or maybe it’s the other way round, a secondhand dealer making a bit more money on the side from motorhomers). It’s the first time we’ve had to pay for accommodation in about a month, but this is only 10km from the Colosseum, so that’s to be expected, and if you average out the cost over a whole month, these days at 16 euros a day are not too bad at all. In fact, even without doing creative accounting, it’s still cheaper than camping in New Zealand!

But back to those roads, or the one we travelled, anyway.

Even though we were already high in the mountains, the first half hour was straight upwards. Well, not straight, of course – it wound back and forth and turned so many corners Grandpa felt we were going in a circle! Having done some long hours in the mountains, we were perplexed at the queasy stomachs in both vehicles! The only other queasy mountain drive was when the gas was leaking!! Cresting the hill, we encountered a jumble of road signs….all of these appeared within a kilometre or so.
* Windy (first syllable rhymes with wine, not win, although later there will be a sign depicting lots of blowing across a bridge)
* Deer crossing 1.3km (how someone works out the point three, I’m not sure)
* Bumpy (just in case we hadn’t noticed, I think)
* Rocks falling (we’re almost immune to seeing this one – it’ everywhere)
* But this last one was a bit disconcerting…in the middle of the yellow triangle was a black car….underneath the black car was a black road…..a black road slipping away, just like the rocks falling sign. For some illogical reason, I’d prefer to be hit with a boulder from above than have the road disappear from beneath me!

The road continued.
Along with the ubiquitous olive groves; grey-ish green delicate spindly gnarly trees, the colour reminding us of our feijoa trees, but the form being so different.
And the first-we-have-seen-in-Italy livestock. Gorgeous creamy white cows, hundreds of them, apparently banished from their huge barns, but not straying far from the shade afforded by their dwellings. It was strange to see cattle, not on green grass, but outside their residences, stamping hooves on dry brown dusty hardpacked soil.
Walled villages, presumably medieval, came into view with regularity. From being a speck on a far hill, they turned into being what must have once been a formidable sight, towering up above us, all brown and orange stone and tile, fortresses.
At the edge of one town, caves appeared in the rocks. Natural? manmade? We’re not sure; we didn’t stop to investigate. But obviously famous, judging by the number of cars parked and people wandering around.
We came over the top of another hill and were delighted to see the sea. Blue. Sparkling. Looking cool in the almost oppressive heat. GPS informed us it wasn’t the sea, but a lake. A lake with a completely built-up waterfront. Which meant it was not worth even trying to get to for a lunchtime swim.
We stayed on the road, a rural road that was often littered. The streets in towns too. Surprising, because there are recycling bins in even the most remote “villages” (sometimes where there are only two or three houses, a couple of huge bins sit on the roadside). In fact, the closer to Rome, the more Bangkok-like the litter became.
By mid-afternoon ROMA was on the overhead signs, with ever decreasing distances.
But we were in for a surprise. We had directions to take Exit 24 off the ring road. It’s just that the ring road was a much bigger ring than we anticipated. Thinking we had virtually arrived, we were already imagining pouring cold drinks. But we needed to do another 45km on the ring!!!! And then get lost once. And investigate another hopeful-looking sign. Before finally re-consulting our German handbook and starting over from the ring road exit.

All roads lead to Rome, and we can confirm with utmost confidence, that a mighty big one circles it too!

We’re lacking in the photo department again….if you’d like some pictures, Grandpa put up screeds from our first week in Italy on his recent blogpost here.

Note for our foodies: today’s Italiano-taste was little pieces of “toast”….they are the shape of toast, they are twice-baked, and they come out of the packet Just Like That. You don’t even need a toaster! Of course, they do not smell like toast, and they are very very dry, but we piled on ricotta cheese, prosciutto, fresh tomatoes and basil, a variety of pickled veges – red and yellow peppers, gherkins, cocktail onions, and sliced yellow cheese. Biscottate make a tasty breakfast.

super market (second take)

Thursday, August 20th, 2009

Santa Fiora, Italy

At the risk of being monotonous, the supermarket features again today.

Yesterday in the supermarket, behind a glass-faced counter was a tantalising bowlful of fresh white ricotta cheese. Even better, it was inexpensive. But not so cheap that we could buy a whole kilo of it – and that’s all I could have managed to ask for.
I remembered back to our early days in Poland where everything had to be bought over the counter, and what a monumental achievement it was to finally be able to buy only half a kilogram of carrots, or ten decagrams of something instead of a whole kilo!
Here I was, almost two decades later facing the same problem.
Just in a different country.
But in a refrigerated display case I found a small container for a euro and so my dilemna was overcome for the moment.

Today we needed bread, and as it so happens, bread is also ordered by the kilo in Italy, and it, too, resides behind the counter. Thankfully, a kilo sounded a reasonable amount for us. I stood behind the rabble, paying more attention than I had yesterday, trying to work out whether to join an orderly queue or employ Chinese elbow-digging techniques. My momentary spot of observation was well rewarded. Off to the side of the deli counter is a metal stand with little strips of paper. You tear one off and check the number. In a few moments the number will be both displayed on a sparkly red screen above the counter and called out by the next available helper. The cry for number 61 signalled our turn and I stepped forward, showing my proof before depositing it in one of the two wicker baskets dedicated to that purpose. Pointing and rudimentary language saw us quickly in the possession of a large loaf of hard-crusted bread wrapped in brown paper.
By the way….detour…..every time I have made bread to supposedly authentic Italian recipes at home we have been sorely disappointed at the hard crust, flatness and bland taste. Having now tried bread from a range of bakeries here, I can be satisfied that it was not a lack of skills that produced these results; it’s just the way Italian bread is. Too dry and hard to be classed as one of our favourites.)

Back to the supermarket….bread in hand, it still needed to be paid for. That’s easy enough. Stand in the queue until it is your turn. On our various supermarket outings there have been enough people in front of me that I have been able to observe queue-behaviour and work out that what sounds like a sentence ending in the Polish “kapusta” is nothing to do with cabbage, but just the shop assistant asking if you would like a bag (which is actually, according to the phrasebook, “borsa” – not too far off, I suppose, for an untrained ear)
”No no,” said, of course, with the Italian accent and not kiwi, is naturally our answer as we exhibit our reusable bags that accompany each shopping trip.

And so, with a grazie mille, we are out of the supermarket.

And up the road is another market, a super one. It’s held in a medieval square that has been hosting such a gathering for hundreds of years. One of the adjoining shops full of olive oils and wines and salamis and pinenuts and pestos even has a photo on the wall of the very street/square brimming with people carrying out their marketting, from the looks of it, not long after the invention of the camera.
On sale today is a higgeldy-piggeldy assortment of clothing from South America, handmade bead necklaces, creative hats, crafted wooden spoons and honey drippers (and even a metal nutmeg grater with a wooden box to collect the shavings), pottery, lightshades of mainly fifties vintage and a huge array of secondhand goods, some garrish, some junk, some simply old, and some treasures.

 

We wandered the market and wriggled through the surrounding ancient streets. This is definitely the most character-filled Italian town we have encountered – there is a lot of stonework, the doorways are low and often arched, the alleys are full of promising curves, stone archways link buildings and open on to openair courtyards, letterboxes are painted artistically, shutters are open with delicate curtains hanging at them, mosaics can be spotted, and a stained-glass-memorial too…

The increasing heat sends us back to the shade of the trees for lunch (that dry bread made edible with French brie, sliced tomatoes, just-picked basil and lots of ground black pepper).

 

We discuss dinner. Later on the two eldest kids will whip up a tasty tomato sauce while I return to the supermarket to buy fresh gnocchi (nyo-kee please!)
There is dried gnocchi too, but the fresh looks so good. Come to think of it, there was A LOT of dried pasta (and yes, I really did stand there photographing half of it!)…..

 

Time on the road: none in vans, but a few hours wandering
Distance covered: 0km

singing in the supermarket

Wednesday, August 19th, 2009
Santa Fiora, Italy After a cooler night that facilitated better sleeping, the air was heavy with pressing heat as we sat down to fresh melon for breakfast. We acknowledged it was certainly going to be another scorcher, perhaps even the ... [Continue reading this entry]

rundown ’talian towns

Tuesday, August 18th, 2009
Certaldo, Italy While not wanting to be hasty in passing judgement, the general impression we have of Italy so far is that it is a bit rundown – apart from relatively isolated instances of painted facades, mosaics or painted tiles ... [Continue reading this entry]

Galileo just may have been here

Monday, August 17th, 2009
Certaldo, Italy….via Pisa It is said that Galileo dropped two differing weight cannonballs from the top of what is conceivably the most famous bell tower in the world. The point he was trying to prove was one that our older ... [Continue reading this entry]

good food is not restricted to france

Sunday, August 16th, 2009
Pescia, Italy According to the French, the Italians have nothing after the noodle. But that just ain’t true. This morning, having been woken early by cheerily tolling bells merely metres from our motorhomes, we were quietly minding our business, intentionally not going ... [Continue reading this entry]

how many hills will our vans cope with?

Saturday, August 15th, 2009
Pescia, Italy mountain mountain mountain hairpin bend hairpin bend hairpin bend mountain mountain mountain up and around up and around up and around down down down mountain mountain mountain It was only 120km, but it seemed a long way. It went up and up, down and ... [Continue reading this entry]

we’re so hot we overtook a Ferrari

Friday, August 14th, 2009
carpark beside the river in Aulla, Italy It’s true! We’re hot. High thirties hot and humid with it. And we did overtake a Ferrari. This one:

I guess you know it was not going at top speed. When ... [Continue reading this entry]

mama mia!

Thursday, August 13th, 2009
ended up next to a cemetery in Briaglio, Italy It was a demanding day; driving-wise, parenting-wise, emotions-wise, new-country-wise. And it is exactly those first impressions that you need to capture before they become familiar. Things like not knowing how to ... [Continue reading this entry]

onwards and upwards

Wednesday, August 12th, 2009
Barcelonnette, France From the foothills we climb. There are hills ahead of us, nay, mountains and we need to get over them to make it to Italy. We hope the vans are going to cope! The morning’s drive is rugged. ... [Continue reading this entry]