Today turned out to be an unexpected pleasure. We had planned to leave our campsite, have a quick look at the Salanto coast, then head towards Gallipoli, where we expected to spend most of the day. It was a lovely sunny morning, so we sat out and had our breakfast, and our rather leisurely pace meant it took us a while to get going. Frankly, we were making the most of having the entire site to ourselves, apart from two very friendly farm dogs. We decided they would make excellent ‘van’ dogs, due to their short stature. Their top half and temperament appeared to be Labrador, but they had the legs of a terrier, so we mused over breeding our friend’s Labrador with our other friend’s Jack Russell to make a perfect travelling companion in Oscar, although frankly any sort of hound in here would make life considerably more complicated – maybe one for the future!
Eventually we set of southwards, hugging the coast down to the very tip of the heel of Italy. This part of the coast is called the Salento Peninsular, and the Italians living here called Salentines. Probably improved by the gorgeous weather, this drive proved to be divine. It has a rugged, rocky coastline interspersed with little bays and grottos. We passed through tiny fishing villages and coves, most with a bar or restaurant. Being Saturday morning, loads of locals seem to have come out to promenade and enjoy the sunshine, and clearly in the summer this would be a popular place. I suspect, however, the Italians are trying to keep this part of their coastline a hidden secret, since it has all the charm of the Amalfi, maybe not quite so picture card perfect, but a close second. The road twists and turns along the pine-clad coastline, with the beautiful green / turquoise blue sea on the left for the entire route, but with slightly more driveable roads, and definitely without the crowds of the more well-known coastline on the Mediterranean side of Italy.
We headed first to the pretty coastal town of Otranto, with it’s harbour, castle and huge stone walls leading into the old quarter. After a quick wander and a coffee stop, we continued on along the coastal road. Just a few kilometres further on, we parked up, and walked down to Capo d’Otranto, to see the lighthouse which sits on the point. Painted white, it made a beautiful sight against the azure blue ocean. It is at this Cape that the Adriatic and Ionian Seas join. As if on queue, as we walked up the steps to the lighthouse, my phone pinged in with a message from Vodaphone Greece. I was impressed that they had mapped the Ionian Sea so precisely!
The next part of the drive was stunning. Boris, our silly satnav, was trying to send us inland, but we chose to ignore his pompous instructions, and continued to hug this beautiful part of the coast. We came to a town called Santa Caesarea Terme, which is renowned for it’s healing Spas. It was full of elegant coastal mansions, and as we got out of the car, the whiff of sulphur was evident. The town had a huge car park, which today was empty, but I imagine that this is a very popular spot in summer with holidaying Italians.
Eventually we arrived at the very tip of the heel of Italy, to a town called Santa Maria di Leuca. It was here that apparently St. Peter arrived when he sailed to Italy. Above the town sits the stunning Basilica Sanctuario di Santa Maria di Leuca, with it’s Roman looking piazza. This is a place of pilgrimage, since following a pirate raid where a tapestry was burnt, the singed remains revealed an image of the Virgin Mary, which is now displayed at the altar! Another huge white lighthouse marks the end of the promontary. The sea below was sparkling, and you could understand why the Romans called this place ‘finnibus terrae’ – the end of the earth.
After a pleasant drink in the sunshine, we wound our way back up the peninsular to Gallipoli. As we arrived, the sun was just starting to set, and we spotted our third lighthouse of the day, guarding the entrance to the harbour of the old town.
The Salento Peninsular had turned out to be a really pleasing place to visit. Stunning coastline, picturesque lighthouses, charming towns and hardly any traffic – perfect.
As I finish my gin, we are just heading off to a restaurant in Gallipoli, just along the road from our campsite. All in all, a good day.

The day started with a hot shower in our lovely warm private bathroom, in the middle of a farm, next to an avenue of fig trees. Before leaving for Lecce, the farmer’s daughter came over to speak with us, and asked if we would like to sample her home made organic produce when we got back later. How could we refuse?!
We set of for Lecce, listening to music, and the strangely good Italian accent that Boris has developed. Howard is convinced that our shuffle selection of music is positively favouring Ed Sheehan – if only he could sing like Ed! We managed to negotiate the city centre without incident, and found a good spot to leave Oscar. Whilst sourcing parking spaces, I commented to Howard about a car I saw parking on a zebra crossing. ‘Surely they wont allow that?’ To which Howard, rather dryly replied – ‘Heather, they build small houses on pedestrian crossings here in Italy, and no-one seems to bat an eye-lid’. I suspect Howard is now getting the measure of the way things work in Italy. Certainly, anyone crossing a pedestrian crossing on a green light seems to be considered fair game in these parts. We are becoming very adept at sprinting to the other side of the road as quickly as possible, even if it is our turn to cross.
After a false start, when Google maps apparently went wrong (I’m not saying anything incriminatory here!), we then found the old historical centre of this lovely city. It is a university town, and has that easy-going up-beat feel about itself. The historical centre is renowned for it’s extravagant baroque architecture, which is why it is often compared to Florence. Most of the buildings are a splendid white limestone, which sit around elegant squares. As in other towns and cities along in this part of Puglia, the squares are joined by a labyrinth of narrow paved streets, with overhanging balconies with balustrades. It is all rather charming. When we turned a corner and found ourselves in one of the main highlights of this city, the Piazza del Duomo, with it’s gorgeous 12th century white cathedral, we had to double-take. There was not a singe person in this huge square – it felt quite unreal. We wandered around and took in the splendid cathedral, with it’s impressive tower. Eventually another couple and a women walking her dog did appear to join us, but for at least ten minutes, we had this wonderful place to ourselves. Apparently in times of invasion, the inhabitants of Lecce would barricade themselves into the square, which has conveniently narrow entrances. In the cathedral, there are a series of papier-mâché statues, which is something unique to Lecce, we learned. Just as we were leaving, a well dressed, elderly gentleman came over to us, and started explaining the history of the cathedral. We listened politely for a few moments, helping him translate the words he didn’t know, but then, to our disappointment, at the end of his quite informative explanation he asked us for money. Howard handed him a Euro – at least it was better than just begging for money, I suppose. We have been approached on many occasions for money since we arrived in Italy – the beggars seem to take a more direct approach here than the UK. Interestingly, we cannot recall any beggars in Spain or Portugal, just a series of very talented buskers, whom we would happily offer a few coins. Next we walked across to the Basilica di Santa Croce, which is billed as being constructed by ‘hallucinating stonemasons’ – with sheep, dodos, cherubs and all sorts of beasts adorning the facade. Sadly, a lot of the front facade was undergoing conservation work, but we did get a sense of the the rather over-the-top stonework. I did not dislike it, but one Marchese Grimaldi apparently commented that it made him think that a ‘lunatic was having a nightmare’.
All in all, I think that both Howard and I warmed to the place. It is somewhere where you can comfortably spend a day exploring it’s walkways and piazzas, and I would also recommend the coffee shops – molto bene!
Arriving back at our campsite, we had our pre-arranged appointment with the farmer’s daughter. She had laid out a table of wares in the bar, which included organic wine from the farm’s own wines (20 euros for 5 litres!) hand pressed last year, olive oil – ditto, and a selection of toiletries, which included a foul smelling St. John’s Wort night cream (which I declined), and a citronella spray for repelling mosquitos (which I purchased). Howard duly bought two bottles of wine and some olive oil. At the end of the transaction, the girl presented me with the night cream, as a ‘complimentary gift’. I guess she was having problems shifting her stock of that one!
So a good relaxing day. Tomorrow we head towards Gallipoli, around the very heel of Italy.

It’s amazing how much better you feel about the day when you wake up to sunshine. After arriving at our campsite last night, it rained solidly all night, but just before sunrise the rain cleared, and we rose to bright blue skies and a wonderful view of the Adriatic yards from Oscar. We were tempted to stay another night, but had already made plans further down the coast, so packed up and set off. Just as we were leaving, the other couple on the site, told us of their dreadful experiences a week or so earlier of being completely snowed in for four days in Tuscany, after a heavy snowfall there. Unlike us, they didn’t have the benefit of a diesel heater, so had spent a few days absolutely frozen. But they did give us a very good tip off for morning coffee – the small fishing village of Bisceglie, just a mile down the road. So we went off to explore, and indeed, it was a gem. Totally un-touristy, with a little harbour with local fishing boats, and a few pleasant cafes around the waterfront. So that is where we started our day, sitting in the sunshine watching the boats.
Next we set off to what we christened ‘Hobbit-land’, or the town of Alberobello to be precise. It is set inland from the coast, up in the hills, amongst fertile farmland and olive groves – and what a treat it proved to be. The attraction of this town, and indeed the surrounding area are the strange cylindrical houses with conical roofs called ‘Trulli’. There are over a thousand of these structures throughout Puglia, but the highest concentration are in this town and it’s environs. The walls are made of stone, painted white with slate roofs, and do look like they have come straight out of a Peter Jackson film. Any minute you expect a Hobbit to pop out of one. They first appeared in the late 15th century, and were built without using any mortar. The benefit of this, apparently, was that this made them easy to dismantle, so allowing their crafty owners to avoid paying taxes. So you see, tax avoidance has been going on for centuries!
They indeed made a stunning sight. We first started spotting them in the local farmland approaching the town, some joined together to form charming farm-houses. Once in Alberobello, they were everywhere, with literally hundreds of them on one side of the town, snaking their way up the hill. We walked along these limestone paved ‘Trulli’ streets, up to the ‘Trulli’ church. On some of the conical roofs were painted symbols in white paint, some religious signs, others signs of the zodiac. It was truly fascinating wandering around this town, and once more, all the better for being quiet – apparently in the summer, this place is heaving with tourists. We even stopped and had our first ‘gelato’ of the trip, sitting on a bench overlooking the hillside of little Hobbit homes. Howard commented how clean the place looked, and on queue, we spotted the first rubbish cart and road cleaner of this leg of our trip. It may be because this is a UNESCO Heritage site that it is kept so pristine, since it is in stark contrast to the other parts of rubbish-strewn Southern Italy we have encountered. Although Trani was also pristine, so maybe this municipality has more funds to allocate for rubbish collection.
We eventually dragged ourselves away from this lovely spot, and headed to our campsite, just south of Lecce. It is an ‘agriturisimo’ site, which basically means it is on a farm, with some area put aside for camping. Only one other German motorhome was here when we arrived, so the farm owner kindly opened up one of the bathrooms (heated) in one of the cottages he also rents out, rather than having to use the rather dated and chilly washrooms in the field. So tonight we have a toilet seat and a warm bathroom – bloody marvellous!
Tomorrow we plan to explore Lecce, dubbed the ‘Florence of the South’. We will see!

This morning, much to the delight of our German neighbours, I gave Oscar a wash. This was partly prompted by our fellow campers, who seemed to spend large parts of their time polishing and preening their big whites. But at least it resulted in an approving smile from next door, once we had got the lad up to scratch with the other camper vans on the site! Talk about peer pressure! Howard, on the other hand, completely disgraced himself by taking 45 minutes to fold up the pop up tent we had brought with us, and that was only after Googling instructions with an accompanying video on You-Tube. We had only used it once before in Scotland, and had left the instructions behind. Howard had erected it yesterday to store the cover and hook up wire, to save packing them again whilst we were out for the day. Needless to say, it caused great delight to our fellow campers as they sat out on their chairs, sneakily watching the whole performance from he corner of their eyes. The problem appeared to be the figure of eight manoeuvre with the circular metal frame. Eventually it was tamed back into it’s bag, but not before we had brought total humiliation and shame on UK campers.
As we drove off the site, I’m sure I could hear all the other nationalities chortling to themselves! We headed south, stopping off at a coastal town on the Adriatic called Barletta. Our guide book raved about it’s Norman Castle and Cathedral, their ‘white limestone sparkling against the azure blue Adriatic’. Well not quite so this morning – it was pretty dull, the light was flat, and the Adriatic, at best, was a deep muddy green. Still it passed a pleasant hour wandering around the streets after coffee. We discovered the same white paved alleyways as we had seen yesterday in Vieste, and discovered that it was, in fact, polished limestone flagstones, rather than marble as we had first thought. We stopped to admire the huge castle and moat, and then meandered back through the old town, with narrow alleyways with washing hung out overhead.
Next stop was Trani, billed as the ‘Pearl of Puglia’ in our book. First impressions were tempered, as the motorists yet again seemed to treat us a fair game, and cut us up at every opportunity, with the obligatory hooting to add to our distress. However once we had parked up and walked into the old quarter, we did indeed discover a wonderful place. Most of the buildings, as yesterday, were built from white stone, with white paved walkways. We walked down one which opened out into an elegant square, which led on to an attractive harbour, with a mixture of up-

market yachts and fishing boats. Local fisherman stood around chatting and mending their nets, and all around the outside were cafes and restaurants, most of which were closed, I guess it being too early in the season.
We strolled over to the beautiful white cathedral, with steps up to an impressive brass entrance door. We found ourselves liking this place the more we explored, all the better for being virtually the only ones around on this rather dull afternoon.
Eventually we pulled ourselves away and headed to our campsite for the night. We thought initially it was deserted, but have discovered one other van here. We picked our pitch next to the sea (less than fifty yards), and positioned Oscar so that we can look out on the sea from our windows. Sadly, no sooner it had arrived, the rain came on. But we are hoping for better weather tomorrow, and if so, the view should be sublime.
Bizarrely, the photo of our ‘road from hell’ experience (day 53) has only just come in, so I will post it now, so you can appreciate how tight this was. I only had the gumption to take a photo once we had passed the scaffolding, so imagine this same road with scaffolding butting out on the left side – it is sending shivers down my spine just reliving the experience!

We have warmed to Mr. Bobble Hat, after he and ‘boss’ managed to extricate my knickers from the washing machine, and decided to stay another night.
This morning Howard went for a run along the beach, whilst I got up at a leisurely pace. This part of the Adriatic coast should be beautiful, but it is sadly marred with litter all along the tide-line. Howard even spotted an intact life-jacket this morning – no doubt legacy from the boats of immigrants who continue to flood into Italy along the Sicilian coast from Africa. In a country that is struggling with it’s own economy, it is remarkable that they have any capacity to process the thousands landing on their shores every month.
After breakfast, we set off to explore the Gargano Promontary, a national park in the far north east of Puglia. First, we passed through Manfredonia, a pleasant enough fishing port, with a stunning circular castle looking out over the bay. We then continued on through Monte Sant’Angelo, a town of white washed houses clinging to the mountainside, and apparently famous for the appearance of St. Michael in AD 493, who left his footprint in a grotto. Needless to say, we didn’t go to visit said grotto!
Next we took the coastal road, which twisted and turned it’s way along the Adriatic northwards towards the town of Vieste. The sea was a gorgeous turquoise blue when the sun appeared, and the road was lined with fir trees. At one point we pulled over to admire the view, but were disappointed to see that locals had been throwing their rubbish down a ravine that led down to the sea. Clearly rubbish removal is an issue in Italy, and they seem not to have developed the strange habit that my husband ‘Stig’ and many of his fellow neighbours have, of visiting the dump at least once every weekend, to deal with excess rubbish. Perhaps these municipal dumps don’t exist in Italy, which is perhaps why the locals have to find their own solutions – but it made me sad to think that in such a beautiful place, people were showing little respect for the environment around them.
Our initial impressions of Vieste were underwhelming. As we approached, we passed two or three miles of holiday complexes and campsites – but all closed and all completely deserted. It was like a ghost town. Clearly in the summer months it must be thriving along this bit of the coast, but today, we had it to ourselves. But then, as we came into the town proper, we were pleasantly surprised. An attractive main road led to a seafront with a lighthouse to the left, and then on the right, the old part of the town, winding it’s way up a hill clinging to the white cliffs of the coast. After our statutory coffee, we went off to explore. It was gorgeous – steep little lanes, the streets seemingly made from marble slabs that were glistening from a recent shower (and quite slippy), a couple of handsome churches, one apparently Norman, and steep steps leading on to little squares and courtyards. We turned one corner past the church and came to the sea-wall – high up above the lashing waves below. Here, fishermen had constructed some sort of wooden platform, extending out from the wall, on which they stood with long lines cast out to sea. We looked it up later – they are called Trabuccos, pine wooden platforms unique to this part of Italy, usually built on rocks overlooking the sea, first used by the Phoenicians, and include wooden arms where fishermen put their nets. You learn something new every day!
We wandered back to the seafront, and for ten minutes or so, the light falling on the water was sublime, with the sky took on a pink colouration under the line of clouds, making it look almost like a watercolour.
By now, time was getting on, but as we drove out of town, I spied a mobile phone shop, so we stopped to purchase a local sim card for our mobile WiFi. We opted to drive back across the middle of the National Park, high up into the heavily wooded hills, known as the forest Umbra or shady forest. Here the trees were mainly deciduous – oak, larch, maple and ash, and there were clearly lots of walks way-marked. The views at the top were spectacular – looking out across the Adriatic to the heel of Italy in the distance. For the entire road through the forest, we only saw one other car – quite a contrast from the drive along the Amalfi Coat yesterday and the day before.
By the time we got back to the campsite, however, it was dark, and the last part of the drive with it’s frequent hairpins had been tedious. We vowed not too stay out so late in future, and to get set up for the night in the light. But no worries – we are now tucked up in Oscar, and waiting for my sim card to start working. So far, we have been very impressed with this part of Puglia. Although much less well known than Rome, Naples and the Amalfi Coast, to us, it is all the better for not being mobbed with crowds of tourists. Hopefully the rest of Puglia will continue to impress.
But for now – yippee – my WiFi has just come online, so extra photos tonight!

Soft rain was falling as we drove out of Positano this morning, but despite the dreich weather, we still left with very warm feelings towards this little town on the Amalfi Coast. We had found it’s atmosphere charming, all the better for being out of season, and with the exception of the driving, there had been nothing not to like. We both felt it was somewhere we would like to return to, but maybe next time we will visit in a very dented and bashed up hire car. Doing a straw poll of the vehicles we walked past this morning, as we made our way down the hill back to Oscar, not a single one was without a dint or a scrape! Howard decided that there is no way they would offer you ‘Collision Damage Waiver Insurance’ for this part of Italy, so it would perhaps be better to just go with the flow, and drive like a local.
As we sat eating breakfast this morning, the B & B owner was catching up with the election results on the TV. Not surprisingly, there was no clear majority party, so it will be a hung parliament until alliances can be formed. We had read yesterday that there is a clear north /south divide in Italy regards unemployment. Of all the major EU countries, Italy has been the only one not to have recovered it’s economy since the financial crash to a pre-2006 level, and so unemployment is running very high. In the north, it sits at less than 10%, but in the south, it is between 17 – 29%, the latter being in Sicily, which seems extraordinary. But in those under 25 years of age, it is on average 30%. It is no surprise, therefore, that the youth are very disillusioned by politics at the moment, and the prediction was that many had spoilt their ballot papers.
Howard, this morning though, did offer a partial solution to the huge unemployment level – to put them all to work filling in the pot-holes in the roads. It is as if no-one has repaired a pot-hole for at least a decade – they are everywhere, even on the motorways. Two days ago, we even saw a really old man out in the middle of the road with a bucket of grit, presumably doing voluntary community service to try to remedy the problem outside his house. We had a long drive this morning, and after a while, the constant bumpity-bump of the road caused me to nod off for a few minutes. I was suddenly awakened by a change in the road surface, which made Howard laugh – as it was actually the only smooth piece of road on the entire journey.
Once we had left the frenetic chaos of what is the Amalfi Coast, and cleared the suburbs of the Bay of Naples, we at last started to see something which resembled real countryside. It was much greener and more lush than the countryside we had seen in Spain and Portugal, presumably because it rains more. We drove eastwards, crossing over the central spine of Italy, and moved into first rolling hills, then the fertile coastal plain of Puglia. We passed cultivated fields of what looked like wheat, perhaps the durum wheat used to make pasta, more olive groves and vineyards, and then fields of arable crops such as artichoke and cabbage. This is clearly the bread basket of Italy. The land suddenly became very flat, almost as if driving across East Anglia or Wiltshire, and much less interesting.
As we approached our destination on the coast, we came to an inland coastal lagoon, and were thrilled to see a large collection of pink flamingoes wading the the water.
It was still raining as we arrived at our campsite, and our initial thoughts were not entirely positive. We stopped Oscar, and were sat deciding whether to give it a go, or not, when we were highjacked by an odd Italian in a bobble hat, who gesticulated and waived us into the camping area. We tried to explain we thought we would go into the local town to buy some provisions, but he had that one covered too. ‘Mini-mart’ he smiled!
So that is how we have found ourselves here. We really must be more assertive in future, but frankly, it was a long drive, and we didn’t have a plan B. On the plus side, there is a nice German lady staying just along from us with a lovely Golden Retriever – but on the negatives side, we currently have all my white underwear stuck in the washing machine. The door won’t open, and the man in the bobble hat says (using Google translate!), that we have to wait for ‘Boss’ to come.
Howard has gone off for a run while I type the blog. Sadly no WiFi, and still unable to download any photos. Oh dear – I think this could be a long night! Hopefully tomorrow we will see what the National Park of Gargano has to offer. I also trust I can recover my undies!

Today was been the pinnacle of our driving terrors to date. As it happens, it is also the day that Howard has run out of clean underpants, but he wants to stress that this bears no relation to the former statement. I beg to differ. If ever there was going to be a test of his driving skills, it was today. For some reason, we thought it would be a fine idea to drive along the Amalfi Coast. Rather than take the routes described by both Natasha and Boris, Howard felt it would be a shame to miss out on the coast looking out over the Bay of Naples, partly because yesterday Mount Vesuvius was completely obliterated by cloud, and this should give us the opportunity to at least see it from afar. So we drove to a place called Castellammare di Stabia, and wound our way down to the shore. We pulled over and duly admired Mount Vesuvius, but rather than take notice of either satnavs, which seemed to be sending us back in the direction from whence we had come, we drove into the little seaside town, and found ourselves in ever decreasing sized streets. We came into a square, with only one exit. A concerned Italian driving in the opposite direction stopped, gesticulated intensely, pointed up the only street available to us, shouted one kilometre, sucked his teeth, gesticulated some more, and then seemed to wish us luck. We thanked him (!) and then turned Oscar into the narrowest street you can imagine, with metal bollards on the right, and scaffolding along the sides of the buildings on the left. The street was cobbled, and on an incline of about 1 in 3. We had precisely 2 inches either side of the van (no exaggeration). We both drew breath. I was so terrified I couldn’t even whimper. Howard seemed to brace himself momentarily, and then just went for it. Once past the bit with scaffolding, we then had an extra 18 inches to play with, but at this point the road, still cobbled, became even steeper, and turned into a series of hairpin bends. How we got to the top of the road I have no idea. We were both speechless. It was another ten minutes before Howard muttered anything intelligible. By far, the scariest moment of out trip, but true testament both to Howard’s driving, and to the abilities of the California.
The next part of our drive, which our guidebook suggested ‘required nerves of steel’ to drive, the famous ‘Blue Ribbon’ route along the Amalfi Coast, was frankly a doddle compared with our earlier experience. Granted the road twisted and turned along the precipitous coastline, and we still had to contend with the mad Italian drivers, along with pelotons of cyclists, and Sunday morning motorcyclists – but in truth, the road had an occasional line painted in the middle of it, and the only point where we felt vaguely threatened was when we met a coach coming in the other direction, and had to back up to allow it to pass.
We were planning on staying in a B & B in Positano (having declined the ‘prostitute campsite’), but on the first drive through, we could see absolutely nowhere to park, so opted to drive on to Amalfi, whilst the weather was still clement. It was a soft light all day, with the sun barely peeking out through the haze, so we weren’t seeing the lovely azure blue hues that you often see in photos, but at least it wasn’t raining as had been forecast. In Amalfi, a policeman in a very snazzy outfit directed us along by the harbour, where a local popped out of nowhere and showed us to his special parking slot, and promised to look after our van whilst we were away, for a small fee!
We had a pleasant coffee and piece of Capresi cake in the square, and it was then that I realised that Howard still wasn’t really talking. In fact, he looked shell shocked. I think he was still recovering from our drive up the alleyway in Castellammare!
We wound our way back to Positano, and by this time, there was much less traffic on the coastal road. We had phoned ahead to our B & B owner, who assured us of a secure parking spot. We dropped off our bags, and left Oscar a few bends further down the road in a tiny car park with a gate – the man has insisted on keeping the keys. Howard thinks this is OK, whilst I’m having visions of the mafia. Let’s hope Howard is right!
The rest of the afternoon was gorgeous. We walked down the hill into the centre of Positano and the sea. It is a truly charming town, hugging the steep hillside, with a collection of pretty coloured houses and shops. It has the feel of a vibrant, well heeled and thriving place. It’s claim to fame seems to be Limoncello, and shops appear to sell everything conceivable to do with lemons – lemon sweets, lemon perfume, lemon candles, and of course lemons. We stopped and bought some Limoncello ‘hand-made’ in Positano, from a lady dressed all in lemon! Howard, by now speaking again, revived himself with a glass of wine. We sat next to a Korean family, a son, his wife and his mother. The son, who spoke impeccable English, was on the phone to his insurance company. He was explaining to them a tale of woe about a hiring a car from Naples which now had a flat tyre, discovering there was no spare, the unhelpfulness of the Italian car recovery service, being stuck on the Amalfi Coast, and the inevitably that they would miss their flight home. The whole story was indeed terrible, but for some inexplicable reason, Howard and I couldn’t help but smile. Our scary day no longer seemed so bad!
So tonight we have had a lovely supper in Positano, but sadly WiFi problems, so no ‘Call the Midwife’, and only a few photos (can’t download the road one, amongst others!) – I will try the rest in morning.

Tomorrow we head across to the other side of Italy and revert to camping. But first we have to negotiate what is the one way system out of Positano.

We awoke this morning to biblical rain, and couldn’t leave our campsite quick enough. For the first time on this trip, I opted not to shower, the option being a cold shower in a shed with rain pouring through the roof – instead I boiled a kettle and washed in Oscar. Howard, on the other hand, stalked a man in a dressing gown across the grounds to a fitness suite and swimming pool in an adjoining complex, and cheekily used the shower there, before climbing back through he hedge. Needless to say, he couldn’t find a ladies shower.
We trawled through the camping App, and discovered the most of the campsites in Italy don’t seem to open until the end of March – strange, since in Spain and Portugal there was no problem at all. Of the ones that are open, they are either miles away from us, or the nearest, about 50km away, has a review saying ‘the prostitutes patrolling outside the gates at night were a problem’. No thank you!
So we bit the bullet and booked into a hotel on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius. The drive around the outskirts of Naples was predictably bad – we have decided that Italians have no manners when it comes to driving, they constantly cut us up, and never, and I mean, NEVER, indicate. It is like a national disease. But the worse vice of all is their constant hooting. Howard got so fed up with one driver this morning, that uncharacteristically he leant hard on Oscar’s horn and shouted ‘You too b….tard!’
Once we arrived at our hotel, things started to look up. It is situated on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius National Park, in a lovely position looking out over the Bay of Naples. I’m guessing the hotel is used a lot for functions, but is quiet this weekend, so we have been given a divine room with a lovely view – or it would be, if the loud cloud would lift!
After a reviving coffee (we actually declined a welcome drink, and asked for coffee), we set off initially with the intention of doing some of the walk up to Mount Vesuvius – but as we drove uphill, the mist was so low that we couldn’t even see the volcano, and at the gate to the park the road had been closed due to adverse weather. So Plan B. Instead we drove eastwards towards the sea and stumbled across the town of Pompei. We stopped to admire the central plaza and church of San Pelegrano, and for a few minutes the sun peeked out. Enthused by this upturn in the weather, we decided to chance our luck and explore the ruins of Pompei. It proved to be an astute move. Being such a poor day, weather wise, there was hardly a soul about. So despite the constant threatening leaden skies, we walked around at our leisure and took in the atmosphere. I remember learning about Pompei at school – and images that I had only previously seen in next books started popping into view – the wonderful paved walkways, the houses with raised bricks for the heating system, the bodies caked in ash who fell as they fled from the advancing pyroplastic surges and molten ash. I’m not really a great fan of archaeological sites, but I was impressed with the scale of this one. Little details were extraordinary. You had to pinch yourself to imagine that the frescos on the walls were over two thousand years old. The beautifully preserved theatre and hot baths were impressive, but I did wonder why Howard insisted we trek miles to house 18 in the 8th sector – needless to say it was the brothel, with accompanying frescoes on the walls.
So what started as a rather miserable looking day, actually turned out to be rather good. Now, as I type, the hotel owner seems to be cooking us tea, since the restaurant is not open this early in the season. Hopefully, he can cook, as well as being a very friendly hotelier!

Howard, Oscar and myself heaved a collective sigh of relief as we drove out of Rome, and what is the madness of their driving. It was much more straightforward leaving. We chose to ignore Natasha completely, and go with Boris, who was basically leading us away from the Ancient city on a dead straight Roman road – perfect. We hit the motorway and headed southwards in the direction of Naples. We were already noticing a marked difference in the driving style between the Italians, and the Spanish and Portuguese, the latter of whom, in retrospect, had been incredibly courteous and patient with us. So we chose to hug the slow lane behind lorries for most of the journey, deciding this was the safer option. Both satnavs, at separate times, warned us of snow blizzards ahead, but there was no snow in evidence by the time we progressed to that part of the route. We stopped briefly at some motorway services for fuel and a comfort break. Howard declared he had experienced the most revolting (and expensive) cup of coffee of the trip, and I was less than pleased to discover that the toilets were mixed sex – a first. The Italians also seem not to go in for toilet seats – even in the Vatican City, which frankly could well afford them, had decided that they were an unnecessary extravagance. But we’ve seen plenty worse in our time, and were looking forward to the next part of our trip. The weather improved a little as we drove further south, and for the first time in days, the sun peeked through. The countryside was starting to open up, with mountains to our left, and olive groves mainly on the right.
We had booked, or so we thought, a campsite on the coast just below Naples, which sits in the crater of an extinct volcano. It had rave reviews on our camping App, even with a restaurant, and we were looking forward to spending two nights there. We found it easily enough, but were puzzled as to why, when I pressed the buzzer at the gate and spoke, no-one replied. A helpful shopkeeper stepped from across the road to inform me that it wasn’t open. Ah – that would explain why they hadn’t replied to our email, Howard concluded! This was not an uncommon occurrence, I am guessing, since the shopkeeper then helpfully directed us to the next nearest open campsite 7km down the road, proclaiming it be good. I have little doubt that he is friends with the owner! So we duly found the said campsite – it is indeed open, but it is probably the scruffiest campsite we have come across to date, and appears to be situated in the middle of a large noisy roundabout! To add insult to injury, there appears to be no hot water and the internet doesn’t work. We have opted to stay tonight since it is getting dark, but we will move on down the coast tomorrow and hopefully find somewhere better. In the meantime, Howard and I are consoling ourselves with a large Caorrun and lots of chocolate. I leave you with Howard expressing his distaste!

It was a rather dull and overcast morning here in Rome, and the weather seemed to reflect the mood of the commuters who shared the crammed bus with us into the city. There was no lively chatter or conviviality – in fact everyone looked a little glum. As we made our way through the suburbs into the city centre, I felt that their lack of bonhomie echoed the mood of the city. As yesterday, I was struck by the sense of decay. Buildings looked drab, and in need of a good coat of paint. Rubbish sat on the streets, overflowing from bins. Graffitti was everywhere. And yet, as we approached the city centre, we started seeing amazing monuments to the city’s past – the city walls, huge Roman columns, the Colosseum, the Palatine Hill. I wondered how much the country’s dire economic situation had to do with this apparent lack of pride, and reflected on what would happen to the UK once we left Europe – certainly the economic predictions for the next decade post Brexit aren’t too encouraging.
As we got off our bus, and headed to the rendezvous point for our Vatican City tour, it started to drizzle and the light was monochromatic – a good morning to be indoors. We met our guide for the morning, an American lady from Chicago, and recognised a few of our group from the day before at the Colosseum. Within five minutes or so, I realised that this was going to be a trial for me. Howard and myself usually avoid this sort of tour group like the plague, but with only two days to see Rome, and an even greater dislike of queuing, we thought that this would be the best way to see the Vatican City. We were all handed out earplugs and microphone sets so that we could hear the guide, and then my worst fears were realised, as she brought out from her bag a flag on a long telescopic pole! Then it started – an incessant rambling commentary that went on, and on, and on, and on! The tour was supposed to last two hours – but from start to finish it was exactly three and a half! Talk about getting our moneys worth! Howard glimpsed at me from time to time, partly to give me a sympathetic smile, and often just to check that I wasn’t going stir crazy. That being said, the Vatican Museum, and gardens, the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica were pretty amazing – I just would have loved to have wandered around on my own, rather than have a constant chatter in my ear. Sometimes, less is more, and the information overload did nothing for my appreciation of the place. The other thing that immediately strikes you as you enter the Vatican City, which is actually a sovereign state in it’s own right, the world’s smallest in fact – is the enormous contrast from the capital around it. This is a place of immense wealth and stunning treasures. It’s antiquities are well maintained and beautifully presented. The buildings ooze grandeur. The place is spotless. It positively shouts majesty! Yet it’s city walls only extend three kilometres in perimeter, the total area is 110 acres and the population is only around 1,000. Inside the museum, some of the greatest artworks reside – stunning Roman statues, beautiful tapestries, and of course, Michelangelo’s masterpiece, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It was all pretty amazing – I just could have done without the running commentary in my ear!
As we came out into St. Peter’s Square – the light took on an almost sepia tone. We then walked down to the River Tiber, crossing one of the bridges, making our way back into the city. Up until this point, I had been luke-warm about this ‘eternal city’. But as we veered slightly off the main tourist trail, we stumbled across the most vibrant part of the city we had experienced so far – charming little backstreets and alleyways – where there were real locals, rather than people attempting to sell tourist tat, or begging for money. We stumbled across a little cafe, full of students and not a tourist in site – it was a gem. Yesterday, by the Colosseum, we had paid 17 euros for two coffees and a cake, today we paid 20 for two coffees, two lunches of pasta and a cake, and it was delicious. Much more like the Rome we had been hoping to see. Moving on, we came across a gorgeous square, with two stunning fountains, and lively bars and cafes round about it.
We set off to find the Trevi Fountain, one of those ‘must-do’ tourist sites in Rome, and en route came across a row of shops we christened ‘Bishops R Us’. These shops had to be seen to be believed – selling what looked liked Bishop’s, Cardinal’s and Papal robes along with other religious paraphernalia – only in Rome! Then suddenly everything changed. We came across a Square which was preparing to stage a political demonstration – with banners and stage all set up – not so unusual, since it is the general election on Sunday. Crowds had begun to gather, and so had the police. But as we walked to an adjoining Square, groups of opposing supporters were gathering, shouting and letting off red smoke. At this point, all hell let loose – sirens blared, vans pouring out riot police appeared – it was like a repeat of Barcelona a few days before. I started talking to a policeman, asking the way to the Trevi, but at that point a shout came out on his radio, and he threw on his helmet and went into action. It was at this moment that Howard and I decided to take a rain check on the Trevi Fountain, and grab a taxi back to the hotel. It was ten euros well spent. For some reason we seem to be encountering civil unrest on this tour!
So tomorrow we leave Rome. We have mixed feelings about the place. Initially it appeared rather grim, like a city in recession – but latterly we saw another side to it, a much more positive and vibrant aspect. I am very happy to have visited, but will be relieved to have a break from cities for a while, and see some of the countryside that Italy has to offer. Hopefully the drive out of the city will be less stressful than our drive in!