Pisa

We were woken this morning by a cacophony of church bells and rapid gunfire. Alarming as it may sound, it was just the call to mass, and people out shooting in the surrounding countryside. The rain was heavy, the cloud a thick blanket over the mountains. Late morning, we drove down to the nearby seafront, but with the rain forever persistent, we decided not to stop, but drive on a little further towards Pisa.

In a village on route, we found a nice parking area opposite the church. The weather was beginning to settle, so we opened the side door of the van and put the kettle on. After a short walk, we returned to Marge for our lunch, whilst listening to the piercing thrill of the birds in the nearby trees.

The drive into Pisa was easy, the traffic light, as it was Sunday, and still quite early in the tourist season. We easily found the aire, which is just a mile and a half from the tower. After paying our 12 euros for a 24 hour stay, to a very nice Italian man, who spoke some English (we're still at the beginning of learning some basic Italian), we set off to the city centre.

We had already glimpsed the tower on the road in, but were not prepared for the sight that awaited us. This time last year, if someone had told us, we would be standing next to the leaning tower of Pisa this time, this year, we would not have believed them.

The tower of gleaming white marble, looked like a model, but on closer inspection you could see the originality, and deformities, that were not quite so obvious at first sight.

The tower is alongside the cathedral, the two buildings together looked striking. The area was busy, with persons of all nationalities, in particular, Chinese, American and Indian, all wanting that famous photograph of seemingly holding up the tower.

All around, the buildings were stunning, and on one of the manicured lawns there was a fantastic sculpture of 'the fallen angel'. We walked for hours, with so much to see. At every turn white marble, dazzling in the sunlight, even the kerb stones are marble here, and at last nights aire, they had placed marble discs in the concrete to divide the parking spaces.

Despite, the awful weather of the morning, the afternoon weather was lovely, a pleasant suprise, as we were expecting today to be a wash out.

To end the day it had to be 'Pizza in Pisa'. A welcome sit down, outside in the warm evening air, the pedlars as usual not far away, up for a banter with you. 'Do you want to buy a watch?'. 'I have a watch'. 'But mine are better' 'Yes, but mine was cheaper!'

Other views around the city.

Tomorrow, before we leave, we will take a very short walk, over to the large supermarket behind us, hoping to find an English guidebook on Italy. We stupidly forgot to buy one before we left.

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Camaiore

After a night of rain, the weather seemed a little more settled, as we ate our breakfast. A Dutchman parked near us, is giving Marge the eye. The Marge we know and love, likes that kind of attention. John says, 'she's not for sale'. I reply, 'she might have been this time last week!'.

It's Saturday today, and the toll road is full of Italians, all thinking they are driving race cars. Soon we are passing through the port city of Genoa, besides acres and acres of containers stacked high, we could see the cruise ships. several decks high, a huge block of glass, like icebergs. The houses and apartments, a mix of yellow, green and terracotta, stacked up the hillside, claiming every available space. Much of today's drive was in semi-darkness, as we drove through tunnel after tunnel through the mountains, some over a mile long. As we left chaos of the city, the road rolled through the lush green countryside, where we crossed into the region of Tuscany.

We could see to our left, the bright white, of the marble being quarried on the mountainside. Above, the cloud hung in the folds and crevices of the steep slopes above.

Tonight's aire is in the town of Camaiore, near Livorno. The hills surround us, and from time to time their peaks disappear into the moving clouds. This afternoon, we took our usual walk out, despite the rain. Donned with our umbrellas, we enjoyed looking at the church, passing the flower seller opposite the cemetery, doing a strong trade.

The church was lovely, inside, the roof a simple wooden design, in contrast to the one yesterday, so ornately decorated. In the narrow streets, despite the weather, the town was busy.

We were not deterred by the rain, likening it to the lake district, which from our photographs, anyone who knows the lakes will recognise.

(Yes, that is a 10 metre long model of a Saturn 5 rocket outside the town hall?)

Passing by the shops, we were impressed by the way the customers lent their umbrellas outside, even at the supermarket, where we stocked up on more fruit and vegetables. The bargain of the day, two medium sized aubergines for 0.59 euro. We will use one of these in tonight's vegetable curry.

As we walked back to the van, the rain had ceased, and the sun was reappearing, warming our faces. Back at Marge, her side door open to enjoy the warmer weather, John took a walk across the aire, to talk to a couple from North Wales. We have only had contact with four couples from the U.K. since arriving in Europe, and that briefly. On returning from talking to them, the man who owns the van next to us, and appears to be living in it, arrives in his Piaggio. These vehicle are common in this country, and whilst in the town, we saw quite a few of them parked in front of a bar.

Tomorrow we will head towards Pisa.

Finally for any lovers of steel framed bicycles, this must have been a real top end bike with it's beautiful chromed lug work, they don't make them like this anymore....

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Celle Ligure

'Benvenuto in Italia'. Yes, welcome to Italy Marge, we made it, after just over 1,000 miles of carefree motoring!

This morning before we left the aire, we noticed an election poster for the European elections on a board attached to the fence behind our van for a party wanting Frexit. Have they learned nothing from out mess!

The clouds hung around the top of the mountains. Thoughts were on the drive down the 'helter skelter', they call a road here, back down off the mountain to the toll road. The locals are confident with the drive, driving at idiot speeds, and overtaking on mass on the bends, sounding their car horns to warn oncoming traffic, very considerate of them. Luckily the road was fairly quiet, and Marge sailed down fairly confidently.

So we've made it, we're over the border and into Italy. Just one blip, as we stopped at the toll booth, but luckily, a very nice Italian attendant came to our aid, relieving us of E20.80. Still, it was worth it for the easy drive, I think Marge was relieved to be removed from the assault course of roads we'd been subjecting her to over the last few days.

Tonight's aire, is on the coast a Celle Ligure, near Savona, in the Liguria region. On the way here we passed many glasshouses, decaying and derelict. We thought they must have been used to grow tomatoes for the local community. A practice now moved to mass production. However, the large glasshouse near us seems to be in use.

After lunch, we set off on what would turn out to be a three hour walk of the town and seafront.

We spotted three original Fiat 500 cars. When we see these cars, it always reminds me of my friend Sue, who used to give me a lift home after a night out back in the seventies. The town was interesting, but quiet until 3.00 pm, when the businesses reopened after lunch. Outside of one bar, we saw two elderly ladies, catching up over a coffee, one of them fully 'pop socked' to the knee.

We took a look at the church, beautiful.

Along the seafront, we were pestered by migrant pedlars selling cheap watches and handbags, their friendly smiles disappearing in a flash when we said no. Because of the immigrants, for reassurance, we are going to put our extra locks on Marge tonight.

Being in Italy, tonight in Marge is pasta night.

On the way back to the van we stopped at one of the supermarkets, where John (having run out of Chateauneuf du Pape), picked up a very nice 1.5 litre bottle (plastic of course), of Sangiovese Puglia at E1.69. Let's hope it's a good year!

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Sospel

Laying in bed this morning, with the large glass sunroof above our head open, we marvelled at the perfect blue sky back-lighting the trees. We could hear the pouring waters of the nearby falls, as they cascaded into the pool below. How lucky were we, to be experiencing something so lovely?

Today we were hoping for a more tranquil drive in Marge. But read on. Passing through Grasse, the home of French perfume, the road climbed, affording fantastic views for the passenger. The road to Nice was also climbing and winding with lots of sheer drops and hair pin bends, but now confident in Marge, we took it in our stride. Along one of these roads, we saw a mobile barbers at a lunchtime stopping point for the lorry drivers, which we thought was a good idea. Then we arrived in Nice. Palm trees, parasols, red hot pokers, astro turf, sun, sea and traffic, lots of traffic. But the roads in Nice are both steep and narrow. Finding there to be no space at the aire, we decided to try another about half an hours drive away . No Marge the bridge is 2.9 metres clearance and you are 3 metres high. So much to the annoyance of the French, who took to sounding their horns, Marge had to do a four point turn in a very narrow road. But that's not all. No Marge, I don't think you'll fit, as the road narrowed. Marge is a tad over two 2 metres wide, it was just too tight. So another tight turnaround, and more sounding of horns. Already nervous by all this, there were the youngsters on their scooters to keep an eye on. Daredevils, who thought they were protected from harm or even death. By 3 pm, Marge's driver was fearful of a heart attack, the stress was too much. So we stopped in the Lidl car park for lunch. Our feelings, 'get us out of here, this place is hell on earth'. Nice, is a never again! On the plus side we had a lovely lemon tree next to us as we ate our lunch.

So nerves still frayed, we decided to push on for a further hour and a half. But now it was good bye to scenic routes, and hello toll roads, what could go wrong? Marge won't fit under there she's over 2 metres, reverse. Put a euro coin in the toll machine, haven't got one. Put in a two euro coin then. Sorted, we're off. Oh no, another toll booth. It will not accept the coins. Push for assistance, a voice says 'can you speak slower'. Yes, but the lorries behind would like a quick solution. Money finally accepted we're off. Long slow gradients and tunnels through the mountains, were reminiscent of Spain, We had already discussed that old Marge (our previous van, would not have survived this far today), and new Marge with a full water tank, eased up the gradients.

Tonight's aire is in the mountains, so after we left the toll road, it was another white knuckle ride, climbing higher and higher, too close to the edge for comfort, along a road not really wide enough for two lanes of traffic. It was a case of taking possession of the road, holding your nerve, and on a wing and a prayer, swinging Marge around another blind hairpin bend, hoping that we did not meet one of the large lorries coming in the other direction. Do something every day that scares you. Is it suppose to be just the one thing?

We are now safely on the aire, along with a few other vans who survived the journey. We took a walk into the nearby town.

We can tell we are near the Italian border by the design of the buildings. They are tall and narrow, with balconies on every level, each displaying a rainbow of colour from the drying washing.

Through the town, the river flows under the stone bridge, tumbling over the edge at the far end. In the square, two early evening games of boules are being played, which we watch briefly before looking at the war memorial. We notice that more civilians were killed than military personnel in the second world War in this area. Perhaps they were in the resistance.

Walking around the town, we were lured into narrow cobbled passage ways, which led to cobbled streets and the square in front of the cathedral.

As the light fades, and the air cools, the surrounding mountains are dominant. The soft lights, glow in the town down below, and the river can be heard as it dances over the rocks.

Shortly after arriving at tonight's aire, a young American man came over to talk to us. He and his partner lived in Winchester, so quite near to our home town. They are also heading to Italy to watch the Giro, a famous Italian cycle race. He was a keen cyclist, and said he drove the roads, as he would cycle them. A bit worrying. After commenting on the fact we were supposed to be on holiday, but it sometimes felt like an endurance test, he simply said, 'I like to call it life', and do you know what, we have to agree with him!

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