2.5 more sleeps! Yes 2.5, given that we need to be at the airport for 3am on Monday morning, it's 2.5.
The excitement is starting to simmer. We still have so much to do. 3 bikes to pack and clothes for 6 weeks. We fly straight to Milan and will start our holiday with two weeks of training in Italy prior to the "big race". Then after that 4 weeks of tripping through Italy and the UK.
Yep - I am ready.
This diary entry is just a starter so that I can share the link. You probably won't hear much from us on here until mid next week. But I promise we will upload lots of enviable photos and descriptions of our travels.
'til then - Shannon
Here we are in Sondrio at the end of a very long two days of travelling. Day one, nothing worth mentioning, suffice to say that flying really is an amazing invention, but goddam when it's any longer than a couple of hours its just awful, We flew Perth to Dubai, stopover in Dubai for about 3 hours and then Dubai to Milan. We arrived in Milan at 8.50 Italiy time and by now we were ready for some sleep. Having left home some 20 hours earlier.
With 6 of us flying to Italy together, and all of us with bikes, luggage is fun. We stayed our first night at the Sheraton at the Mialn Airport, to give us time to sleep, adjust and pick up hire cars.
The morning of Day 2 started off with hire car collection and then we were off, heading first to a cycling museum Madonna del Ghisallo in Magreglio. With 3 cars between us and all of us equipped with trusty mapping devices we headed off. There appeared to be somewhat of an issue with our mapping system (read user) and I managed to navigate us to Madonna del Ghisallo street in some little backwater town about 40 minutes away from our intended location. This combined with the stress of driving on the "wrong" side of the road in a left hand drive car lead to some less than chirpy moments of conversation between Paul and I , but in the end we made it safely to the musuem. The musuem was fantastic! The photos probably dont do it real justice, the historical memrobilia is incredible. After our stop at the chapel and museum and the thickest most deluxe hot choclate ever at the cafe, we headed onward to Bellagio.
The roads in Italy are nothing like what we are used to in Australia. They are narrow and windy and you really can't afford to take your eyes off for one second, which is a real shame as some of the views are just breath taking.
We arrived in Bellagio on Lake Como. This place is goreous. It feels and looks just like you would expect a lakeside town in Italy to look like. Bellisimo! We stopped for lunch and didnt hestitate to order some incredible pasta dishes and a bottle of wine, before wondering down the street for some holiday gelato.Our final destination for today - Tuesday was Sondrio. Our good friend Matt, who is somewhat of a built in tour guide, suggested we catch the ferry across the lake rather than the drive. I was so excited by this, as I haven't done car on ferry. What fun! A little scary driving onto the ferry (and I was only the passenger), but we all took enormous glee in getting out of our cars and oohing and ahhing at the views of the incredible mountains and taking lots of photos. We then arrived on dry land and continued on our way to Sondrio.
By bedtime between the 6 of us, we had managed to:
- get our bikes built ready to ride
- have the occassional dummy spit arguments over driving and navigatinal issues
- eat more fantastic food (I had the best gnocci for dinner!)
There is so much more to see and do, but the last two days have been exhausting and tonight we are looking forward to some quality sleep. Tomorrow will see us out on the bikes and we can start working towards acclimatising to the steep terrain here. Those mountains are gorgeous to look at but I fear my legs will have something less than positive to say when we start climbing!
So far - amazing!
Every year somewhere magical in the world the UCI hold a Masters World Championship Cycling Final. In order to get to race at the final you need to qualify. There are several qualifying races held around the world. Perth has been lucky enough to have one of those qualifying races for the last three years. In the first year, Paul and I both qualified, that year the final was in Belgium. As much as we were keen to go, local economics (building a house) suggested that we didnt go. Last year we missed the qualifying race. This year, knowing that it was in Italy, was a case of 'ooh, lets plan a holiday'. So come April with both of us having qualified we started planning a holiday. The bonus being that some good friends had also qualified.
So the holiday planning began. Fast forward to Monday 9 September 2013 and 6 of us boarded the plane in Perth to head to Italy to start our Italian adventures.
Our friend Matt who orinates from Italy was instrumental in helping us pull the holiday together. The bonus of having friends coming on the same trip to race the same race, means we have had great training buddies over the last 6 months. Of course we were all well aware that training on hills anywhere in WA would not come close to riding up mountains in Italy, but you can only work with what you are given.
Chris and Tanya, are also with us. As is Doug. A solid group of cyclists, and some fantastic sense of humours combined with the odd assertive personalities and strong opinions and we have got ourselves one kickass group to hang with. To top it off Matt's sister Gemma and her friend Caroline have joined us. The bonus for us "Aussies" is that with Matt, Gemma and Caroline all being able to converse in Italian, so far we are not really encountering a language barrier!
So far the Italian adventure is an incredible one, sharing it with friends makes it all that more amazing.
Given that this is the first time either of us has been to Italy, today was always going to have some pretty special "firsts" to add to our list. The day started off simply with breakfast at our hotel with Chris and Tan. Doug and Matt rode over to meet us and then we all headed out on our bikes. For Paul and me (and Doug) this was to be our first ride in Italy. And what a ride it was. Unlike Perth, we didnt have to ride very far until we were climbing. Thanks to Matt knowing the area so well he was able to take us on a spectacular ride out of Sondrio and up a mountain. It wasnt a long ride, only 70kms, but wow there was some great climbing, views and more views and cows with bells.
While its very easy to get wrapped up in the pain in ones legs, there were many distractions. Of course remembering to ride on the other side of the road is a pretty big distraction and then there was the views. Looking up to the peaks of the mountains we could see snow, with the sun shining down on to them and the snow gleaming white in the golden sunshine it was incredible. Purely breathtaking, making riding a tad difficult as that too was somewhat breathtaking. We rode up a gorgeous road through some quaint, "out of a movie" looking villages. About 10kms up and the views were getting more and more spectacular. and then there was this gorgeous melodic bell ringing. Its all you could hear, it took me a while to realise that it was cows. Big pretty cows with swiss cowbels around their necks. As they ate and moved the bells chimed. Sweet music. On the side of a mountain with snow and sun on top. This was truly spectacular. We reached the top after 12 kms and stopped for a coffee break. of course being non coffee drinkers, we just stopped. Such a fantastic coffee stop, almost inspired me to take up drinking coffee! We couldnt stay for too long as we were starting to get cold and we had to descend back down the mountain. Descending is always colder. And it was. The descent was fantastic. Almost masked the pain of getting up there. Almost! We continued on our ride which included some other nice little climbs and villages and a bridge and eventually we made it back to the hotel.
Matt had planned a trip for us so we were under strict instructions to not faff about and to bring our passports. We then headed off, 8 of us in 2 cars with Matt leading the way. We were headed to a place called Livigno and the quicker way to get there was to go into Switzerland and then back out. Well driving through the Swiss Alps was mind blowing. We were in Chris and Tan's car and Chris did a superlative job. The roads are narrow and windy and somewhat scary at times. Add to the that the aaahhhmmaaaaaaazing views. There was constant cries of Oh my god, look at that! followed quickly by Not You Chris! Eyes on the road. This was constantly repeated for the hour that we wound our way through some awazing vistas reminscent of a Norsca ad. There are not enough adjectives to describe the magic of what we were seeing.
Eventually we arrived in Livigno. By now we were beyond starving and in the full throes of suffering "hanger" (hunger anger) and for some we were nearing the potemtial melt down. Due to the non faffing about post ride and then driving for some time we were staring down the barrel of 3 before we were going to get lunch, This wasnt great as we hadnt eaten after our ride. Thakfully none of us actually died and we eventually found our way to a Ristorante where we proceeded to gorge ourselves stupid. Hanger can make you think you need to order way more than you actually need.
So following lunch and having everyones equilibrium restored we were ready to explore Livigno. Livigno is located 1,816 metres above sea level. It is a ski village and has extensive shopping there, everything from adidas to Prada. We spent the day wondering and looking/shopping.
Of course being nestled into the heart of the Italian Alps, its not warm. Because I missed the info about where we were going, Paul and I got dressed in holiday mode and were wearing shorts and tshirts. Luckily we did have a jacket each with us. But it was seriously chilli and every shop that stocked ski gear had me seriously thinking that puffer jackets were attractive and that I should buy one. I resisted (thank god!) and did not come home with a puffer jacket.
We finally made it home (back though Norsca land) by about 7.30, Our 12 hour day was exhausting and the plans we had all made originally for dinner got shelved. Doug and Matt stayed in at Matt's place (cousins) and Chris, Tanya, Paul and I opted for an easy meal downstairs at our hotel.
The day was completely epic and I am so glad we got to see so much. It was indescribable, the beauty, the magic, the incredibleness of it all. Epic!
Cyclists get high. We get high on endorphins. The problem with the highs is, we also get low, and it seems what is a half low for normal people is the most depressing down low for cyclists.
Today was highs and lows.
Throw a group of cyclists together and its like hanging with a bunch of ADHD inflicted 8 year olds. With planning thrown in for bonus points.
Throw in some cold germs from flying cattle class for 20 hours and boom! You've got a potent mix.
This morning Paul and I went down for breakfast early, the problem for Paul is, I dont like to sleep, I dont sleep well at home and I sleep less when on holidays, I get wired, So as soon as I knew breakfast was open, we were downstairs ready.
Meanwhile in another hotel room not far away both Tanya and Chris had retired early the night beofre, fighting the aforementioned cattle class germs. Normally keen for an early breakky we didnt see them in the dining room. Not a good sign.
Eventually Matt and Doug rolled up and joined Tan and Chris for breakfast, after chatting with them, it was determined that no-one felt like riding in the a.m. and that we would go shopping and then ride after lunch.
For some cycling people, riding around midday throws us a little curve ball. What do you mean we dont have to get up at the crack of dawn and squeeze in as much cycling as possible before hitting the showers and landing at our desks at a time still accepted as being respectable! After some discussion about the fact that yes we are on holiday and yes it is okay to change things up a bit, we all eventually got on the same page and did a little shopping before lunch. Nothing exciting, no shoes as such to mention just yet!
After lunch, which was made in our hotel room, of air dried beef and cheese on bread (segway - seriously the supermarkets at home need to get some Italian training happening, supermarkets here are goddam amazing, I could retire and take up living in an Italian supermarket - they are THAT good). Anyhoo, lunch. Good, ate hanging out of the hotel room window marvelling at the view (still havent gotten sick of it) and then lycra time and bikes.
Poor Tan, was unable to join us, cold germs had taken hold and resting was the most sensible thing she could do (another mammoth challenge for cyclists, being sensible! So kudos to Tan on that one!) The rest of us headed out, the ride was good in parts, super horrible in others, I may have been heard to mumble "I hate Italy" at one stage (yes there was a hill involved), however I overcame that and soon grew to re-love Italy again.
After our ride we all went our separate ways. Paul and I partly packed the car for tomorrow as we leave Sondrio in the morning. And then we went and explored some shops. If I was super financial, there are many things that I would have bought today, including about 4 pairs of OMG shoes. However with the starting price of the shoes I was eyeing off as being 350 Euro, I decided on 'not today'.
Dinner brought us all back together for the evening and we landed in some very "Italian" restaurant. It was super cool, the food was amazing as was the service. I had a gypsey meat stick - far out! There is a photo somewhere which I will post soon when I can. And even though the meat stick was way more than enough I also forced down a dark choclate souffle, seriously the most amazing souffle I have ever had. Bellisimo!
So another incredible Italian day. We have some germs floating around and we are all frantically throwing back the Redoxan (vitamin C) and "positively thinking" colds away.
Tomorrow we head to Lake Garda. Here's to an incredible holiday already. Italy - you are amazing!
Mama Mia! What a long day. I am writing this at 1:30 am on Saturday morning, our day began yesterday at around 7:30 am. We were up for breakfast in Sondrio, then packing cars and all that goes with departing one town for another.
By 9.15 we were on the road, a convoy of 3 cars, 8 people, 6 of us the cycling variety, 2 of us the Prada shopping variety (mind you I do have it in me to cross over to the Prada side, if only my timetable would allow!). 7 bikes, endless bags and suitcases, we were on the next roadtrip. The first part of the journey was visually glorious. The roads were narrow and windy and everything an Italian road should be, complete with stunning views. Scary driving, as still we are on the wrong side of the road, and for Paul and I, our hire car, a Fiat Scudo, 8 seater van, is not the easiest swiftest moving vehicle.
At one part of the convoy, we lost Chris and Tanya, they dropped the wheel and missed the exit we took off the autostrada. The autostrada is an incredible experience. Motorists behave in an entirely different fashion. Road rage is not road rage, its polite and reserved. Its more tolerable and understanding. Speed limits appear to be merely a guideline rather than a must do. Our poor van had its neck wrung out at 132km an hour trying to keep up with Matt's swifty little Ford Focus wagon. Eventually we arrived at the Garda Bike Hotel in Peschiera (without Chris and Tan). We checked in and checked the place out! Fantastic! This place is made for cyclists. There is an incredible lock up bike room, the bike room is like a bike garage, storage for hanging LOTS of bikes, pigeon holes for shoes and helmets, bike stands, a water dispenser, a bike wash bay, all the cleaning gear - the list is endless. The meals are included in your accommodation package. And the lunch buffet is beyond amazing. It really has everything.
After lunch by the pool followed by some time to relax, unpack properly etc, we headed out for a cruisy mid afternoon ride. Just a short ride today with a "coffee" stop on the way back in a diamond of a town called Lazise. Magnificent! Our coffee stop included, photos by the lakeside of Lake Garda and a small beer for Paul and Matt, Chris had a latte, Doug and Tanya had the most impressive hot chocolate seen yet, and that is saying something as hot chocolates in this country are a whole new ball game. I had my first ever Campari. As you do mid-ride, afterall, when in Rome anywhere in Italy...., of course that seemed like a grand idea until we were stomping along at 45km an hour on the ride home, in lots of traffic in a balmy 27-28 degree sunny afternoon.
On the ride home we caught up with a big group of touring cyclists on hybrid bikes. It took all of our restraint to not fall off from looking too hard as one by one we noticed many of the women were without tops and just riding in bras. Strange! Very strange. Not even pretty, I would definitely show these off in public type bras, more your over the shoulder boulder holder type. Decided against the 'when in Rome' theory on this one and left my top on.
We had been advised on check in that dinner would be at 6.30 so after lounging away the last 2 hours of our afternoon we all headed downstairs for dinner. A most simple and delightful tomato pasta dish. Lovely.
Then we were ready to get the bikes packed and head to Verona. Tonight was the night that we were scheduled in to do an under lights Team Time Trial. Only short and uphill, it was going to be 'all out effort balls to the wall hang on for dear life' kinda ride. Our teams were:
We got there around 8.30pm, got changed, rolled around, tried to find a good place to warm up. I was freaking out. I was seriously stressed at the thought of riding with Chris and Doug two A grade very powerful men, that I am not used to riding with. The relief factor came in knowing that the time was taken on the second bike to cross, so in theory only two had to finish together. On the start line I was a little freaked out by my own stress levels. Detaching myself from that though it really is a most fantastic event to do. On the start line, my heart rate was sitting on 119 before starting, woh! way too high! We started, Team One all the way from 'Australie', very amazing hearing the commentators call your name and your country out. What an experience. To quote Doug, 'definitely a bucket list tick'. The course was fast, hard and sharp. The first 1 km was flat and had fast bends and corners, then it started climbing, 6 switch backs and then bang - the finish line. All up a measly little 3.6kms, but took nine and a half minutes (for me), the boys did it in about seven and a half. The toughest 3.6kms I have ever done, It goes without saying that I did not finish with Chris and Doug, thats okay, I was never going to. But still an amazing amazing experience. We then waited at the top for Team Two from Australie to arrive. Paul and Matt crossed the line in a good time. And Tanay came through a bit later, also in a very good time.
After most of us hugged, congratulated and talked a bit of post race bullshit, it was time to get back to the starting area. The descent was over the other side of the hill. Chris and Doug left before us and we followed not too long after. When the four of us (Matt, Tanya, Paul and I) got to the bottom we discussed which way we should turn. Left was voted in and so we did. We should not have. Turns out left took us through some suburban part of Verona and after a while we realised we were not where we should be. We stopped and asked a couple for directions to where the old castle was. After following those directions we then agreed this was not heading in the right direction, so we stopped to ask a man with his dog. He gave the same directions, after more pedaling we opted for turning around and heading back. Then we asked a man off a garbage truck where the centre of Verona was, he agreed that we were indeed quite lost and pointed us back to town. We made it back to what may have been town and again conceded that we were lost. We had already previously tried phoning for help (thankfully I had my phone on me, only to take photos at the finish line, but I had it!). This time Doug answered his phone, I could have cried. He asked someone for the address of where they were, and sent the text through, the GPS didnt really work out all that well on a successful location of the street. Eventually we wound our way into some streets that sounded a bit like what the garbage man had mentioned so we thought we were on track, And then we realised, no we were not. This time we saw a police car, so we asked the policeman. He gave us directions of a right and left and a right and a bridge. Eventually we got the bridge. Again, we got out the phone, this time we were told, stay where you are, we are coming to collect you. At this stage, it's probably pertinant to point out that, it wasnt just Doug and Chris waiting for us, it was also Gemma and Caroline as well as Nicola (who owns the Hotel) and about 6 hotel guests who had all come in the van to watch the "Australian" teams race. Of course they couldnt go back without us, as our bikes had to be out in the van they were travelling in. We were all in Matt's car. So our location of 'New Bridge' was provided and in time they came and collected us. We had ridden nearly 17kms to "nowhere" of what should have been a 3.5km return trip. By this stage it was nearly midnight. We still had to drive back to the hotel, roughly about 20ish kms. We got back and unloaded the bikes. Matt offered to buy the guests a beer as an apology for us delaying their trip back. So we headed down to the bar to help apologise. As none of them showed, I guess they were pretty tired, and probably not too impressed with the fancy "Australian Team".
A pretty big day all up. Poor Tan spent a good deal of it being lost. Either in car or by bike. Rather embarrassing, the thought of bumping into the guests that came to watch, hopefully they can forgive us. But the event, the event is awesome and if I am ever back this way I will definitely do it again. With a different team, team mates more evenly matched would be better. But it was mostly a fun night. Even the getting lost was fun, if only we could have found ourselves and stayed lost for 25 minutes instead of 45 minutes.
Tomorrow (today) is another day and another ride.
Today was epic. The plan, as we understood it, was to meet at 10 am ready to go for an easy/steady 65ish kms.
The late start was welcomed thanks to our very late night last night.
We headed out after breakfast for our steady roll. It was delightful. Steady like a kind of Loop of Gayness, Fixie Friday, recovery type ride. Spinning along enjoying the scenery at an easy 25ish km ph. Just what was needed in preparation for tomorrow's Gran Fondo ride.
As we were winding our way down another hill, a Lamborghini went flying past in the other direction, Doug was most impressed and exclaimed seeing a Lambo in Italy was indeed another bucket list tick.
About 24 kilometres into the ride we stopped at a cafe. Apparently we were meeting with another group before heading to our lunch destination for a "fat lunch". We werent sure what that was going to be, but it didnt matter. The other group arrived, we merged and continued riding. Turns out the other group was going at a different speed to our ride. Before long, after some initial missing barriers and pack position jostling, the ride settled into what really can only be described as as a Bunchie.
So while I was happy and relieved with the easy ride we were originally on, I soon got caught up in the Bunchie mode and started to enjoy the ride. The scenery was awesome and we rode through some delightful country narrow rides. Spectacular! It was a great ride not without some traffic/rider interaction that was interesting (even entertaining). At one stage we stopped at a red light, about 30-40 riders, a car coming through horned us and came around to go through the light, realising at the last minute it was red, they slammed on the breaks. The car was now level with the front of the bunch, only on the other side of the road. Riders started yelling in Italian, some of which may or may not have meant "move your car animal, stupid" etc etc. It didnt really matter what they were saying, it was fun to listen to and watch.
We rode on, witnessed a car trying to overtake us mearly collide with a car coming the other way. A toot of the horn and they sorted themselves out and kept on going. After about 70mks we arrived at our lunch destination. An old building. Gorgeous. Inside was a big kitchen, a big toilet, 2 big rooms. One set up with rows of tables for lunch. Lunch was, not anything I could actually bring myself to eat. There was a gruel type side dish, which after asking I discovered it was made from bread and butter and marrow and stirred in a pot for a long time until it bacame a smooth gruel like consistency. This was served with some tongue and some ugly sauasage thing that was made from pig. I manned up and tasted everything on my plate all open minded prepared to devour it. Thankfully there was bread, as I ended up not able to eat the main course.
On the table were bottles of beverages. Sparkling water, iced tea, soft drinks, coke, red wine and sparkling white wine. And beer. Then the shortbread came out (best shortbread ever!) Juisto came and gave Tanya and I some red wine, turned out, it was very incredible. A bg board of hard cheese and a small knife came out (best cheese ever!) Then ice cream came out (best ice cream ever!). Oh lordy.
Thankfully we werent actually riding home, as Nicola had ridden back to the hotel to get the van to give us a lift home. We met some lovely people on the ride and at lunch, some from Ausralia, some from the UK and plenty of Italians.
No amount of writing can do justice to the ride and our lunch. We all agreed that it was simply just Epic!
When we got home, the afternoon consisted of lounging by the pool, just hanging and talking and then downstairs for dinner. A magnificent day.
Tomorrow we are all headed to Verona (eek!) as we are doing a Gran Fondo, we are all doing the 96km option, Doug has decided to do the 140km. We are banking on no one getting lost tomorrow. Fingers crossed for a successful day.
Today was to be one of the highlight riding days of our holiday. Through the fantastic people here at the Garda Bike Hotel we had organised to ride in a mass start participation event from Verona. The idea of a Grand Fondo is that anyone can do it at whatever pace they want to however you do have a number on and you get a published time at the end, this usually means there is some degree of racing!
Early start this morning up by 6 for breakfast to be packed and on the bus with bikes loaded to leave by 7.30. This early start was when things didnt quite go to plan for all of us. As I woke and Shannon spoke to me I realised she had come down with the cold a few others have had and I had been holding at bay for the last few days. Although very hard for her to sit this one out she immediately made the decision not to ride and stay home and look after herself with next weekends bigger goals in mind. This made the mood of our group a little somber as the other 5 of us along with about another 8 hotel guests loaded bikes and headed to Verona.
All of sudden we are there and rushing to put on helmets, bike shoes, pump up tyres and dash off to the start line. Found our way to the start line. On the start line we would have been 12-15 bikes wide and what looked like about 70-80 deep. We lined up somewhere around the 200 - 300 deep mark and waited. Then BOOM! A bloody cannon (yes a real cannon) went off and after the scare and shock from that we were off.
Now I wont bore you all with the ride details of who did what and what happened along the way, however to say the start was chaos is and understatement! Very scaryfor the first 30 minutes until the massive group started to split up as we got towards the Mountain. All 4 of us who started together finished in our own times in the 96km event and Doug who did the longer version 147km eventually finished hie Epic adventure 2 hours later. Unfortunately Matt had been one of those crashes we heard in the first few ks but he hadnt hurt himself or bike too badly and manged to get back on and finish even if it wasnt so comfortable for him after that. The ride went over one mountain pass of about 1000M high with spectacular views of the valley below. Now to say getting up there was hard would be an understatement. Approximately 9km climb up averaging 9% for nealy all apart from 1km of around 15%. Once up there the thrill of the descent was carefully measured by the risk of riding your bike downhill at an average of 70kmph for 10 minutes while not knowing the road and carefully manouvering the sharp turns some of which have no catch or crash barriers should you get it wrong.
On our return to the Hotel we were all a little weary so showers and lie down for the arvo or the late lunch downstairs which is served till 5pm was in order. This was followed by a special order dinner for our group by the hotel manager who had a red wine rissotto made for us as a starter then lamb and veggies for the main. Once again wonderful food to top off what for most of us was a great day. Shannon was getting better by the evening and had in everyone's opinion made the right call to sit this one out. And for once she didnt let FOMO (fear of missing out) get the better of her...
Everyone wants a piece of blog action. Matt is today's guest blogger:
Well today started as the other days at the fabulous Enjoy Garda Hotel started with a nice Breakfast and a bit of a chat. It was decided that we would ride on our own today and not do the hotel ride. Everyone was still a bit tired from the Avesani the day before and Shannon was still slightly under the weather.
The ride was uneventful apart from myself deciding to go off on my own to avoid a potential pfoofie.(footnote from Shannon: a pfoofie is like a tantrum, dummy spit and we take great joy in having somewhat of a pfoofie scoreboard and mercislessly teasing whoever throws the pfoofie. The first pfoofie of the holiday always gets the biggest points) Apparently Paul did the same not long after and the rest went off to Borgetto for lunch. From experience I can say that this is a great town.
After returning everyone had a bite to eat and then a few off us went off to Verona for a wander around. IMNSHO Verona is the shit. Just a great town. Plenty of atmosphere, great icecream, and lots and lots of Romeo & Juliet kitsch! The Arena is spectacular as is the main square. It is with out a doubt my favourite town in Italy.
We visited the house of Juliet and Shannon, feeling the need to get a change of luck, gave Juliet's statue a rub. To gain luck it is traditional to rub the right Boob, and rub she did and for sure now her luck will change for the better. I am sure a photo of said rubbing will appear soon.
We returned and as usual it was dinner. Starters were a risotto with Truffles or a pasta with Truffles. Magnificent. Second course was either turkey or Sword fish. All of this washed down with prosecco, spritz and finally grappa. Grappa is an interesting drink. Rocket fuel always comes to mind when I smell it. Drinking it is always good. This opinion was not shared by all, in fact no one else seemed to appreciate the subtleties of this fine Italian drink. PP didn't like it at all but had two anyway!! The look on his face suggested he had drunk poison but he did offer o drink the dregs of everyone else's glass. Perhaps he really did like it?
Once again another really good day living La Dolce Vita.
Today (Tuesday) was humongous! It started like every other, a relaxed start, a great breakfast lots of chatting. Then load the bikes in the van.
The Enjoy Garda Hotel organises rides on a daily basis. Today we opted to join them. We piled our bikes in the hotel van and headed off. We parked randomly on the side of a road somewhere, got out, on our bikes and headed off. We were only 18kms into the ride when Nicola (our ride guide from the Hotel) advised us that we were stopping for a coffee while we waited for the other group to join us. There was a group who had ridden from the hotel, none of us needed to do excess kilometres at this stage of our lead up to the weekend, hence the trip by van.
So we stopped for coffee, or hot chocolate (the hot chocolates in this country are incredible). The place we stopped at was called Roeno di Pagatti Rolando, gorgeous place, fantastic views. And we waited and waited and waited. The other group finally arrived and then they stopped for coffee, So we waited some more. Italy is great, nothing happens in a hurry, they take relaxed to a whole different level. For people like me who struggle to stop mid ride, the waiting was doing my head in. Always eager to climb a hard hill, I just wanted to get on with it (for those that are unsure of the tone there, I am never eager to climb a hard hill, hills are not my speciality), however I did just want to get on with it. Finally we were on the road. We stopped for a couple seconds at a fountain to top up water bottles (fountains here are basically a running tap of water off the mountain, gorgeous!) and then the climb began. We were told that we would re-group in 16kms. Great stuff, that isn't very far is it? In theory no. Going up a mountain, aahhhh yep it is. By the 8km mark I had started climbing 40 minutes earlier, we finally reached the pit stop location some 1 hour and 15 minutes after commencing climbing. There was food and coke and tea, all set up on the side of the road for us so that we could re-nutrition in preparation for the ongoing journey. The body uses a lot of fuel for that kind of climbing. And it gets cold at the top of mountains, and even though we weren't at the top, it was time to put arm warmers and jackets on. We waited for the others and eventually Nicola rode up and told us to keep going, he would wait for the others and Luca, the other guide from the hotel, would look after us and take us back to the van. Off we headed. Luca is a nice young Italian man, really the type of guide everyone should have! The next 6 kms of total ascent continued to be a bitch, then the next 15kms of descent, ascent, hard climbs, power climbs continued with the "Shanny's not having fun " theme of the day, and then we started the descent. Scary stuff, close to 30 of kms of trying to maintain decent speeds while attempting to check out the views at the same time.
With 1 km left of the descent, there was a big bang, this is normally the sound you will hear when one in a group of bikes punctures. Puncturing downhill is ridiculously dangerous, however, we were all okay. Everyone stopped and checked what the noise was, it appeared that we were all okay. As we started to move again Paul realised that his back tyre had popped of the rim, so we stopped to change his tyre and then made it to the van. We packed up and Luca drove us back to the hotel.
Today’s climbing was tough emotionally, probably not for the non-emotional amongst us, so okay, it was emotional for me. For a non-climber, it leaves you feeling raw and confronted. I may have muttered on more than one occasion, "I'm going to die", Paul (who is a mountain goat had decided to "ride slowly today" and stay with me to keep me company for this ride and he assured me that I would not die, I disputed it several times, but to no avail, I had no choice and had to keep on climbing), after declaring I was close to death, I also whispered, "I'd rather be shopping", this produced no different results so I continued to suffer. To climb well you need to be lean - skinny lean, I am neither of those leans, and climbing just brings to the surface any "I'm a fat-chick" insecurities you may have lurking beneath the surface. It definitely leaves you feeling somewhat insecure, not to mention tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. While working through the suffering I was also conscious that I was in Italy and I really needed to be enjoying the wondrous scenery that was unfolding around me. It really was glorious. The pain not so much.
Back at the hotel we showered, had a very late lunch and got in the car to go to a factory outlet that promised Prada, along with other brands. We took our car the 9 seater as the Prada twins, Caroline and Gemma were coming. They had waited patiently all day to come shopping with us. When we arrived at the outlet we discovered that actually there was no Prada. However we were there so the only decent thing to do was to have a look. Turns out it was "boys day out" as they walked away with the win in the shopping stakes. Paul bought several shirts and two pairs of jeans, Matt bought clothes and shoes and Doug bought shoes and a man-bag. The women came away empty handed. By now it was 7pm and we were getting very tired, we drove back to the hotel for another fantastic meal and chatting before heading off to bed.
What a day!
My Italian obsevations so far:
The last couple of days have been all about getting ourselves to Trento and settling in to get ready for the Time Trial. The drive from Lake Garda to Trento was mostly uneventful, with the exception that it took us somewhat longer than the estimated hour to get there. GPS discrepancies and in-car bickering may or may not have been contributing factors.
We arrived on Wednesday lunch time in Trento. We checked into our hotel, learnt that parking would cost us 11 Euro a night, with no free street parking available, we didn’t really have any choice.
Mid-afternoon we headed out to Cavedine where the Time Trial would be held. We drove the course and went, oh ouch, this is going to hurt. We then made plans to come out the next day to ride it easy. To just test the descents and get a feel for the technicalities of the course.
Margaret (Paul's Mum) and her husband John had arrived in Trento on the same day. Paul and I walked over to their hotel on Wednesday night and had a lovely time catching up over dinner, talking about how our respective holidays to date have been and how we all think Italy is incredible.
We met Phil, a Rota-M team mate out at the TT course on Thursday morning. Phil had already ridden the course a couple of times. It was a tough ride, and that was riding it easy. Friday was going to hurt.
Thursday afternoon was nothing short of a complete head fck! We had to go to the Time Trial race briefing and also race registration. Now I have previously mentioned the relaxed attitude of the Italians, so relaxing. This is great a lot of the time, however, it does not have a great flow on affect for anything requiring organisation. The registration process, even with a long queue would in theory not take very long, if done properly. When done the Italian way, it took near on 2 hours. To say there was tension growing in the queues would be putting it mildly. Finally we got out of there with our race numbers and timing chips in hand. As I walked out the first people I saw was my Mum and my baby brother Joseph (okay, he's not an actual baby, he is fully grown) I have seen Joseph for about 15 months, so I was uber excited to see him. We spent the afternoon wandering about, hanging with Mum and Jo, then caught up in the square with Marg and John as well as we watched a bit of an exhibition team cycling race that was on. Then I needed to go back to the hotel, it was time to get off my legs and rest for a bit. I was still fighting the last of my cold off and Paul by this stage was quite sick with it, so some down time was needed as we tried to prepare for the TT in the morning.
Thursday night we caught up with the rest of the gang who had arrived from Lake Garda and we had a quiet dinner in a German Italian restaurant (Goulash while in Italy, why not). We were one Prada Twin down as Caroline had left us and had headed to Milan. We made sure she was still there with us for dinner by sending her ongoing text messages.
Friday morning arrived well before I was ready for it to. Paul and I were driving our little bus there, we got up early, had breakfast, got organised and grouped up with the respective parentals and Joseph and all headed out to Cavedine. We arrived just before 8.30. My start time was 10.34 and Paul's was 3.26, it was going to be a long day.
First things first, bike check, Time Trial bikes have to meet certain measurements and other criteria, my bike passed easily. Then it was off to get dressed and warm up. Thankfully I was near the start ramp quite early as I was called up 11 minutes before my start time, this was not good. It meant that the two women before me had missed their starts. After I left, there was some arguing between some competitors and organisers, and they finally saw the error of their way and paused proceedings for ten minutes to get their timing back on track.
The time trial was brutal. A very very tough course. To be completely fair, I did not train specifically for it, nor did I do some things that I should have in preparation, lose weight, train differently etc., but even with all of those things, I may have been able to get 2-3 minutes quicker, it would only bump me up from 10th position to about 8th. The girls winning these things are a completely different level of completion. The woman that won my age group was the fastest woman overall and was faster than a lot of the men. Hard to compete with that! I am not severely depressed over my result. Lots of people are though. I think for some people, they may have learnt the difference between the small ponds they compete in at home, to the big pond that the world arena delivers. The gaps are significant. Overall, it was an amazing experience, nothing beats wearing a skin suit in your countries colours, riding, giving it your best thinking, 'oh my god, this is it, I am representing my country'. It’s an overawing experience, mind blowing. The atmosphere of the day was electric; it was so exhilarating to be there with 200 other Aussie competitors, all of us in kits, all supporting one another.
It was actually the hardest time trial I have ever ever done, without question. Somewhat soul destroying.
After my race I headed back to the car and got changed into my bike bitch clothes so that I could swap out with Paul. He had been bike bitch all morning for me. It was time to tag, my supporter, him racer. Phil was also with us, he was borrowing my time trial bike as his had met an unfortunate accident several days earlier and was not ride-able. I bike bitched around, and then headed off to the start line to be camera bitch and take photos of all the boys. After they all finished we compared notes on who it was most horrible for. Turns out we all rode the same course and it was pretty horrible for all of us.
Paul had a great TT, especially considering he did it on road bike with bars, not on a TT bike and was very happy with his result. Phil, Matt and Chris all tt'd as well, so it was a good hard day out. Tanya was there to provide ongoing support throughout the afternoon; it was a feel good (except for the feel bad bits) kind of day. So awesome to have so much support here and all the incoming messages from everyone at home.
After the roads re-opened we then drove the course to show Mum, Marg, John and Jo the course and then headed back to Trento. An early dinner with the gang, with a glass or two of celebratory red and it was time for bed.
Today was recover day and preparation for tomorrow's road race day. It included some mundane things like laundry and another race briefing. Another early night ahead and then ouch, big hard day tomorrow. Tomorrow night will see us all very very tired and sore. Then Monday we head off to Rome.
Apologies to anyone who has read my Faceboof race report, but there are friends reading who don't do FB, so some of this is a bit copy and paste.
Race report: 1600 Starters, 900 finishers, one's first reaction is to be disappointed with the result and then revise after realising that you finished. And safely. Non-finishers were people who crashed (some horrifically) and also people who simply got off and said 'no more'. There were 7 women in my age group who didn't finish.
It was a massive day - mentally tough, one of the most mentally tough days I have endured. I'm willing to say it was harder than doing Ironman, however Paul disputes that. So the jury is out, nonetheless, it was excrutiatingly tough.
Early in the race, our group (who was first off), headed out at an easy pace, just tapping, it was obvious we were waiting for the group starting 2 minutes behind us to catch and join. THey did and the pace slowly picked up, soon we were at the start of the first climb. And they hit it hard, i tried to stay on for as long as I could, eventualy I (and many others) popped out the back. I was still fighting and I kept reeling in stragglers encouraging them to work with me, after a while some of the men caught and I was able to work with them. Then we hit the first descent. I lost significant time on the here as I got spooked by all the crashes going down the hill, it was terrifying and I started to tighten up and Wiggins'ed my way down the hill. On the flats I was going great guns, I was definitely strong and punching in big packs, taking turns. I survived the second 10km hill, with lots of support from locals on the side of the road cheering us on. They had decked the villages along the course with signage and support welcoming cycling to their town and encouraging all the racers. And they were there cheering us on. They loved seeing a rider in the Aussie kit, yelling "Go Australie" and even giving the occassional push up the hill. Wearing the Aussie kit was cool, every time you came across someone wearing it, or they you, it was a case of go aussie, or keep going aussie, or even oi oi, to which I would respond, oi. On the second descent I got my shit together and descended really well. I joined forces with some Aussie guys on the next flat and we kept riding as fast as we could and taking turns, then the last mountain was there too soon and at the 94 km mark, we turned left to start the climb for the final mountain, Mount Bondone. And what a magnificent mofo she was. Until you climb a mountain,and I climbed my very first mountain last Tuesday, its very hard to fathom how the kilometres can go by so slowly. And man do I mean slowly. It takes well over an hour to climb 18 kms, that is a very slow long amount of time. I stopped at the last feed station at the 108km mark, unclipped, had a coke and an energy bar and cried. It was such an emotional journey, it was hard not to be overcome with emotion and exhaustion, I was just feeling so incredibly raw. Finally I stopped blubbering, and headed for the last long painful 4 kms. At the finish line with 300 metres to go I saw my Mum cheering loudly and my father-in-law John, then one by one I saw the rest of the crew, my brother Joseph, my mother-in-law Marg and the gang we have been here in Italy with for the last two weeks.My friends Tanya and Natalie appeared from nowhere with hugs and water. Paul was there to take my helmet off and hold me upright. My Mum was there to support and hold me while I got off my bike, it was incredible. I got off my bike and sat at a cafe table, put my head in my hands and cried some more. I then got handed Gemma's glass of wine to pose for a photo. Love a good photo opportunity so I dried my eyes and posed away:)
Without the amazing support from all our supporters that came here to cheer us on and the gang we have been hanging with for the last two weeks, this epic adventure would not have been anywhere near as awesome as it has been. And while that was the longest ever 112kms I have ever done, with roughly 3000 metres of climbing and 43 kms uphill, and I am not mountain ready, I wouldn't take any of it back.
To say the course was tough is an understatement, apparently it has been said that it won't be used again as it is deemed to be too tough for a Championship final. Interesting (and somewhat comforting).
I couldn't have done any of this without Paul's ongoing support, encouragement and belief in me. Paul also had a long hard tough race, and hopefully in the next few days he will add his own race report to this blog for you to read.
Racing at this level is a real eye-opener, the women that podiumed in my age group are a in a whole different league, they are truly super champions, people who race at a semi-pro level and have been winning at elite level for many many years. Its amazing just how good they are. In saying that there are still a handful of things that I could do differently if I were to do it all again. And perhaps instead of if, rather I should say 'when' I do it all again. Because as the pain subsides, the fire of improving oneself grows.
The ongoing support from everyone not here has been monumental too. So much love and support from family and friends. It's part of what made taking this journey all so do-able. Thank you to everyone who has shared this journey with us.
P.S. - My everything hurts.
Monday started at a reasonable time as Sunday night had been a big dinner with the gang, all of us that raced and our support crew. Dinner kicked off with Aperol Spritz's all round, red wine in the middle and finished with Limoncello creams. We did have food as well; however it was secondary to the celebratory fruit juice!
Breakfast before check out was a little sad as this was the day we were all going our separate ways. Paul and I had packed our bikes the night before and just had to pack our clothes into the car. Our first stop was Florence and we were stopping in at where Tanya and Chris were booked into stay for a week as they had offered to look after our bikes while we headed to Rome. Our original plan had been to put our bikes in storage at the train station.
As we were leaving Trento a bit ahead of Tan & Chris we thought it best to do a reccy of Florence to work out where we needed to drop the hire car off and where that was in relation to the train station to then walk to catch the train to Rome, before heading out to their place.
We made it to Florence unscathed and without getting lost and without argument, winning!
Then inside Florence things got a tad tense as the roads that we needed to drive down were closed in preparation for the Pro World Cycling Championships. In the end we bailed the reccy and made our way up the hill out to the B&B to meet Tan and Chris. Wow, tight little narrow street. Still in our uncomfortable to maneuver Fiat Scudo we made our way to the bottom of the street and parked on the side of the road in waiting for the Glasbecks (Tan & Chris) to arrive.
The tension was increasing a tad by now as the battery on my phone was going flat and my phone is what we were using to navigate our way around Italy with, and no I didn’t have a car charger for it (long story).
When Tan & Chris checked into their B&B I plugged my phone in to charge while we reviewed the leaving our bikes there options. Turns out it was not a do-able option. The B&B hardly had room for Tan and Chris's bikes, let alone our 3 packed into bike boxes. The stress started to increase as we quickly discussed options, 1) drag them on the train and through Rome to stay with us for a week (the bike boxes are like huge on steroid suitcases and quite cumbersome to move around, especially on cobblestones and through unknown streets), 2) revert to Plan A and leave them in luggage storage at the Florence train station. In the end we were able to leave one bike (in box) with Tan and Chris and took the other two to the train station.
Our train was scheduled to leave at 4.04pm and we still had to get rid of the hire car, offload the bikes and get to the train station. We took the phone off charge and left the B&B (btw, most beautiful B&B with spectacular views, so tranquil and delightful), by now it was after 2.30. The drive back to Florence was roughly 20 minutes. Everyone knows that time and distance in Italy has their own rules, this meant that you had to be at the train station well before your scheduled departure in case the train left early, or it could leave late, or in some cases it might even leave on time!
On the drive back into Florence we decided that driving straight to the train station to try and offload the bikes would make the most sense. We had to use the phone GPS to get us to the station and I was watching the small amount of charge dwindle away. GPS and data roaming are not kind to a phone battery. We parked out the front and we were lucky to be able to just park Italian style out the front on the curb, Paul stayed with the van while I ran in to find out where, what, how etc. After some frantic running around and talking my non Italian Italian to several people, I found my way to the baggage storage, I got the information I needed, found out that it was 6 euro a day per bag to leave it in storage. They don't have secure lock up, put your own code in type big lockers, rather a big area that they "guard". It was our only choice and so I ran back dodging my through crowds fully aware of the clock ticking against us. Got to the van, gave Paul the low down and we got the bike boxes out and dragged them back through the crowds (leaving the van parked randomly on the curb out the front of the train station). When we got back the baggage place a different man told us no we had to go back out and down to the second door. After some frantic hand waving and gesticulation of the guy at the second door (who didn't speak English), the guy at the first door (who did speak very good English, well at least enough to tell us that bikes were 10 Euro not 6) and then we followed our bikes into their temporary home, paid our deposit, got our tickets and then ran manically back through the crowds to the van (all the while wondering if we would ever see our bikes again). In the car we used the fast disappearing charge on my phone to navigate our way to Avis to drop the car off. Down narrow (van could hardly fit) streets, first stop Avis, not a hire car place, thankfully the waitress (?) was able to point me in the right direction and further down the street we found our destination. As we pulled into the car park, my phone said ciao and switched itself off, it had had enough! We did the car check over thing, got charged some random 30 euro for a dodgy windscreen insurance thing, who knows, whatever, asked the quickest way to the train station, grabbed our travel cases and legged it through the streets of Florence back to the train station.
At the train station, we already had our tickets and Euro Rail Pass pre-booked, but we had to validate our Rail Pass. I got in the long queue and Paul found a rail attendant to ask if that’s what we had to do. It was, but he was either bored, or thought we looked a bit frazzled, or simply liked the look of Paul. Whatever the reason, he took our Rail Pass, headed off to a closed counter, leaned through and got the stamp required and validated our pass. Back to winning! Grazie Grazie Mille!
The train to Rome before ours left ten minutes late. Italy. The platform for our train had not been advised. And no-one was able to help with what might be. So we just stood at watched the big electronic display and waited. Then suddenly, the train was there, and we were on it. We were a little worried how we were going to find our accommodation in Rome with a dead phone on our hands, but thankfully we were on the train in time. And interestingly, the train left dead on time. Our tickets were booked first class, and hallelujah that they were. Comfy seats, and oh Hello, power to charge the phone. And then not long into our trip, a drinks trolley comes along with free drinks, given that this was the start of our holiday, we had a champagne each. Complimente, Winning!
Arriving in Rome at 5.30pm, we got off the train and may have looked a little like lost school kids, far out, what a massive train station! We made our way out to the street (eventually) and started to navigate our way to our accommodation. After 2 weeks in smaller, country like areas of Italy, landing in Rome was quite confronting to the senses. It was a bit overwhelming, we had had two weeks of peaceful, relaxed Italian life and all of a sudden everything was dirty and fast and smelly. Eventually we found the door of our Bed & Breakfast, inside the door there was a marble stair case and lots of closed doors. No reception and no-one to ask help from. We sat at the bottom of the stairs bewildered for a bit and then I left Paul with the luggage and walked up the stairs. I walked 5 flights to the top with no luck. Then on the way down I noticed very small labels with names next to some of the doors. On the third floor, I saw a name, that was not the name of our accommodation, but thankfully I recognised the name as being that from a confirmation email for our booking. I rang the bell and Francesco answered and confirmed it was the place I was looking for. He ran down the stairs and helped us with our bags. Showed us our room and then we checked in. He gave us a map and lots of tips on where to go and what to do.
By now it was nearly 7, we had hardly eaten anything all day, what with all the running around as if we were competitors in The Amazing Race. So we showered and headed out to dinner. A friend had recommended a restaurant to visit while in Rome and as it turned out, we were staying less than 100 metres from it. Apparently you needed to book in advance, but as we got there early they were able to fit us in. The food was sensational as was the service. What a great night to kick off the beginning if our Roman adventure.
When in Rome, immerse yourself. Seriously, there is no time to pussy foot around; you need to just dive in. Its old, it's fast, it's dirty, it’s layered in history, it's covered in tourists from all over the world, it's rich, it's poor, and it’s amazing!
We woke up a bit late on our first morning in Rome, to be expected as we still hadn't really had time to recover from racing on Sunday. Our Bed & Breakfast in Rome is upstairs in a very old building, and the breakfast component is courtesy of a restaurant downstairs out on the street. Breakfast, not so great, but enough food to get the day started. By 9 a.m. we were on foot and headed to our first stop of the day, The Colosseum. It was less than a 2 kilometre walk and we found it fairly easily. We wondered around the perimeter and then headed into the entrance and looked about, we decided that for today we didn’t need to pay to go in and we vacated the queue and went exploring. There is a lot of restoration work going on in Rome and we made our way around some worksites (work site OSH does not actually exist in Rome) and then we stumbled upon a church, which it seemed was okay to just walk on in. So we did. Churches, even if you are not religious, have a way of being all encompassing. It stills you, and slows you down; we wandered slowly through the church admiring the extensive artwork and then finally made our way down some steps. Only to discover a glass coffin with skeletal remains. Freaky! Turns out we were in Santa Francesca Romana, previously known as Santa Maria Nova. Saint Frances is the patron saint of automobile drivers.
We left this amazing little church and found our way to another one; from there we continued through the historic centre of Rome and finally decided to take a bus tour. For 10 Euro each we spent about 70 minutes on a bus driving around Rome having the "important" sites pointed out to us. After we got off the bus, we walked to the Trevi Fountain, it was packed with tourists taking selfies, us included. And then lo and behold a shop was spotted, in approximately 30 minutes, I managed to purchase, 3 tops and 1 scarf and Paul bought a shirt, following our short break for retail therapy, we stopped for an ice cream and then wandered through the artists and shit fairy streets. We resisted the urge to buy any shit fairy goods and found our way out to a main street providing more mainstream shops and again I managed a quick spot of retail therapy.
By now it was nearing on 3 and we had walked quite some distance and were starting to feel quite hungry. We found a cafe to stop at and kicked off lunch with a beer for Paul and an Aperol Spritz for me. I ordered the antipasto plate and Paul a panini and we sat and watched the world go by. Eventually we wound our way back through the historic centre of Rome to our B&B. We had a bit of a break from all the go go go, before heading out again for dinner.
Happy Hour is a big thing here in Rome, basically it means you order a drink for 10 or 15 Euro and you can eat all you want for a bar of snack foods. Or you can have one drink and one buffet plate of snack food, I'm not really sure if it was a language barrier problem or a selective hearing problem on behalf of our waitress, but we ended up with the latter. So one drink and a few snacks for 30 Euro each, not cheap and not overly satisfying, however the Campari I had was very good. And we headed off again. Nothing seemed worth stopping for and in the end we stopped in one of those, I'm not a bottle shop nor am I a deli type European shops, and bought a beer, a piccolo and a packet of crisps and some water, 7 Euro later and dinner was served.
We were pretty tired from our day of traipsing somewhere around the 10 kilometre mark and we had a lazy night and to bed early, anticipating another big day on foot for the continuation of our Roman adventures.
Walking is really the most thorough way to get around Rome. So on Day 2 we put our touristy clothes and shoes on and headed off. We had booked a guided tour of Vatican City. To get there was a 5 km walk with a pitstop for a morning brioche (cheapest way to eat breakfast). On arriving in the vicinity of Vatican City, we were suddenly admist throngs of people. Turns out Wednesday is the day of the week that the Pope gives a general audience. We made our way through the crowds and found our way around to the entrance of the Vatican Museums. Met our tour guide and the waited for the late stragglers. Eventually the group was ready. Tatiana our Italian tour guide with a Russian name, and no she has never been to Russia, was fantastic. An art historian, her knowledge and passion really made the 3 hour tour worthwhile. We were guided through the years and corridors of the museums, including the Medieval room and Raphael's rooms. I learned so much more about Michaelangelo, including the fact that he lived until the age of 89, which is quite incredible for all those centuries ago!Finally we were a dozen steps away from entering the Sistine Chapel. Tatiana educated us thoroughly prior to going in, as you are not allowed to speak once inside. She showed us photos of the artwork and explained the history and the current practices. You are not allowed to take photos once inside and must have your knees and shoulders covered. One woman in our group had to buy a scarf as her shorts were not long enough. Tatiana encouraged us to read the walls of the chapel like a book and to resist looking up at the ceiling until the end. Of course most people walk in and look straight up. I fought the urge and made my way around reading the artwork as Tatiana had recommended. What made it harder was the amount of people in there. Hundreds crammed in and lots of them sitting down waiting. Eventually I looked up at the ceiling. Breathtaking! The artwork is unimaginable. The chapel was not the highlight of my day but without doubt it is a must must do. After we left Vatican City (where they have their own euro and own licence plates!) We went in search of some lunch. Because, as usual, hunger had struck again. We stopped at a cafe and ordered beer, wine, pizza and salad (when in Rome!). During lunch we consulted our map and headed toward the lighthouse that Francesco at our B&B had told us about. After a few wrong turns and dead end streets (stupid map) we eventually made our way to the top of a long winding hill to the lighthouse, Faro al Gianicolo. Well worth the hike, the views from here are amazing. Looking down on all of Rome, it was mesmorising. We took the compulsory touristy photos and then took a breather on a park bench to just take it all in. As well as giving our feet and legs a bit of a break. Another map consult to make our way down the other side of the hill and start heading back to base camp. The walk back was a visual adventure itself. So many narrow little alleys, jam packed with houses and restaurants. After many staircases and some time we found the river and then wound our way back to the Colesseum and then 'home'. We got back to our B&B around 5ish. Time to shower and recuperate before more walking to hunt and gather for dinner. Dinner was again good, however the food in Rome has not been as consistently great as it was in the north. However the Bacio gelato I had on the walk home was second to none! Another big day in Rome including covering about 20kms on foot. No matter how bad the pillows are, that can only result in a decent nights sleep.
Today we were up early (holiday time) and left our B&B at 6.15, we were straight onto the Metro (Rome's underground train system) to meet a bus and tour group for a day trip to Pompeii. We did the norm and grabbed a pastry for breakfast and met up with the group.
Within seconds I was in love with our guide, Roberto, on an intellectual platform only, I could tell he was going to entertain and amuse me all day. He had flair and wit boosted with a healthy touch of sarcasm. He had quite an American accent and turns out his Mum is Italian and Dad American, I asked him which was his mother-tongue, English or Italian, and he said he is not dominant in either.
He turned out to be the most incredible guide, still young and enthusiastic and with a wealth of study, he has studied Archeology, Geology, Italian/Roman History and Languages. He was so incredibly informative, it was most magical.
The bus trip to Pompeii was 3 hours, this included a pit stop at Cassino. On arrival at Pompeii we were introduced to our local guide Louisa. She spent two hours showing us the best of Pompeii. I cannot describe how incredible this was. To top it off, early into our Pompeii walk, we were standing in what was once the Amphitheatre and a Chinese tourist, started singing. He sang a well known Neapolitian song in fluent Italian, At first people were, what is is this tool doing, and as his voice steadied and he became confident, everyone just stopped and listened. He got a massive round of applause when he had finished. See My Videos for a snippet of video I took with my phone.
We continued on seeing the sites of Pompeii, I was so so so glad we made the effort to book this tour, it is simply a must see. So far it is estimated that there is still about 20% of the Pompeii ruins that have not yet been uncovered. Learning archeologists come from all over the world to Pompeii as it is used as somewhat of a study field for them.
After Pompeii we were taken to our lunch stop, up a hill, where the choice was, Pizza Marinara (Red, not seafood), Pizza White, or Pizza Margherita. Served with a salad and wine or beer (love the Italians, drinking wine with every meal). Lunch wasn't rushed, we were told lunch would be by 'Italian Time'.
After lunch we were back on the bus for a 40 minute drive to Mt Vesuvias. The bus took us to the top car park and then we all got out. We were told our 'be back here time' and set free to walk to the crater. It was only a short walk (steep), less than 2kms and with 4 gift shops from start to finish! The walk was well worth every step.
Unfortunately the clouds were low, which meant our views of Naples was obscured, but it also meant we weren't too hot being so close to the sun! The walk back down was great too. Slippery as the surface is loose fine powedery volcano type gravel. We were pretty dirty by the time we finished that hike.
Again back on the bus and we were headed back to Rome. Again with a pitstop in Cassino for the American couple sitting behind us to buy a bottle of red wine and have it opened to swig the entire bottle for the last hour back to Rome.
The trip back to Rome from Cassino was fantastic. Roberto got into the full swing of historical story telling and entertained us non-stop.
The people on the tour were various, mostly American. The wine swilling couple from Connecticut. A girl from New York working as a Fit Model, she is a template for "a" size and designers try clothes on her to check their sizing, she moved to new York from Missouri 7 years ago to break into the big time. She had put all her belongings into storage to be able to afford to travel to Italy for 3 weeks, using her rent money.
When we got back to Rome, about 8.30 that night, we found an American/Italian cafe (unintentionally keeping with the theme of the day). Paul had an American (not good) burger and chips, I had a basic, big, salad. We wondered back to our B&B via an ice cream parlour that had been recommended, Palazzo del Freddo Giovanni Fassi http://www.palazzodelfreddo.it/, they have been in operation since 1880. We walked in at 10.30 p.m. and the place was packed. It was totally crazy. And yummy. Tomorrow - Florence!
Florence, wow! We had three days in Florence. We had deliberately chosen to go to Florence to coincide with the Pro Cycling World Championships. Florence is a big city and having a World Championship there for a week, makes it very big and even busier.
So while we were in Florence, we didn’t go and see the Statue of David, or the fake Statue of David nor the replica of the fake David. We really didn’t go and see any of the things one should when in Florence. Of course we saw the Duomo, but only from the outside, we didn’t queue to go in and walk the many stairs to the top. We should have done these things, but I guess we were at the end of 3 nonstop weeks. Every day we had been 100% on the go and I think by the time we hit Florence we were a bit washed out.
However, we had an absolute blast while we were in Florence and that is what one should always do while on holidays, have a blast and enjoy. So going against the grain of my 'crameverythinginwalkeverywhereseeeverything' ideals. We didn't do that, rather we ambled through Florence instead of steam rolling.
So we arrived in Florence via train from Rome. On arrival we made it straight to the hotel we were staying at. We had agreed that we would check into our room with our normal luggage and then go back to the train station to collect our bikes and lug them through the streets to the hotel. So we checked in and sussed out the room for space and then made our way back to the train station, thankfully it was about 800 metres away. We went to Left Luggage to collect (fingers crossed) our bike boxes. And there they were, waiting patiently for us. We paid our bill and began the struggle walk back to the hotel. These cases are not easy to maneuver at the best of times, throw in the higgedly piggedly cobblestone and oh so narrow footpaths and streets of Italy combined with hundreds and hundreds of people and 800 metres suddenly feels like 8 kilometres. We got there and put them in our room and decided that we might not unpack them, that while in Florence we would have another couple of days off the bike.
We decided a reality check was needed and headed to the nearest Laundromat. Matt rang to say he was arriving at the train station, so I left Paul at the Laundromat and walked down to the station to show Matt the way back to the hotel. Following check-in and laundry duties we then went for a walk. Through the leather stalls that line the streets with every leather good imaginable and then we walked out to a gorgeous square and there it was. The Duomo. Impressively magnificent. Breathtaking! We mosied around and took some photos and then, being in Italy, decided it was time for a drink. Which it was, it was 4 in the afternoon. We stopped at a nice looking place, got a table and placed our order. We then rang Brett and Anna who had arrived in Florence on Wednesday, two days before us. Some more friends from Perth, who Paul and I were then going the following week for a week to stay at a villa in the countryside of Tuscany. Brett and Anna came down for a drink, and we text Tanya and Chris to make dinner plans and to catch up for our "reunion dinner" after all we hadn't seen each other for 5 days!
We met up around 7ish to head out for dinner, we hadn't booked anywhere and it was a case of just pick a place and go with it. So we did. Dinner was average, as far as the food went, if you ordered meat, chicken, veal, steak, wild boar, it was tough and overcooked (the spelling of Wild Boar - Wild Baar, perhaps should have given us warning), apparently the pasta and gnocchi dishes were good, however the company was great. And we enjoyed lots of chatting and laughing. We then walked the streets for a Gelato top up, and then called it a day.
The next day was Saturday and we had been told about a shopping outlet called The Mall. Basically in the middle of nowhere this kickass shopping mall of designer shops, Gucci, Prada, Christian Dior, Emporio Armani, the list goes on and on. We caught the train from Florence to Rignano and then from there it was a 7 minute taxi trip. Turns out that there is only one taxi in Rignano, so the local police said they would ring for us and we went to the allocated taxi stand near the train station. 3 other people were there for the same reason and thankfully when the taxi arrived, it was an 8 seater, so we shared the taxi trip. On arrival at The Mall, we went straight to the Cafe, Matt needed a coffee and I had decided, 'when in Rome (yeah yeah, Italy)' that today was the day, I was going to have my first ever coffee. Not wanting to skirt around the issue, I decided to go all out and man up and have an espresso as my first. No need to ease into it. So espresso it was. I took a small sip and pulled a rather ugly face at the bitterness of it (which Matt took a photo of, god love friends). After the sip, I went in for the drink in one hit option and drank it down. Within about 20 minutes I was pinging. At first I wondered if it was the euphoria of shopping in all the glitzy shops, but soon realised it was a mega caffeine hit. The shopping was a mix of wonderment, amazement and sorrow. Even at 'cheap prices' everything was so pricey. So pretty and nice and beautiful quality, I just walked through and stroked the clothing. I found one to die for dress in Christian Dior and resisted trying it on. Of course, my one regret is that I didn’t try it, however at 850 Euro, it's probably best that I didn’t. I did splurge in Emporio Armani and buy a very nice top; it's quite timeless and elegant. Paul and Matt both bought shirts in Prada, little shoppers that they are. After several hours of stroking clothes and bags and shoes it was time to head back to Florence.
For dinner we reunited with Brett and Anna, Chris and Tanya and some friends of theirs, Mark and Lara. We went to a little restaurant that Mark and Lara knew of. The food was fantastic and the menu was very exciting. It was so good that we asked the waitress if they were open the next night, but as we have already learnt in Italy, Sunday's is not a popular day for restaurants being open. So it was no real surprise when the waitress said no. She then gave us the name of another "famous" (her words) restaurant. So given that it was famous and also on a Sunday night, we asked Mark and Lara if they could get the concierge at their hotel to make a booking.
Sunday was the day of the Men's road race for the world champs. The plan was to get to see some of the race, in two different spots. Tan and Chris drove into town to spend the day with us. Anna and Brett had other plans and had headed out of town to watch the race elsewhere. We went for a walk through town and down the leather laneways, the shopper boys were trying on leather jackets. Due to the rain that was forecast, I had stopped fighting the straight hair war and left my hair in it's natural woglike state that it prefers to be in. I got mistaken by some American kids for a real Italian, as they said "she's a Italian, talk to her" and then proceeded to walk up to me and say 'Ciao', I responded accordingly and they ran off giggling, with see we can talk Italian.
We headed back to the hotel to drop off some shit fairy purchases and then head out to see the race. The weather however, for the first time this holiday made other plans for us. And as we left the hotel entrance we were swamped with Shit Fairy sellers selling ponchos and umbrellas. It seemed stupid not to, and so we bought umbrellas and ponchos, cheap and flimsy, but good enough. And as it turned out much needed. While we stood on the barrier of the race course, it was pretty much pouring down. We waited for the bikes to come through, after they had gone through and the rain was getting heavier, we decided that a cafe with a big screen would be a preferable way to watch the race. We found one, and we got in at just the right time, we got one of the last two tables, unfortunately we were separated, 3 of us on one table and 2 on another, but still within talking distance. We ordered food and drinks and watched the race live on the big screen, and enjoyed not being wet. After about 2 hours, I decided to go poke around some shops and left the others. Sometime after that Matt, Tan and Chris, went for a walk toward the finish line to see some of the race up close and Paul headed back to the hotel.
We regrouped in the evening to head for dinner to the "famous" restaurant. It was about a 1.5km walk. And the drizzling weather almost resulted in a cancellation. But we persisted. It was just the 5 of us going for dinner in the end, Tanya, Chris, Matt, Paul and Me. We finally made it to dinner and within minutes of the first piece of food hitting the table; we knew instantly that not cancelling was the right thing. It was to be our 'last supper' together in Italy. And what a supper it was. The food was exquisite. The only part of the meal we chose ourselves was the main meal. Everything else was decided for us. And we couldn't fault anything at all. Heavenly heavenly. The waiter was lush and Tanya and I were more than happy to listen and watch everything he had to say and do. The wine was fantastic. The whole experience was a beautiful way to finish our time together in Italy. If ever in Florence book yourself into Cibero. It’s a must do. We walked back to the city centre and there were hugs and almost tears as we said goodbye to Tanya and Chris, as the next day they were headed to Geneva, and the three of us on a train in the morning to Milan.
The small taste of Florence showed us both that we will come back. We will save the bigger Florence experience for another day.
Monday morning started with an early excursion of dragging one of our bike boxes through the streets of Florence to meet Brett at the hotel that Brett and Anna were staying at, as they were helping us by taking it to the villa which meant less luggage hassle on the train for us. Bike box deposited and back to the hotel to finish packing and head to the train station.
First stop today was Milan; Matt was taking my TT bike home for me, so we travelled to Milan with him to help with the box on the train, then a day in Milan before training it out to Cortona for a week at a gorgeous villa.
After some cursing and tense moments we got all our luggage and two bike boxes to the train station. Dropped one at our favourite Left Luggage place for us to retrieve at the end of the day and then next stop, coffee. Yes that’s right coffee, another espresso for Matt and me. Eventually we were on the train. Gotta love these fast trains. In what seemed like no time at all we were pulling in at the gorgeous Milan train station. We deposited Matt and my TT bike with his driver, with hugs and kisses and promises to write each other, he was on his way to the airport and we were on foot to explore Milan.
A 25 minute walk landed us in the centre of Milan, through Corso Vittorio Emmanule, a gorgeous arcade with a glass dome roof full of designer shops. Then through to the Duomo. They do very impressive Duomo's in this country. And this one was no exception, unfortunately though, on one side of the Duomo they had put a false facade over the original to enable the placement of a big screen TV. Weird.
We continued through the streets of the centre of Milan, and made our way into a gorgeous massive multi story department store. Kind of like a David Jones building with the exception that this one oozed of high end designer shops brands. We walked through the first, second and third floor, giving me plenty of opportunity to ooh and ahh. Then we decided against the other 4 floors and went to head back down. Problem! We couldn't find an escalator that went down, only up. Baffled we then saw an Exit sign, so we went in the direction of the exit sign. Weirdly it took us through the men's change rooms and then to some stairs. We pushed the door open and started descending. One floor down, another door, eventually we were at the bottom, only to discover that the doors were locked, cable tied together. So we went back up, the door that we had come through was one way and we couldn't open it from the side we were on. Random news headlines flashed through my mind while we tried to work out an escape plan. Paul headed back down to the bottom to the "locked" doors, and then I hear a loud snap and he calls out "I'm out', I yell "wait for me" and hurtle down the stairs, as I do the building alarm starts screaming and reverberating in our ears, we stumbled through the doors and find ourselves out on the street. We slam the doors shut and nonchalantly walk away. I see a man in a food van watching us closely; we are of course carrying back packs and no doubt look highly suspicious. So as to avert further suspicion sauntering casually away from the designer dream house after setting off the alarm, seems the right thing to do. Once we have established that we are not being chased, that we won’t be thrown face down on the ground with our hands clasped behind our heads, we realise that living the reckless high risk life has left us hungry. Time for a lunch break!
On our way to lunch, I saw the biggest Zara store I have ever seen, it only seemed right to go on in. I checked out a few things, then saw a leather jacket I quite liked the look of. I took it off the hanger and tried it on, size not quite right, so I grabbed another one. Unfortunately for me this one had a clip on that when removed set of an alarm. As I removed the jacket from the hanger, the clip slipped off. There I go again, setting off another alarm in Milan! Thankfully there was no stress, the shop attendant, just came over and switched the alarm off, gave me the jacket and showed me where the mirror was. He was very relaxed and not concerned at all, so clearly the video footage of tourists on the run from down the road hadn't yet been circulated.
Fed up with my potential life of crime, it was time to eat. Given that food in Italy is great 9 out of 10 times, we stop at a cafe and order. I ordered the mushroom risotto and Paul a pizza. The risotto arrives and looks, well it just looked bland. Oh well, can't win them all. I sprinkle parmesan and have a mouthful. Oh heaven, looks can be deceiving, the most incredible tastes filled my mouth. To die for risotto. Paul's pizza was awesome and it was a nice 30 minute sit down to watch the world go by. Then we continued to walk Milan and vowed to avoid setting off any more alarms.
The architecture in Milan is incredible and we didn't really go to any touristy places, but just wondering the streets is fun and eventful. Before long it was time to trek back to the train station, via another few shops and the purchase of a nice shirt for myself.
The Milan train station is worth seeing. It is fantastic, and it's pretty big too. Its façade is 200 metres wide and its vault is 72 metres high, a record when it was built. It has 24 platforms. Each day about 330,000 passengers use the station, totaling about 120 million per year.
We boarded our train, travelling business class on the high speed train is great. Especially when we have been on our feet pretty much all day every day. The seats are comfortable and you can just kick back and watch the views from the window.
Once back in Florence we had to hustle. We were catching a train from Florence to Cortona, the train arriving in Florence was scheduled to arrive at 5.55pm, the one to Cortona was scheduled to leave at 6.09pm. In that time we had to get to Left Luggage to pay for and pick up our cases and bike box, as well as get the train tickets needed for the next train and then find which station it was leaving from and get there with our luggage. So, donning our 'contestants of The Amazing Race' personalities, we kicked into gear.
We jumped off the train and ran around to Left Luggage. The precious time was ticking as the boys at the luggage place were operating on 'Italy Time' and were quite chilled, seemingly unconcerned about our "race". Luggage retrieved we made our way up the platform to the centre of the train station, I deposited Paul with luggage in a central spot and raced to the ticket machines. Annoyingly there were "tourists" milling around the machine, I played my I'm an Italian attitude and managed to shuffle them out of my way. Then of course, goes without saying, the ticket machine freezes up on me and refuses to work. I jump in the queue of the next one and bump some more tourists out of the way. Eventually tickets in hand I race back to Paul and luggage. Thankfully I have in the time of running around frantically also managed to read the electronic board to learn which platform we need to be on. With all things needed aligning, it turns out to be the one that Paul is at the top of. Our train is there. We get on, heave the bike box on and then we are away. No business class or high speed for this trip. We are on a slow train and spend the first 40 minutes of our trip standing with our luggage in the luggage well. As the train gets further away from Florence we are able to get some seats where we can still watch our luggage. As the train continues on, our scenery changes and it is apparent that we are clearly entering a postcard picture. This is going to be a gorgeous week. The sun goes down and then by about 7.40 we arrive in Camucia-Cortona. We heave all our luggage off and find Brett waiting at the station to pick us up. He tells us that we are all heading to dinner in Cortona and meeting the others there.
With 10 of us staying at the villa nestled in the hills of Tuscany, dinner is a good start to the week and gives us all a chance to get talking, as some of us don't know each other all that well. Dinner was superb and the setting in the Cortona village was so picturesque. I had Ribolita (bean soup with bread) and steak with leak and truffle sauce. The house wine as always was fantastic.
We then went back to the villa, the rest of the crew had arrived during the day so they were settled in and done the food shopping. Paul and I got the guided tour and shown our room. After such a massive day, we headed to bed (of course by now it was nearly midnight). The views from our bedroom window looked great in the dark, I couldn't wait to see it all in the morning.
On our first morning at the Tuscany villa, we woke up early to a fog bound view. It wasn't a bad thing; it added a mysterious romantic feel to the view. We headed downstairs and had breakfast and watched the fog slowly clear. One by one the rest of the villa appeared. The weather for the day was looking to be amazing.
Our bus was due to arrive at 9.30. We were being picked up to go on a Truffle Hunting experience. Unlike any Italy time experienced so far, the bus arrived at 9.10 - !!!!!!!
Before long we were all on the bus, headed to our Truffle day. Fluff and Kat, were not joining us today, so it was just the 8 of us. The bus driver, Guido, was a friendly happy Italian man, with his sweater tied around his neck. He stopped about 20 minutes into the drive to stop for everyone to get a coffee. The coffee drinkers did so, and we stretched our legs for 20 minutes before getting back on the bus. The country side was beautiful and just sitting on the bus watching the Tuscan world pass by was beautiful and relaxing. Soon we were at our small town called Citerna where the bus driver spoke to our travel guide and we then followed their car a bit further down the road. Soon we arrived at the 'Truffle Hunting Paddock' and were greeted by our interpreter and guide, Cecilia. She introduced us to Emma the Truffle Dog and her owner, the Truffle Man. Emma was a specific Truffle dog breed, a Lagotto Romagnolo. She was quite small and wiry and gorgeous. She seemed to be so happy.
Cecelia explained that it's best to keep up with the dog as they move quickly. And then off Emma went. We were truffle hunting! Brett had been given the important task of carrying the truffle bag. Emma would locate a truffle and then she would drop and wait, knowing that she would be rewarded with a treat. Truffle man had a special truffle shovel but most times it wasn't needed as the truffles are so close to the surface. We took it in turns to dig out a truffle and then place it in Brett's nice new manbag, er, truffle bag. The owner of the Truffle Farm, Saverio Bianconi, was there too and he walked around with us (I suspect he was ensuring that we didn't pinch any truffles, they are pretty pricey). Eventually we had exhausted the hunting for the small parcel of land we were on, a nice little triangle smack bang in the middle of Umbria and Tuscany, the two best locations for truffles. We had time for some group photos with Emma and Truffle Man, and then back onto the bus.
Cecelia came on the bus with us as we drove back to Citerna (pronounced Ch'terna), on the bus she started to tell us a little bit about Citerna. Citerna was first founded by the Etruscans over 2000 years ago because of its secure well water and defendable position on a ridge. The height of 465m gives views in both directions which is handy when defending your land from the enemies. Underneath the road and houses of the village is an empty village, like the whole town is duplicated underneath, this was for the storage and transportation of the water. These days it has been nicely restored and is used for functions and exhibitions. It's pretty cool. In Citerna we stopped for coffee at the best coffee place in town, read, the only coffee place in town. The population of Citerna these days is about 250. The views from the town are amazing, one of the views was replicated in a painting by Michelangelo.
It was time for truffle tasting, back on the bus for a 25 minute drive to Tartufi Bianconi, the truffle farmhouse and where the truffles are weighed, packed and distributed from. Located in the Upper Tiber Valley. Here we were taken into the processing part of the business where we weighed the truffles we had collected and then onto the farmhouse to meet Gabriella, Saverio's wife. Cecelia and Saverio poured glasses of prosecco for us all and then Gabriella started teaching us all about truffles, how to keep them, how to store them, how to prepare them and how to eat them, the different types of truffles and their seasons. Firstly we had some small pieces of bread spread with the various types truffles so that we could taste the difference. Then we were shown the dining room and a small room like a mini truffle museum.
Soon it was announced that lunch was being served, we took our seats and wine was poured and the first dish appeared. The best ever cheese soufflé with fig and rocket garnished with black truffle. OMG! Aaahhhmmaazzzing! Also placed on the table was truffle devilled eggs, incredible. Then the next course arrived, a deluxe cheese and truffle gnocchi. Around the table it was a case of 'oohs and aahhs' More wine and then another course! This one was rolled truffle chicken breast with mashed potato and salad greens. I have had truffle in the past and I can honestly say, the truffles that we had today, were sooooo superior to anything I have ever tried before. This was an incredible dining experience, my taste buds were having the best party ever. The last course came out, plates with cheeses and truffle spreads, honey, all nibbly type yummy stuff. A sticky dessert wine to top it all off and we were stuffed and happy. It was time to say goodbye and head home.
The bus trip back to the villa was pretty quiet as we were all very full and a bit tired. When we got back, most of the crew got changed into bathers and shorts to chill by the pool. Paul, Brett and I started unpacking and putting bikes together.
Now that the bikes were re-built, it made sense to go for a ride. We headed out for an easy spin, it gave us a chance to check the bikes mechanically, start getting our bearings of the area and work off some of the truffle day. Just getting out of the driveway of the villa was a challenge. The driveway was only 500 metres long, however it was loose limestoney gravel with a bit of a steep hill. It was slippery and tough, I'm not sure how much of my mantra of "please don't let me fall, please don't let me fall, please don't let me fall" helped but we made it to the road safely.
Later that evening we kicked back and ate and drank and talked. As one should while in a villa in Tuscany.
Wednesday started as planned, Brett, Anna, Paul and I got up before the others to head out for a ride. Up the treacherous driveway, only we opted to walk a bit of the steep bit – safety first. And off we rode…..
About 4 kilometres into the ride, my bike refused to change gears, I then noticed that my red light was on, what? My Di2 battery was flat, inconceivable! So I bid the others farewell and moped my way back to the villa. Misery pity party was looming.
I put my battery on charge and decided to snap out of the pity party that was in the making and grabbed the laptop and camera and went out to the outside table with gorgeous views of the sloping valleys of Tuscany. No time to mope this was the life, time to catch up some blogging duty. One by one the sleeping people woke up and made their way out to join me. Everyone doing their own thing, reading, writing postcards, taking photos, eating breakfast, generally just basking in the beauty of being in a Tuscany villa in the sun. Before long those that rode returned and we all decided we would have lunch and then head into Cortona for the afternoon.
Mark and Joy had been busy in the kitchen and before long we had a delicious lunch outside of spaghetti with a Neapolitan sauce and grilled eggplant, capsicum and mushroom. There was a tuna salad and bottles of water, soft drink and wine.
After lunch, 6 of us drove into Cortona to explore the village, Brett, Anna, Mark, Lara, Paul and me. We agreed on our meet back here time and went exploring. Cortona is gorgeous, a village inside the city walls, very Italian. Lots of little shops and eating places. We had a good time exploring shops and before long it was obvious there were lots of potential purchases available. Shoes, handbags, art. It is filled with tourists, as Cortona is one of the locations that the movie 'Under The Tuscan Sun' was filmed. It is a stunning place and swarming with tourists.
Brett found a most fantastic Manbag, stunning stunning bag, I did have manbag envy, but I couldn’t quite justify the need for it, not being a man is irrelevant, it was easily a Unisex bag. Thankfully Brett decided to purchase it, and I was able to enjoy it vicariously. After mooching the shops we all met back in the car park and headed for home via the supermarket in Camucia. We needed just a few things for the villa, pepper, dishwashing liquid, toilet paper and matches were about the the extent of the list. Of course let 6 foodies go shopping unattended and many baskets of shopping later, including beer, wine, prosecco, aperol and breadsticks and we were sorted.
Tonight was the night that we had booked a chef to come to the villa and cook us up a 4 course meal, complete with wine (in case we didn’t have enough already). The chef arrived at about 6 and got underway, the rest of us milled about doing whatever, washing hair, talking, making aperol spritzes. Soon our first course was ready, a simple typical Italian starter of melon with prosciutto. The prosciutto in Italy is magnificent, and this really hit the spot. Soon we were served with our Primo dish, a porcini mushroom risotto. The parmesan was passed around the table and we tucked in, sounds of oohs and ahhhs, and murmurings of, “I can never make risotto again’, simply it was mouth-wateringly sensational. The wine continued to flow and we talked around many many subjects. Out of the corner of my ear, I hear Paul say ‘Casterton’, interesting, that’s where I spent a chuck of my growing up years, why was he talking about that, no-one in the world has heard of Casterton unless they are from there, been there or close to. I tune in to the conversation that Paul was having with Brett and Brett asks me do I know the Roper’s. I respond with, of course I do, Faith was my best friend! Brett says, ‘Faith is my cousin!’ Whaaaattttt! Small tiny world, so of course then Brett and I were off talking ‘this person, that person, nativity play, organ playing, Miss Dergholm showgirl, blah blah blah blah……”
Before long main meal arrived, a plate of chickpeas cooked with olive oil, rosemary and garlic, a plate of rocket, cherry tomatoes and marinated sliced veal. So simple and so damn good, the flavours were dancing in my mouth, it was incredible. The wine flowed and the talking and laughing continued on its merry way. Dessert was a simple shortcrust tart with toasted pine nuts on the top. Yummy and nice and basic. With that the chef bid us farewell and she slipped out the side door to leave us to our non-stop chattering.
As the night wound down, those of us that were heading out for a ride opted for bed time, and left the sleeper-inners for a game of cards and a few night caps. With a finalisation of plans to agree on what time we needed to be back from our ride in time to head for our trip to Siena. With draft plans in place we bade each other good night and headed to our villa bedrooms with gorgeous valley views.
Thursday morning, another good day to start with a ride. Brett, Anna, Paul and I headed out. The day before they had seen a lake and thought it would be good to ride that way. Brett had mapped the ride on his Garmin (bike computer with GPS and maps) and so we off we went. A small stop to kick my bike with a minor mechanical, once that was sorted we kept riding. It was a gorgeous ride, but the lake didn't appear to be getting any closer. At around the 40 km mark, we stopped to check where we were, as we had thought the lake was about 25 kilometres away. We continued toward the lake and got close but time was against us as we had to be back at the villa by 11. So we navigated our way home. 80 kilometres for the morning was a nice way to kick the day off and the scenery was gorgeous so even without the lake it was still a good morning.
Back at the villa, everyone else was ready to go. We showered and dressed and in no time, were ready to go as well. The 10 of us piled into two cars and we were on our way to Siena. In Siena we went our separate ways for lunch, Anna, Brett, Paul and I went to a pizza by the slice bar, the others went to a restaurant. After our pizza slices Anna and I managed to do a kick spot of shopping, the sock and stocking shops in Italy are great and fantastically cheap. So many fun socks and stockings to choose from at great prices. Shopping done, it was gelato time! We were scheduled to meet the others under the clock of the town hall in the main square; the Piazza del Campo, just before 2 in time to meet our tour guide for a walking tour of Siena.
At 2 we met our guide Francesca, apparently she was dead cute. Never one to fail to check out attractive people, I actually missed this one completely, she didn't do it for me. Nonetheless she was knowledgeable and an excellent tour guide, so it was win-win for everyone. We spent the next 3 hours exploring and learning some local Sieanese history.
Siena is famous for a horse race. The Palio di Siena (known locally simply as Il Palio) is a horse race that is held twice each year, on July 2 and August 16. Ten horses and riders, bareback and dressed in the appropriate colours, represent ten of the seventeen districts/neighbourhoods, or city wards. The Palio held on July 2 is named Palio di Provenzano, in honour of the Madonna of Provenzano, who has a church in Siena. The Palio held on August 16 is named Palio dell'Assunta, in honour of the Assumption of Mary.
The race itself, in which the jockeys ride bareback, circles the Piazza del Campo (covered in dirt just for the occasion), three times and usually lasts no more than 90 seconds. It is common for a few of the jockeys to be thrown off their horses while making the treacherous turns in the piazza, and indeed, the winner is the first horse to cross the finish line, with or without a jockey.
Italy does a good Duomo and Siena didn’t let us down. Francesca took us into the Duomo, the advantage of having a tour guide is jumping the queues. Inside the Duomo the marble floors were so intricate. Artwork, pictures and stories of revered men and women, all done with different coloured marble.
We went to a church, The Basilica of San Domenico, also known as Basilica Cateriniana, is a basilica church and one of the most important in the city. Inside the church we learnt the history of it and then Francesca asked us if we would like to see the head and finger of Saint Catherine. Well that’s a bit strange, but we weren’t going to let that go, of course we said yes. Even though she didn’t die in Siena, her head and finger were removed from her body and sent back to Siena in request to be housed in the Basilica.
We then made our way back to the town centre learning more about Siena, including Siena’s first bank; Banca Monte dei Paschi di Siena, it is the oldest surviving bank in the world and Italy's third largest bank. Founded in 1472 by the magistrate of the city state of Siena, Italy, as a "mount of piety", it has been operating ever since. Today it has approximately 3,000 branches, 33,000 employees and 4.5 million customers in Italy, as well as branches and businesses abroad! After taking us back to the centre it was time for Francesca to bid us farewell. It was just after 5 so it made sense to have a drink in the square and soak it all in.
By the time we got back to the villa, it was dark and definitely time for dinner. Anna disappeared to her room and it was a while before we realised she was lights out for the night. Several of the crew made their way into the kitchen and under the guidance of Mark rustled up and fine meal of chicken cacciatore and mashed truffle potato and salad. I’m sure a fight nearly broke out when Brett put a plate of left overs aside for Anna, I was certain he was going to get tackled to the ground for the last of the truffle potatoes! After dinner the cards came out, we split up into two groups. Lara, Tim, Joy and Fluff went to the lounge room to continue the challenge they had started last night. Mark, Brett, Kat, Paul and I played monopoly cards. It took us a while to get the hang of it as Mark was the only one that had played before. It was a fun night, another late one and eventually the non-sleeper inners called a night after agreeing on a start time for our ride the next morning.
Another day in Tuscany, another ride in Tuscany. It was cooler this morning so we layered up and set off. We weren’t after a long or hard ride today. Italy of course continues to be hilly and we climbed our way up to Cortona. And through Cortona and kept on climbing. Eventually we reached a fork in the road and opted for the one that seemed to suggest we would get to a mountain/hill top with a look out.
As we continued to ride the road got more and more narrow and bumpier and then there was a rather sharp steep (thankfully short) hill and it was not so much like bitumen anymore. Then there was a boom gate (rusty and half up) and an old stone cottage. We discussed the options and I for one thought it looked pretty damn exciting and suggested that we keep going. Thankfully everyone agreed, and we continued on. The path was no longer a road and thanks to the canopy made by the trees meeting in the middle it was quite dark. It was in fact excitingly picturesque and I was quite determined that we were riding into an enchanted forest. The more we went uphill, the more enchanted it seemed, for sure there would be something most exciting at the top, at the very least a magic tree, and if we were super lucky maybe some fae like creatures. Soon we could sense the end and then we could see that it was approaching, I raced ahead (as much as one can on a road bike on slippery, loose and grass covered paths) and made it to the fence surrounding………………… a Telstra hut! That’s it, the most enchanted gorgeous ride and we ended up at a Telstra hut. Not even a lookout at the top of the hill. Somewhat deflated, it meant that we had to ride back down the slippery narrow path, which would be potentially not as exciting going back down. We headed back down and didn’t see a single mystical creature. We headed back to Cortona and made our way to a coffee shop. It was freezing and on the way down the hill it had continued to get colder. Hot chocolates were the order of the day before we rode back to the villa.
Back at the villa the others had left a note saying they had gone wine tasting and had left a map of where they were headed. We opted for a shower and back into Cortona for some lunch, some shopping and looking and Anna had a manicure booked.
The afternoon in Cortona was great. Cortona is gorgeous. After lunch, Anna went for her manicure and the boys went to a museum and I went in search of life necessities such as shoes and bags. We all agreed to meet back in the centre at agreed meeting time. I got back there first and was delighted to witness a wedding. So I had a great time watching the wedding antics including a woman not in the wedding party who was sitting on the steps of the main hall. The wedding party were trying to orchestrate photos and this woman just refused to budge. She just acted as if she couldn’t see a wedding at all. Possibly frustrating for the wedding photographer and bride and groom but amusing for the spectators.
Another day in Tuscan paradise was topped off with another night of sitting around with good food, great company and the occasional wine or two.
Saturday was a rainy day! Our second rainy day in four weeks of being in Italy. Not a bad effort. It seemed the inhabitants of the villa were all at peace with this. Even the lycra clad ones. We welcomed the rest day for what it was. And a quiet peace hung over the villa, we mooched, we chatted, there were some card games, book reading, lazy lying around, generally just chilling.
There was food. 10 foodies in a villa in Italy together, of course there was food. Kat made a big pot of Ribollita, a traditional peasant Italian soup made with Cannellini beans and bread and vegetables. It suited the weather outside perfectly and we sat around the kitchen table with big bowls of ribollita for lunch.
After lunch Anna was starting to feel the pinch of cabin fever set in, so when Brett said they were going to go find the elusive lake (remember the one we tried to ride to), Paul and I jumped at the chance, we all grabbed our umbrellas (bought for 3 euro in a street in Florence on that other rainy day) and headed off. We drove straight to the town with the lake, Castiglione del Lago.
While out on their wine tasting day yesterday, the others had already been here and they warned us of the shock they got when following the directions of the GPS for parking, so we were pre-warned but it was still funny as by the time we got there, Brett’s GPS had had its own foofie and practically yelled at him to TURN LEFT, when he hadn’t, it seemed the GPS got a little hysterical and repeated very firmly to TURN LEFT. After the third time of hissy GPS, Anna, Paul and I were, perhaps due to the onset of cabin fever; in hysterics ourselves, as we found it all rather hilarious and started picking on Brett to TURN LEFT! You know those situations where you are being stupidly funny and its all the more funny because you are amusing yourself, that’s the point we had reached. Not sure that Brett had though…
So as we turned into what should be a parking lot, there was suddenly a very wide, very large staircase, and if the others had not told us of their experience, we would have braked and looked ahead wondering how on earth we were expected to drive up the staircase. However, a sharp turn into a narrow gap and we found ourselves in the car park.
We headed up the stairs to explore; we didn’t get very far with the exploring, when the rain decided to set in rather heavily. We hung in a doorway for a while, and as the rain eased, we ventured out to the street (with our brightly coloured umbrellas in hand). Soon we came across what appeared to be a museum of sorts, so we paid and went in. The museum was called Palazzo del Comune (which is Town Hall); inside we discovered it was also a gallery. It was okay, but for our bordering on being bored moods it was a little dull. In one room I stepped out through a door to what I assumed was a balcony and to my absolute delight I saw an archway which was clearly the start of a tunnel, looking ahead I saw that the tunnel went all the way to a fortress. I clapped my hands and squealed in delight, I was now very excited, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I quickly hustled up the others, quick quick. We all looked at the tunnel in glee. Rainy day adventure time!
We made our way into the tunnel and all of our inner children took over. We skipped, we stomped, we looked through the windows along the wall and pretended we were shooting pheasants, or hiding from enemies. It was glorious fun!
At the other end we entered a building with a narrow staircase. This was better than we could have ever imagined. We had reached Castello del Leone ("Fortress of the Lion"). The pentagon shaped castle has four towers on each corner and a bastion in a triangular shape. The castle had been built in order to get strategic control over the entire area of Lake Trasimeno. Now in the courtyard there is a stage that is used for local performances and there are some tables, chairs and bar areas that look as if they may get used in summer. Exploring was fabulous as thanks to Italy and its not so strict safety guidelines we were able to dodge more enemies and climb up all of the towers to spy on incoming enemies while continuing to shoot more wildlife. The rain stayed at bay for the entire time that we skipped, laughed and played through the castle and fortress grounds. Eventually we skipped our way back up the tunnel to the museum where this time we had the patience to look at some of the artwork and artefacts in a more mature manner.
After leaving the museum and the wondrous fortress we walked back through the town, a local woman at a shop invited us in to taste some wild boar, which Anna and I did, it was wild boar salami, and it was VERY good! Anna bought some biscuits and we munched on biscuits as we made our way back to the car.
Anna suggested that we go to Montepulciano, which we had heard was worth a visit. So Brett drove while the rest of sat quietly considering the benefits of catching a nap. As we parked in Montepulciano, it started to rain. And it pretty much did not stop most of the time we were there. We didn’t spend anywhere near enough time there, but the weather was not conducive to touristing, however we managed to try on some shoes and eat gelato, win win! Clearly a beautiful town, one that caters to wine and food and hopefully maybe one day, a place we might get back to to visit on a sunny day.
We drove back to the villa, we had squeezed a lot into a fun day, and we were all so please that we had made the effort to go.
Back at the villa, Paul and I headed upstairs, it was time to back, we were leaving a day ahead of the others, and we had to leave at 4.30 in the morning, so packing had to be done now.
We had dinner and wine and a lovely last evening with the group. Paul and I headed off to bed early in preparation for a long day ahead. We all hugged and farewelled and promised to write. Okay that’s me just being dramatic now, actually we promised to try and not wake them when we got up at the crack of dawn to leave the next morning.
Sunday morning came quickly. It was always going to as the alarm was set for 4.15. Time for a quick shower, throw the last bits and pieces in our bags and head downstairs. We had packed the bulk of the luggage and bike boxes into Brett’s car the night before. Brett being the fabulously generous being that he is, was also getting up at stupid o’clock to drive us to the train station. Brett helped us get our luggage onto the platform and then headed back to the villa to go back to sleep while it was still dark.
Paul and I bought our tickets to Florence and then Florence to Pisa Airport. Our flight wasn’t until 12:50, however the connecting trains left us with no choice except to catch the 5.15 train to Florence.
As usual when traveling with bike boxes, travel sometimes feels like it resembles many a stress filled scene from the TV show, The Amazing Race, I swear it is good training for it, and perhaps we should audition for it! There we are standing on the platform, and have just dragged the bike boxes to another spot on the platform so that we can go and sit inside a waiting room where it was warmer, as we are about to sit down, I have a sudden realisation. “Aahhh Paul, I think we are supposed to be on the other side”. Paul looks at me and I see the light bulb go off. Yep this is the side we got off when we arrived from Florence 6 days ago. Yikes, we survey the luggage at our feet, two big, heavy bike boxes, two cabin size suitcases, a backpack each, and a bag each. We look across the tracks at the other platform. “Okay”, I say, “ I will go over and confirm the train etc”, I go down the stairs, under the track and up the stairs to the other side, “Yep” I nod across to Paul. While you are imagining this, bear in mind that in most of Italy, the drop down from the platform to train tracks is a step down, it’s not the big drop like it is in Australia and most of the UK, it is literally a step down. Paul calls across to me that we are going to carry the bags across the tracks as there is no way in hell that we are carrying them down and up the “bloody stairs” (slight mis-quote erring on being polite). Being the virtuous goody two shoes that I am. I say a big no. I am not walking across the tracks, its illegal. Not to mention potentially highly dangerous and oh, my mum will kill me! Due to time constraints and the logistics of moving the load, I sigh, whisper, “sorry Mum” and step down on to the track. In no time at all we and all our luggage are safely on the platform, the right one this time.
In the continuing theme of The Amazing Race, we discuss the strategies of boarding the train with the entire luggage in time to ensure everything and both of us alight safely before the train departs. So far all of our train boarding has been at the start of the train line, not mid-journey. As the train nears, we watch nervously and as it pulls up we go into action and like a well-oiled machine (bar some stressful agonised curt words at each other) we load all the bags and ourselves onto the train. With each stop the train got busier and busier. How weird 5.30 on a Sunday morning what were they all up to? It increased the tension a little as our bike boxes were taking up considerable room.
Eventually we arrived in Florence, and again we were limited on time to make our connecting train. And we still had to find the platform it was on. Thankfully, one thing I am good at is reading quickly. We get off the train and while I am loading up my luggage, I scan around and find an electronic display of all the trains, I locate our platform and off we go. I was moving faster than Paul as unbeknown to me, the handle for pulling the bike box broke off, so he was now carrying it, just to add to the degree of difficulty as he still had his pull along cabin bag and backpack as well. While I am making my way down the platform, a woman comes along and starts trying to help me with my bike bag. I say No, quite firmly. This doesn’t work. I say No thank you. This doesn’t work, I say No No NO. And this doesn’t work. I get on the train and suddenly out of nowhere 3 people who are clearly with her, start taking my bags and “helping” me, to get it all up on the train. I did say No. Then they run back to “help” Paul. He says no as well. Paul gets on the train and is absolutely livid. Saying No to gypsies doesn’t actually work. I think perhaps ‘Fck Off’ (sorry Mum), might work. So we gave them some coins as it was the only way to get rid of them. They asked for more and this time I got angry, and I yelled at them, they left after that!
The train trip to the airport was mostly uneventful, except for the conductor who was so nice he wanted to confirm with us that we didn’t want to use the ticket to go anywhere else apart from the airport, because this ticket wouldn’t let us. He didn’t speak English, and we didn’t speak Italian, so it was quite confusing until one nice woman came up and interpreted for all us.
Once at the airport we just sat and waited and waited and waited to check in. And then finally to board the plane and we were on the way to London. England adventures here we come!
We flew into Gatwick airport on Sunday afternoon, grabbed our luggage and made our way to the car hire place to pick up our “pre-booked” car. A lengthy wait ensued as the car we were meant to have had been in a crash, so we sat and hung out in the airport while we they found us another. I used the time wisely to research the left luggage options for future reference.
Eventually we were in the car and driving around in circles outside the airport while we waited for the Tom Tom to find its signal. It did, and we were on the way to Sutton Coldfield. Sutton Coldfield was our destination of stop one to try and catch up with us much as Paul’s family as we could while in the UK. As we drove to (Aunt) Chris’s and (Uncle) Paul’s, we took in the scenery. I love that England obligingly looks English, that it just fits so neatly into all the postcards, story books and pictures that I have ever seen. It’s not my first time in the UK, but every time I see it, I'm chuffed that it turns on the ‘English’ for me.
The drive to Sutton was about 3 hours. We arrived at Chris and Paul’s, Chris had arranged with some of the family to all come to dinner to catch up. We had plenty of time to unpack and shower and get respectable. However as we pulled into the driveway there were already a couple of cars there. We laughed when we pulled in, because it wasn’t really a surprise. The family has grown since we last visited as some of the kids have had kids. By 7 o’clock the house was swarming, with chatter and laughter and playing and talking over each other and more laughter. I think there was possibly about 20 of us eventually from tiny tots all the way through to the very gorgeous nearly 90 Uncle George.
Chris being the smart and resourceful woman she is had arranged with a local Indian Restaurant to cook and deliver a shed full of food. We kicked off the evening with customary beer/wine/juice/drink of choice. And we commenced the catch up. By midnight most of the clan had left, and Paul and I were close to falling asleep, it had been a long day getting up at 4.15 that morning for the leaving Italy adventure. We bid our good nights and slipped away, leaving Chris and Paul and Tony and Irene to chatter on into the night.
Morning came and for the first time in a while we slept in, eventually we got up and on with the day. We decided to kick the day off by unpacking the bikes, putting them together and heading out for a ride. Before we left for the ride, Paul was having some gear shifting problems, he worked on remedying that for quite a bit, and then off we rode. About 4 kilometres down the road, as we reached some undulations, Paul was having problems shifting gears, eventually after a kilometre of swearing and muttering, we turned right into a side street to assess the situation. After much assessment and more swearing and muttering, it was deemed that situation was useless. We rode back to Chris and Paul’s and started looking up local bike shops, this one was outside of our fiaxable control. Bad news, lots of bike shops on Mondays are closed! We found one that did Monday’s in inner Birmingham and this appealed to the shoppers within as we could go check out the Bullring. I am always amazed every time that I go to the UK, when people ask where, Birmingham is always one of the places we go (Sutton Coldfield is just out of Birmingham), so many people respond with disdain and or incredulity “why would you go there”, I always assume that they have never actually given Birmingham a proper look. There is so much to do there and the Bullring, without fail, is one of the great places to go shopping. And every visit I manage to find at least some clothes and some shoes. I was looking forward to this visit and was hoping it would make up for my inability to buy shoes in Italy failure!
First stop Bike Shop. Bike Shop said, mmmm, maybe, perhaps we can look at it tomorrow. We said okay thanks we may bring it back tomorrow. We then drove to the Bullring and hit the shops! By now it was well after lunch and the shopping fervor had waned a little. We ambled around from shop to shop and tried things on, but I was in a maybe mood and wanted to process and think about everything, so I left mostly empty handed, with the exception of two pairs of fantastic shoes. Given our luggage situation, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Driving out of Birmingham at 5 in the afternoon is not a smart move and traffic was less than ideal. Back at Chris and Paul’s we parked and then walked into the centre of Sutton Coldfield to suss out some important shops, like a Barber for Paul. They were closed, but thankfully we found a bottle shop, so all was not lost and we took back some supplies to re-stock Chris and Paul’s fridge from the night before.
Chris had only just got home from work not long before we got there, and Paul B was starting night shift that night, he had his cereal for his dinner/breakfast and headed off to work.
We knocked together an easy left over meal and had some wine and stayed up talking with Chris. Eventually, midnight was nigh and we laughed at how quickly the time disappears once we start talking and solving the problems of the world.
The next morning, we had another lazy sleep in, and got up by about 7:30. The house was quiet with Chris having already left for the day and Paul B was asleep having come in from night shift. We had breakfast and planned our day, which was kicking off with trying some more bike shops.
The first bike shop we stopped at had the answer, and the guy, there and then fixed Paul’s bike and charged very little for the frustrating fiddly job. Bike back in the car and we were on our way to the Black Country Living Museum in Dudley.
The Black Country Living Museum is an open-air museum of rebuilt historic buildings in Dudley in the West Midlands of England. It covers approximately 26 acres of area and realistically you could spend an entire day here. We were on a shortened version, and were aiming to do it in half a day. It came recommended from Uncle Tony as being a must-do and we had been given the run-down on the ‘must-see/do’s’ while there. So - we hit the ground running.
The museum is on former industrial land partly reclaimed from a previous railway goods yard, so there are disused lime kilns and old coal pits. The museum has preserved some buildings from around the Metropolitan Boroughs of Dudley, Sandwell and Walsall and the City of Wolverhampton; mainly in a specially built village. Most buildings were relocated from their original sites.
For Perth people who have visited Pioneer Village in its heyday , the Black Country Museum is rather like that, but on steroids – big time – and with more history, obviously.
Our first stop was a a building with a working replica of a Newcomen steam engine. The engine was used for pumping water from coal mines on Lord Dudley’s estates. This engine on display is a full scale working replica of the 1712 engine and took ten years of research and construction!
As we walked on, reading the map and drafting a semi-survival plan for the day, we came across what appeared to be a little house, on entering we discovered a woman from the “olden days” inside stoking a fire. She explained that we were in the Woodsetton toll house, which was thought to be built in 1845 and its function was to collect tolls on the Sedgley to Tividale turnpike road. The interior had been renovated using old photos for reference and even has a vegetable garden out the back.
Moving on, we came across Hobbs and Sons. Uh-oh! Tony had stressed with great enthusiasm that this is where we would experience the BEST fish and chips ever! Ever ever! I reminded Paul of what Tony had said, and we decided that when in the Black Country Museum……. So, in we went, there was hardly anyone there, two guys sitting outside eating fish and chips and us. Was this a good sign? I read on a small sign at the door that the fish and chips were cooked in beef dripping, pushing the thought to a dark place in my mind, I ordered 2 fish and chips. Oh my, what big serves they were! We looked at our meal in hand, looked at each other and proceeded to taste our wares. Oh sweet Jesus, what is this evil goodness? Cripes they were indeed rather sensational. I dragged myself away from the evil goodness and binned about a third of it. And we carried on. When we walked back past about 30 minutes later the queue to buy fish and chips was out the door!
We wandered over to the village, the village shops include Gregory's General Store, Emile Doo's chemist shop, a sweet shop and cake shop. There was even a bike shop, but this was closed, for good. There were some old photos and certificates still in the shop front window, which were fun to read. We continued on to the Bottle and Glass Inn, we only looked once inside as we had consumed more than enough at Hobb’s so the Inn stop was purely for viewing.
We headed down to the canal, and it would have been fantastic to go on a barge trip, but today wasn’t the day for it. We stopped at the sweet shop and bought some pear drops and humbugs and carried on.
Throughout the museum, there are employees dressed appropriate to the era. They all have jobs, be it, selling in shops, serving beer, doing kiln and blacksmith things, stoking a fire, telling stories, it all adds to the authenticity of the place and is a great location for school excursions, and consequently there were plenty of school children.
As part of these excursions, schools can arrange to have the children attend an early century lesson at St James School. We were able to sit in an adjacent room and watch and listen through the glass. The teacher explained why the children back then were not “allowed” to be left-handed and ran them through some times tables and also taught them how to write correctly.
Over to Brooke St, to look at some old houses, in one little house, Pitt’s Cott, we were told that the house was self-built by the Pitt family using second hand bricks, making it rather uneven and giving it a home-made look. Apparently at one stage the family was so large that it housed 8 people, all living in one bedroom, one kitchen and an added on laundry!
Down the street we visited the Oliver Shop which was the major nut and bolt manufacturer in the 1930’s. There were no workers on today, so we peered through the windows and read some of the information and carried on to The Workers' Institute. Originally built in Cradley Heath, this is quite a landmark to one of the most significant achievements of the history of British labour. Upstairs we found a memorial to Mary Macarthur, one of Britains greatest union leaders.
In 1906 Mary formed The National Federation of Women Workers (NFWW). The Federation campaigned to expose the evils of the sweated trades and played a major part in persuading the Liberal government to pass the 1909 Trade Boards Act which was an attempt to fix minimum wages in the most exploitative trades. We left Mary, and headed off to the coal mine.
At the coal mine we assessed the queue and also the time of day, and also the strategic matter of safety hat on head with a big bun hairdo going on (not Paul), with all three combined we opted to give it a miss and headed on to the museum’s vehicle display. The garage wasn’t open, so we had to settle for looking through the windows at some really amazing old cars including a 1903 Sunbeam and a 1912 Star.
Looking at the map, we had covered just about everything, with the exception of some underground and water excursions. Heading out through the exit, we had a good look at the gift shop, resisted the temptation to buy anything and made our way to the car park.
Back in the car, we opted to head back to the Bullring, I had done some processing of yesterday and there was a skirt that I ‘needed’.
A couple of hours later, sitting in a bar on the edge of the Bullring, we sipped on some drinks while we surveyed the shopping bags at our feet, including another pair of shoes! We had both managed to shop well and this was going to create a little bit of a challenge come luggage time.
Back into the traffic to Sutton Coldfield, where we found a late night Barber (on a Tuesday, winning!) and while Paul had his hair cut, I went and perused the bottle shop. We made it back to Chris and Paul’s. Chris had cooked us dinner and the three of us sat down for dinner and another night of late night gas-bagging, while Paul B headed off to work.
On Wednesday morning, we had breakfast with Chris, we rang Uncle George to say goodbye and then packed the car and headed to Manchester. We were going to Manchester for one main purpose. The Masters Track World Championships were on and my friend Bec, was competing. The added bonus was that another friend, Sue, was also competing.
Arriving in Manchester we drove straight to the Velodrome, no time to mess around, Bec was racing a qualifying round today and I had to be there. We settled in and started to watch the qualifying, it was some time until Bec was on and so Paul decided, being the big Manchester City fan that he is, that he best go check out the Man City stadium. Unfortunately, he’s timing was completely out of whack and he missed Bec’s qualifying race. He did however go on a great tour of the stadium. Thankfully I saw Bec’s qualifier, and man was it exciting to watch. Qualifying fastest by a couple of seconds, tonight’s final was going to be a nailbiter! Being there for Bec's final was nerve wracking, but after several new grey hairs and some very high blood poressure moiments for me, I was so proud to watch Bec cross the finish line as a World Champion in your age group for the IP. So awesome!
Whenever I travel I keep a diary. Last time we went to Europe I opted for a blog to share the love (saves sending postcards). I was hoping to use my same account but with a whole new blog, unfortunately after I paid my renewal fee I then learnt that it keeps all the diary entries in one blog. So this is the start of the overseas adventure, starting in Spain.
This trip is with the a group of friends, most of us cycle and we have three sane sensible people in the group who do not cycle. They are insane in different ways. Walking far, hill sprints and stair repeats. Tany, Chris, Matt, Gemma, Caroline, Doug and Ange were all ahead of us and already in Girona. We would be the last in the group to arrive.
Paul and I flew out of Perth at 6am on Sunday morning. We arrived in Girona following a very long 27 hours in transit. As always the case when traveling to this side of country from Australia - long tiresome flights. The small price you pay to get to see some amazing things.
We had arranged a transfer from Barcelona to Girona through our accommodation and our transfer driver spoke no English and drove very fast. It was a little terrifying to be on unknown roads on the "wrong" side of the road, sitting on 135km/hr in a vehicle that was struggling once it was over 120k, with the driver sporadically on his phone checking his WhatsApp messages, occasionally hitting the rumble strip (making sure we stayed awake). As we drove into Girona, away from the main roads the streets got older and narrower. We wound our way up dead end looking cobble stoned laneways around tight little corners that my car at home would not be able to turn in. We were deposited at the top of a laneway with our luggage and through the language barrier we were told to wait and someone would come and let us into our accommodation. As he drove off we looked around wondering just where we were and who was going to come and save us at midnight in the old Jewish Quarters in Girona. The wait didn’t take too long and a lovely (older) non English speaking couple turned up and let us in. Our accommodation is truly amazing. An old Jewish building, Casa Cundaro, we are staying in apartments. Downstairs there is a "cave" to keep our bikes and bike bags. And as with all cycling holidays in Europe, there are always stairs to climb to get to bed.
We got to bed not long after midnight and were both very awake by 5am. We decided that the best course of action was to head back down to the bike cave to put the bikes together and to wait patiently for all our friends who had arrived several days before to wake up.
While we were still doing bike things Doug and Caro both turned up and Doug came bearing gifts - toast! Brilliant, we were starving! Before long the rest of the gang and rebanded and it was exciting times and lots of talking. Gemma and Caroline were keen to go for a morning walk, as were Ange and Tanya and as Paul and I still hadn’t seen anything, it made sense to go with them. And so started our Girona chapter.
The views were lovely. We walked all up (return trip) for nearly an hour, but left the real walkers to keep on going, Paul and I were keen to get a follow up breakfast and head out for a ride. We got bikes ready and headed to the new "local" cafe with Chris, Doug and Matt. Eventually by 10 am we headed out on a group ride with the local bike touring group and bike shop.
The ride took us up the famous Els Angels hill climb and some 70km of rolling hills later we arrived back in Girona. Day one was off to a great start.
The day continued with much oohing and ahhing and just getting a feel of where we were and what we need to see and do over the next 10 days.
One of the most obvious things here is the amount of stairs - EVERYWHERE! Sore cycling legs plus stairs. And going down them is somewhat more painful than going up. But for now the wow factor of just being here is more magical than stair hurt.
We did well to stay up on our first night until 10pm. We closed out the day with all of the Lycra Family in our room and a thrown together mish mash meal of tuna, salad, fresh bread, wine, ham and cheese. Happy reunion.
Day two ended with me walking through the cobblestoned streets of Girona saying, it's like walking through my imagination. It truly is, one minute is 'we are on the set of a Game of Thrones scene', the next minute is pinching myself with, oh wow check this out, we're in Spain!
Day Two started at the local coffee shop, surprisingly open very early, 8 a.m., which is very early for Spanish time! We were meeting the rest of the cyclists in the group there for coffee (breakfast for those of us that still had not stocked their fridges) and then heading out for a ride. Today's ride plan was to ride with Luke, who many of the group know from Perth, Luke is now a "famous" pro rider, rides for Orica Green Edge. Luke said he would show us a good steady (easy) loop around Girona, had to be an easy ride as some of the gang were signed up to do a 10 kilometre uphill time trial later in the morning. So after testing the local, recommended to be amazing, chocolate croissant, (it was) we headed off with Luke leading the way. The company was great and the ride route was lovely. We ended up at the start of the Time Trial and mucked about in typical fashion, taking photos and talking some nonsense, before Paul and I took everyone’s spares and jackets etc. so they could time trial as light as possible. Paul headed off up the hill to meet them all at the finish and I rode back to Girona with Luke so that I could spend some non-lycra time as a non-cyclist.
The time triallers all did really well, top 4 in their categories all of them, with Chris and Doug both on the podium, 2nd and 3rd, respectively.
Meanwhile back in Girona I headed off to the shops with the Prada Twins. Gemma and Caro are over achievers when it comes to shopping. And today did not disappoint, I just watched and got my retail therapy vicariously while they dropped a few pennies over the counters. After some healthy shopping, we headed to the main square, Plaça Independencia, for a little snack and to figure out the what next of our day. Here we ordered some olives and some sangria. My first ever sangria. We had a lovely time just sitting in the square, people and place watching sipping sangria talking highbrow and lowbrow. Sitting with friends where the conversation moves easily from political conversations back to the woes of big hair in humid weather, and everything in between.
Finally in the afternoon, around 3 and starting to verge on hangry, six olives are not enough sustenance after cycling, walking and shopping all day, we went to Vinil, a little Spanish restaurant for lunch. We caught up with Paul and Matt and eventually Tanya and Chris swung by to say hi as well. We lunched on true Spanish lunch time after which we went for a wonder and then a gelato, and then headed to the museum, up the road from our accommodation. It is the city’s History Museum and the building itself is known as the “Institut Vell” meaning Old Institute
It was now fter 5pm, we had missed siesta o'clock, however we were in need of a little recharge, everyone went there separate ways for some down time. We regrouped at 7.30 to head to the Piaza area to meet Luke and his girlfriend Lara at a recommended wine bar, Placa Del Vi 7. Wine turned into dinner and we were starting to feel a little more localised, eating well after 8pm!. Drinks were great, dinner was great, converstion was great, surprisingly we never run out of things to say.
As we walked our way back through the narrow cobbled roads and up the never ending stories, all I could do was just breathe it all in, and add the pictures, tastes and sounds to my memory bank of wonderful expoeriences.
Wednesday morning dawned with the tolling of the bells. So no different to any other morning. And actually they are on the hour every hour, it's not just a dawn thing. And they chime once at quarter past, twice at half past and three times at quarter to. At first I thought that there must be a set pattern, but of course it's not that simple. Traditionally the bells were not only used for telling the time, but also for communicating, the bells are rung for festivals, funerals and prayers. They are rung a different number of times for different messages. As yet I have not yet managed to find out why at 7.05 this morning it appeared to be 33 o'clock, however I am hoping that before we leave here I can get closer to the bells, at the very least go on a tour of the cathedral where the bells are housed.
Today, we were heading out for a ride with just our group. Unfortunately I was not feeling Olympic, or not even great, so in a lunge of desperation I decided to have a coffee with my breakfast. As a complete non coffee drinker, this is completely out of character and Paul looked at me as if I had started conversing in fluent Catalonian, also a no go. So i had a small ham and salad roll with a cappuccino for breakfast. As we were sitting at the cafe, Paul asked me how it tasted, I wrinkled my nose and told him that it was awful. But i finished it. What a fascinating experience. I took photos to prove the conquering of my quest and showed the rest of the gang when they arrived. Amongst the group we use the term Bandwidth when someone does something way out of their comfort zone, so this was my first holiday bandwidth moment. After breakfast we headed out on a glorious ride through some magnificent countryside. I still felt average, but the coffee definitely did work like a bit of a wonder drug and I moved up the scale of Sloth to Olympian, slightly, enough to survive the hilly ride.
Once back in Girona we stopped at our other "local" cafe and I had a chia sensation bowl. It was incredible! We messaged Gemma and Caro to learn that they were already on their way to Barcelona and we let them know that we would meet them there. After showering and de-lycraing, we walked to the train station and missed the 12.58 train that we thought we might make, turns out the walk to the station was longer than we knew. Finally after a 40ish minute wait, we caught the 1.41 slow train to Barcelona. 90 minutes later, we got to our destination. Some of us had booked tickets to go and see Basilica de la Sagrada Familia - a Roman Catholic Church. It was about a 30 minute walk from the station and as we didn't really know where we were going, we thought it wise to head in that general direction. The tour time was 4.30, and we had got off the train at 3.15. We found the church and had time for a quick snack and drink before heading in, a couple of plates of patatas bravas and sangria and beers all round and we were sufficiently sated to survive until dinner. Matt, Doug, Ange, Paul and I headed to the church while Tan and Chris wondered off to look around. We met Gemma and Caro in the church and checked the amazingness of it all out. Construction of the church started in 1882, the anticipated completion date is 2026! The construction of the church has had a few interruptions, a change of architect - changing the style and influence of the design, the Spanish war, a lack of funds. The outside of the church is incredible and the inside is simply amazing, a definite must see!
It was then time to head to the other side of Barcelona to go and see La Rambla boulevard - mainly because its famous and on the list of must do's in Barcelona. We re-grouped with Tan and Chris and waved Gemma and Caro goodbye, they had found a must go back to shop and needed to attend to their shopping duties. Twenty minutes into our walk to La Rambla, someone suggested we get a taxi. The taxi driver said it wasn’t worth it and that it would only take us 10 minutes to walk there. At least 30 minutes later, we finally got there. Turns out the taxi driver was a lazy shit and clearly didn't need the money. La Rambla is a tree lined mall full of markety type stalls, shit fairy shops basically. But the walk was worth it due to the most amazing massive food market, La Boqueria (The Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria), this place has to be seen to be believed, it is like a candy store of fruit, vegetables, pastries, fish, meat and even candy. Everything is fresh and vibrant and oh so magical! I would go again and again and again if I had more time in Barcelona. After being wowed by the magic of La Boqueria we started the long walk back to the station and caught the slow train back to Girona. The train trip wasn't too arduous, and despite everyone's tiredness we had a pretty chatty train trip home, including some interesting people watching when a man boarded the train dressed in a pair of cut off denim shorts that left nothing to the imagination and good lord someone please buy that man some pants!
Back in Girona, we walked back to the eating area and had a very very late, very Spanish time, dinner, ordering at 10 p.m. It would seem we were now officially on Spanish time!
So much walking yesterday. So many stairs. Those beautiful, romantic, poetic beautiful stairs. Then there are stairs to get up to our room. Stairs at the train station. Stairs in museums, shops, restaurants. Stairs stairs stairs. Stairs. Sore legs from cycling. Sore legs from stairs. And so much walking. It all seemed like a fabulous idea at the time, and boom this morning, CAN NOT move. Ouch. I dealt with it all by declaring a lycra free day, as did Tanya. Paul, Chris, Matt and Doug all opted to go for a ride. We started the day with breakfast at La Fabrica, the other local cafe, where we found the rest of the band, the non-cycling members. Those that were cycling headed off to join the local shop ride, we got a message soon after they left to let us know they were going for 100ish kms and would be back later in the afternoon. Gemma, Caro, Ange, Tanya and I opted for some slow mooching wandering through the streets. Because our legs were too sore to do real walking. Gemma left to head back to her room to do some work, the rest of us went shopping for several hours, pretending that we weren't really walking much. After some time our breakfast was a distant memory and we declared it beer and potato time. We stopped at a restaurant in the main square and ordered no potatoes and no beer (sometimes we are actually all talk). I hoed into a tuna salad, so much salad, and so cheap, I decided that a sangria would pair nicely with my meal. Clearly I have a gift, it was magnificent! After lunch we headed back to the shop that we had started our day at, as we had only looked at that stage and felt that we need to do some proper looking. We got there and it was closed - of course it was now siesta time! We ambled back to our accommodation (up the stairs), then once inside, up more stairs to our rooms - the torture!
Back at camp, there was no sign of the boys and after some quasi siesta time Tanya and I headed out for a walk. Going via the back of the cathedral, the cycling race village was set up and there we saw the boys enjoying an obligatory post ride beer. At 4.30 it was time for the shops to re-open so we headed back to shop number one, where we bumped into Gemma and Caro, it was worth the trip back. Purchases were made. Several more shops, and then general wondering and we headed back home to get ready to go and watch the night time cycling event, the Nocturn. A criterium through the hilly narrow cobbled "roads" of the old part of town. Doug and Toggs were both racing, the rest of us were there for support and social media duties. We found a bar on the course, which gave us the best front row seats and we settled in, of course with beer and wine and tapas (alas - no sangria on the menu). Both boys did really well, Doug 4th overall and Toggs 13th overall - magnificent effort. There was a small incident where a moped rode on the course and argued with the officials that he had a right to be there and that they had no right to do anything about it. Paul helped by taking his keys out of the ignition and handing them over to the organisers. While I thought that this was rather overzealous and out of line, everyone else seemed rather appreciative of it. We wrapped the night up going our separate ways, some for dinner, some for an early night.
Of course to get home we had to go up the stairs again!
Today was a picturesque day. The sun shone, it wasn't windy, and everything looked like it needed to have its photo taken.
Paul and I started the day with breakfast in our room, weet-a-bix, banana and strawberries. We then left and headed to La Fabrica with Tan and Glas and met up with the rest of the crew. Toggs and Doug were both having a non lycra day after their impressive (crazy) noctun the night before. Ange, Gemma and Caro had been on some crazy long walk. After coffees all round (or not for some of us), we headed on our separate paths. Tanya went to ride up Els Angels climb because she is crazy, Paul Glas and I headed out for an easy ride. Tomorrow is the Gran Fondo, 125 hilly kilometres and we all had our different ways to prepare, mentally and physically for it. We started our easy ride by joining an organised shop ride, but turned back early and looked after ourselves. On our return trip, we saw some interesting buildings up a small hill and Glas suggested we go and take a look. It was beautiful, a small (population 11) town, and a church. Old, everything is just so historic!
After our ride and band regroup, we agreed that we were, uncharacteristically, we were all hungry and made our way to the square to eat. Tuna salad and sangria, smack talk and people watching and we were all happy again. Late lunch, these Spanish hours are truly fabulous. We headed back to our accommodation via the supermarket and on the way Tanya and I found a small shop that required our attention, coincidentally we Gemma wandered in and found us and the shopping stars were well aligned and we all found things that we needed to buy. This little shop was truly amazing, so small and all the clothes were being made in this tiny space behind the till. The hand drawn patterns were pinned up on the wall. The various fabrics for the clothes are sourced from anywhere in Europe that has good stuff. The fabrics for today’s purchases were from Florence. And then everything hand made on the shop floor. Exquisite.
Tonight in Girona, there is an urban downhill cycling competition, so all the mountain and downhill bikes come out for a timed downhill run through the old streets, down stairs, around crazy bends. These riders are seriously crazy! In the warm up laps there were four broken bikes, one broken arm and several bloodied heads and bodies. It turns out that the course was changed from last year. After all the crashed during training, they then changed the course back to be the same as last year.
After watching the downhill, and getting lots of fabulous photos and videos and plenty of wincing we took our bags of picnic nibbles that we had packed and made our way to a little roof top park that we found on the walk down some of the many stairs on the way to watch the downhill.
Here we ate and laughed and amused ourselves with our own version of Spanish, which pretty much means removing the first letter or your name and replacing it with an H. This is pretty silly and no doubt not amusing to an outside observer, but it seems that we do not tire of calling each other, Hemma, Hannon, Hange etc. etc. Of course it only works if the H is said with a distinct phlegmy guttural sound. The dusk twilight and the view from our picnic finished the picturesque day off perfectly. And we all went home, happy, tired and some of us a little nervous about what tomorrow's Gran Fondo may bring.
Gran Fondo - cycling speak for long organised/timed long bike ride/race. Gran Fondos are run on challenging courses that include a significant amount of vertical climbing. The Girona Gran Fondo, one of the reasons we picked Girona as our Spanish destination, was on today. 125km with over 1800 metres of climbing. All of the Perth crew were treating it like a race. As with all things in life, cycling is no different - everyone is fighting their own battle, mental and or physical. I had entered the Gran Fondo, to not race but to help overcome some of my own mental struggles on the bike.
Girona's weather had been perfect for our first 5 days, I woke on Saturday morning to see rain out the window. I am not averse to riding in the rain, but mass participation events/races, especially in a foreign country on unknown roads plus rain was not on my list of ideal situations. Unfortunately my brain tripped out and at 7 a.m. I was staring out the window overlooking the gorgeous Girona with tears in my eyes. Paul, the ever pragmatic, sympathetically pointed out the obvious "you don't have to do it". But I knew that within myself I did, it was part of the battle.
A battle in the old town of Girona, quite poetic really.
Thankfully the rain cleared before the start of the race. It was a mass start, and we were on cobblestones. Slippery little suckers! But the cobbles were only there for the first few hundred metres and of course added to the romanticism of it all (looking back of course, at the time they added to the nervousness of it all, plus being surrounded by people that were not so awesome in their bike handling skills). Once on the main roads, the first 4 kilometres were neutral, and at the 5km mark the groups started to form and the faster riders sorted themselves to the front and their race commenced in earnest. I settled in and made peace with the reason why I was there. I know that I am not in any kind of race form, physically as well as mentally, and added to that it is that a hilly course does not suit my skills. I caught up with a group of people that had formed, so I joined the group and rode with them until the first aid station. They all stopped, I got my aid station punch in and kept going, descending has been one of my battles over the last 2 years and there was a big descent ahead that I wanted to do solo. Throughout the day, I caught up with other groups, I had moments of "bloody brilliant" descending (it's been a while), I saw things that the racers did not see, a waterfall, some great scenery and some hints of strength in my own legs and some peace of mind that I was on the way back to a 'good place'. Unfortunately, at the 90km mark, I got lost with a guy from Norfolk that I was riding with, we spent a good 12ish minutes trying to find our way back onto the course. We found another guy that was also lost and we then headed back to follow the actual course back to Girona. Unfortunately I dropped them both and rode the next 15kms by myself and then caught up with a super nice guy from Spain. We took it in turns to work on the front for the last 10kms to the finish line and he gave me a hug at the end for helping him get to the finish when he felt like giving up.
So for me the Fondo was a ride, not a race. The positives; I was objectified by two guys who were happy to sit behind me and comment that they were going to add the image of my butt to their memory banks of great things to remember. Aside from objectification, I had some pretty good (miles ahead from where I have been recently) descending and I saw some solid strength. And I saw Girona and surrounds through the eyes of someone who has the time to look around.
It was ups and downs for the rest of the crew. Unfortunately Doug punctured at 7km and his day was over. There were over 300 riders entered, Matt finished and impressive 26th, Glas, 9th and Paul 6th. All very amazing results. The best result of the day was Tanya. Tanya had a small stack during the race and was able to get back on and get going, she ended up finishing first woman across the line. Tanya, isn't one to talk up her own ability, she has loads of natural talent on the bike, and it was Tanya that chose Girona as a great place to celebrate her 50th birthday. Tanya's winning the Gran Fondo was so exciting for all of us, it was simply brilliant to see her on the top step and a fabulous nod to her as a cyclist. A good day out. We finished our day with a group dinner, lots of talk, post morteming of the day, and plans for an easy ride tomorrow.
Our time at the Game of Thrones accommodation had come to an end. It was time to move our house. We were both sad and excited. Our Game of Thrones apartments had been good fun, and oh so like living on a movie set in so many ways. But we were moving to a 4 star hotel, the small things in life held some attraction, a shower you can move in, a room that will get cleaned more than never in 7 days and a swimming pool! Of course it would be sad to say goodbye to all the stairs and the bike cave and the picturesque views. The cyclists amongst us headed out for an early ride, very early for Spain time, 7.30!!! And it was to be an easy ride. Everyone was sore from the Gran Fondo the day before and some cruisy recovery was the go. We went on a ride where we knew the way, and without too many hills. We had to be packed and out of our room before midday. The ride was fun, with lots of laughing and bad singing of 80s songs. As always when on holidays, there was photo stops to be had. Little things, like the ghost bike at an intersection. Ghost Bikes are small and sombre memorials for cyclists who are killed. A bicycle is painted all white and secured near the crash site, accompanied by a small plaque. They serve as reminders of the tragedy that took place on an otherwise anonymous street corner, and as quiet statements in support of cyclists' right to safe travel. Once back in Girona, we got to packing, 9 people, 6 bikes and normal luggage. Our new hotel was less than 1 kilometre away, but we needed two taxi vans to transport all our stuff. Ange, Gemma and Caro are so incredible at making travelling with bikes easier for the rest of us, they organised the taxis, checked us out and travelled with all our luggage. The 6 of us, rode our bikes through the old streets across the river to our new home. After checking in, we were of course hungry, Matt, Tany, Glas, Paul and I went for lunch. Paul was craving pizza (in Spain) and his craving got the vote and we settled on a place in the square where we ordered 3 pizzas, a salad and a bottle of wine. One of the best things about sitting in these streets for eating is the people watching opportunities. Today's show was a guy who could not getg his scooter started, the poor thing, he tried for nearly 15 minutes, flooding the motor and no doubt flustered by having an audience, a passrerby stopped to give some expert advice, our waiter offerred his opinion, pretty much all ignored by scooter guy. Scooter guy was getting a bit hot and flustered and eventually packed up and walked his scooter out of there! After lunch, Paul and I went for a walk, around the corner we came across Scooter Guy still trying to start his scooter, still hot and bothered but now away from centre stage. Poor guy. He just needed to step away and leave it for a while. Paul and I meandered through Girona, and ended up going into the Basilica de Sant Feliu (Saint Felix Basilica). A fascinating building, dedicated mostly to St. Narcissus and St. Felix. After the Basilica, we wandered through Girona, exploring some unseen laneways and shops. That evening we all went to a nearby restaurant, L'Argadia for dinner. Gemma made a pertinant point that as yet we had not yet tried cava - the Cataln version of sparkling wine. We worked on rectifying that omission and with success we downed 3 glasses. I tried paella for the second time on my visit in Spain, again, it was not all I wanted iot to be. It was over salty and missing something critical in taste. However - the ambience of where we were and the company was brilliant and oversalty paella is easily washed down with this new drink cava :)
Monday was Gemma's birhtday, we all met downstairs in the dining room of our new accommodation for an early birthday breakfast. Following breakfast we headed out on our bikes. Today's plan was to ride to the beach and loop back to Girona, approximately 100 (hilly) kilometres. The short version of the ride - EPIC! Such stunning stunnign views. We stopped at Sant Feliu de Guíxol, on the beach. We went to a cafe on the beach for coffees/cokes/water etc and it turned out that we had chosen the most expensive cafe (possibly in all of Spain), and paid high Perth prices for our drinks. Spain has spoiled us somewhat with how cheap food and drinks are here, it hasn't taken us long at all to adapt. After our pitstop we headed toward Tosa Del Mar. And WOW! the ride, the views - simply breathtaking. Words cannot do any of it justice. It was hilly, but the views provded great a distraction. The photos give you a glimpse of the beauty of what we dubbed 'the Spanish Great Ocean Road'. The ride from Tosa Del Mar back to Llagostera was also hilly, the view nice, but not breathtaking enough to offer a great distraction and I was feeling the pain of riding with those who ride hills very very well, of course the internal dialogue and self appointed pressure of stressing about people having to wait for me added to my self imposed pain. Of course friends being friends don't have a problem with waiting, and sometimes you just have to shut that little voice down. And from all accounts there wasn't really a great deal of waiting. The ride from Llagostera to Girona was steady, withj a slight pause in Llagostera due to a head on car crash on a bend in the road. The road was closed while police and ambulances did their work and on speaking to the police we were advised that everyone was okay. The road was cleared and we headed back to Girona, we were all hungry and went straight to La Fabrica for some post ride breakfast - I had the avocado toast with egg and fetta - yum!
The rest of the day was spent doing Girona wondering. And then heading for dinner at a restaurant across the road from our hotel called Blanc. Tip of the day - average, don't waste your time going there. Regardless of the average service and irrelvant food, it was a fantastic evening. We presented Gemma with her gift, a very large unicorn. (see the photos and video) Hilarity ensued and then Sebastien (unicorn) joined us for dinner. Gemma being Gemma met someone entering the restaurant and turns out that he was kinda a big deal. While we were reading the menu, the waitress came over with the wine list and told Gemma that the 'the gentleman at that table has asked you to choose a bottle of wine you would like with your dinner, happy birthday". Following dinner we saw a group of British men who are staying in the same hotel and they broke into an amazing harmonious rendition of Happy Birthday. Who doesn't love a good birhtday! I love celbrating birthdays - not just my own. What a great way to kick off our second week in Girona, celebrating.
Lycra free day! Lycra free days on holidays are great because a) it gives you recovery time and b) gives you the opportunity to tap into your inner tourist and maybe take the time to meander a little more. Today we had breakfast a little later than normal - and over breakfast ummed and ahhed the wisdom (commitment) to riding today. In the end most of us gave it a miss and opted for aforementioned meandering. My main priority was to pick up Tanya’s birthday present, I had pre-ordered before leaving Perth, a small bracelet with the charm being the wheel of a bike, with Girona engraved on it. A very apt present as we were there predominately for Tanya’s birthday and she had topped it off by winning the Gran Fondo, the bracelet kind of closed the circle. Funnily each time I left a shop to head to the jewellers to pick up the bracelet I would bump into Tanya, I had to keep changing my plans to get to the jewellers. In between avoiding Tanya and shopping, my morning was pretty busy. For the record I didn’t actually buy anything, but Paul picked up a new shirt.
We all regrouped at the Hotel to drop off shopping and message anyone who was hungry that we were heading out for lunch. We went to lunch, and tried a little place that looked more local, less touristy. It was a fun afternoon and we tried a white sangria made with cava instead of the traditional red wine sangria. It was interesting, kind of like Orange bucks fizz – which is essentially what it is, just called sangria to make you feel like you are in Spain.
Being a lazy day, we were feeling lazy, with most of the shops closed for siesta in the afternoon, we eventually found ourselves chilling out and trialling siesta thoroughly. When in Spain, have an afternoon nap! Why wouldn’t you!?
That evening we all did our own thing, Paul and I went for a walk to find a local Tapas bar that I had read good reviews about called Txalaka. This was like a buffet of Tapas. You help yourself to all the small snacks you want and at the end they count your tooth picks and charge you per piece. It was a fun night. We got there just after 8ish and lucky we were “early”, the locals all started rolling in just after 8.30. Before long the place was packed. We even had tapas desserts, uneccesary – yes, yummy – you bet!
Finaaallllyyyyy….. The day dawned, it was Tanya’s birthday. Yay, how to best celebrate a 50th, go with a group of your favourite people to somewhere amazing and do the things you love to do. Tanya had chosen to do an EPIC ride for today. We started the day with group breakfast to ensure that the non-lycra clad kids could be part of it all. We breakfasted and presented and then agreed on a time post changing into lycra and meet back in the bike cave.
We headed out for our ride and this is my diary so at this stage it’s all about me. Unfortunately I continued my dodgy form and I felt like one hundred percent shit. My legs were not going to lie to me, there wasn’t really a way that I was going to be able to fake my way through these feelings. At the 11 km mark (300 metres – a lot for flat landers like me) I announced that despite my love for Tanya that I would not continue on the epicness of today’s ride, I followed along behind for another couple of kms and then turned back for Girona. I was gutted. I felt like my heart and soul were both breaking. Nothing was working for me on the bike - and when you are on a cycling holiday, it’s a pretty crap way to feel. I turned back, and cooled off the pace, and breathed in the countryside I was riding through. When I got back to Girona, I took and unknown left turn and headed up a new hill. Yes – by myself and I chose to ride up a hill! The hill went for several kilometres, and it was honestly amazing. I didn’t have to kill myself to keep up with my fellow mountain goats. I just road at my touristy pace and took in the views, and stopped for photo opportunities when the view called for it. For the first time in a while, I felt okay about “just riding”. I made my back to the hotel and after dropping my bike in the cave, I bumped into Gemma in reception. Unusually we got talking and I ended up in Gemma and Caroline’s room – talking for about 40 minutes until we opted for reconvening by the pool. We spent the next 2 hours just hanging poolside, way out of character for me, I even went in the water! Completely in character for the Prada twins! The rest of the lycra bandits arrived back from their epic ride and some of them joined us by the pool for small talk and sunshine. As is the norm for most of us, hunger eventually got the better of us and Gemma, Caro, Toggs, Paul and I headed to the square for lunch. Uncharacteristically - we were late for ordering food in Spain. All the kitchens are closed after 3.30. We found a place that was able to offer a small selection and I was more than happy with my ham and salad roll. After lunch, we went our separate ways.
I was very keen to see the Girona Cathedral, and luckily touristy places don’t do siesta. The Cathedral of Saint Mary (in Catalan: Catedral de Santa Maria de Girona, or simply Catedral de Girona) is the cathedral church of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Girona. Its interior includes the widest Gothic nave in the world, with a width of 22 metres (72 ft), and the second widest of any church after that of St. Peter's Basilica. Its construction was begun in the 11th century in Romanesque style, and continued in the 13th century in Gothic style. Of the original Romanesque building only the 12th-century cloister and a bell tower remain. The second bell tower was completed in the 18th century. Quite simply, the cathedral is amazing. It is peaceful and inspiring and intimidating all in the same breath. It has layers of history and is impeccably maintained. It is incredible to be walking on so much history, while outside is 2016 on a sunny day. I think it’s fantastic, how much effort goes into the conservation of these places.
Today was a big day and we had a pretty amazing evening still to come. While still in Perth, Gemma and I had been in communication to find somewhere fantastic to go for dinner for Tanya’s birthday. Gemma has got an amazing network and knew someone who had lived locally and was able to give the low down on where to go. Gem got in touch with the woman that runs the place that was recommended, we checked the menu, asked questions and on a wing and a prayer trusted the advice and booked dinner. Transfers from hotel to dinner and return were booked (45 minute drive one way) and Tanya was given the heads up to wear a dress and be in the foyer by 8.10.
We all got to the foyer in time and the mini bus picked us up. The drive to our destination felt long. Let’s face it, it was after 8, we were as usual all hungry and dinner was still a long way off. We didn’t know the roads, had no idea if we were heading in the right direction, and then the last several kilometres were on limestone gravel in bush. Nothing untoward here!
Just after 9pm, we arrived at Sant Pere Del Bosc Hotel and Spa. Sant Pere is an old monastery, the grounds and building is amazing. There are some modern additions and it is now run as a very flash hotel/spa getaway. They actually don’t open for dinner during the week, and so there we were on a Wednesday night with the place all to ourselves. They opened just for us. The degustation with paired wines menu was exquisite and resulted in a lot of foodography (photos of food). We were all incredibly impressed, the menu was simple, elegant and unique, and the quality of food was outstanding. The wines were brilliant, with special mention going to the rosé of the night, especially interesting as the “non” rosé drinkers even remarked as to how great it was. The weather was on song and we sat out under the stars with views of the mountains, and the ocean on the far horizon. Of course time flew by and suddenly it was 11.30 and our bus had returned to ferry us home. We said our heartfelt thank you’s to the Sant Pere staff and headed home. As with all return trips they are quicker than on the way out – for this particular trip somewhat aided by the group sing along while listening to songs on our mobile phones – predominately orchestrated by DJ Paul. Before we knew we were “home” and it was already tomorrow. With Grease mega mix and Janis Joplin still ringing in our ears we said our good nights and headed off to our separate rooms. It was hard to go to sleep and Paul and I kept playing music for another making for a very late night for us “we do don’t do late nights” peeps.
Thursday morning came quickly. We were all quite tired from our late night. Thankfully the shop ride we were planning on doing didn’t start until 10. Thank you Spain time! After breakfast and bike prep, we headed to the bike shop. Being Spain we the ride didn’t leave until about 10.15, there seriously is no stress here. The ride was great, well controlled and fairly chilled. Within about 45 minutes it was time to stop for coffee, strange but made sense as from there the group was going to split into two groups, those going shorter and those after a longer ride. We all went on the longer option. The route followed some of the same roads as the Gran Fondo, eventually we turned left and away from the course. Having new roads to follow is always good - you don't know how hard or long the hills ahead are so you just keep on going. After about 30 kilometres we stopped and re-grouped, for water refills and another group split. Again opting for the longer version and being told it was all flat, we headed off. When will I ever learn!? No it wasn’t flat - Spanish flat is very different to Perth flat. Nonetheless it was a fabulous ride, including slowing down for some livestock being walked through the back part of what seemed to be an industrial area. There are a lot of things still done without fuss, technology or efficiency here. But it all seems to work and I doubt that anyone is going to die of a heart attack any time soon. We got back to Girona, with only 70 kilometres, but thanks to the undulating terrain, nearly 1000 metres of climbing, thankfully it wasn't really a hilly ride.
We were all still pretty tired and the day drifted by in a holiday-ey haze, preparing to say good-bye to some of the group and feeling quite sad about leaving this beautiful place.
We all met up again for dinner, at a different place in the square. I ordered - determined to find the perfect paella while in Spain – and have finally conceded that while it sounds good in theory, paella just isn’t ever going to be what I want it to be. Just a small thing and did not mar my evening in anyway. Of course being our last evening in Girona, it made sense that we SHOULD have gelato, and we walked around to our favourite gelato place, while making plans for our farewell breakfast and discussing who was riding where the next morning.
Friday morning arrived and I ditched my ride plan based on the time limitation of getting everything (packing and bike packing) to be checked out of our room by midday. I did, however, have time for an active wear morning and headed off for a long walk with Caro and Ange. The walk was fantastic, we went up hills, up stairs, through laneways, and cottage paths, hike trails, and fields. It was truly a beautiful and very memorable way to say farewell to Girona. I got back to our room after a good 90 minute hike and got on with the reality of packing. A quick break at 11.20 to race downstairs to say farewell to Matt, Gemma and Caro who were leaving before us. There were hugs and kisses and cries of ‘miss you’ – and of course photos, and laughing at Sebastien, and wishing Sebastien good luck on getting back to Perth, and then they were gone, leaving the 6 of us – Tanya, Chris, Doug, Ange, Paul and me.
The rest of the day passed in a typical transit day style, not really wanting to do a lot, just wanting to be at the next stop. Doug, Ange, Paul and I went for an easy ‘pizza-by-the-slice’ lunch and then Ange took me to a shop that she had found that sold cheap converse sneakers in every colour. Needless to say, I bought two pairs – cheap!? I was practically making money! Slowly we made our way back to the hotel and spent the next couple of hours whiling away the afternoon in Tan and Glas’s room (who had booked their room for an extra day – smart). Eventually it was 4 p.m. and time to head downstairs and load up our transfer buses with all our luggage to go to the airport.
Airports are a drag and more so when your flight gets delayed with possible cancellation on the horizon thanks to strikes in Italy. We found out later that the “strikes” were due to a soccer game that Italy were in and everyone wanted to watch the game! I hate delays, but this delay resulted in me finding a bottle of my favourite, but discontinued, perfume at the duty free shop! Small things, but this made my day.
Our flight had been rescheduled from 8.30, to 11.10 – then luckily we checked the information board, because it then got re-scheduled again to 9.20, so we raced off to boarding. Only to be delayed once on the plane. We flew out of Barcelona at 10.40. Destination Cagliari, Sardinia. We arrived without incident and were met by our transfer, loaded up the cars with bikes, luggage and people and were driven to our new accommodation. Hotel Nautilus, 60 metres walk across the road to Poetto Beach. It was after 1 in the morning so the commencement of the Italian chapter of our holiday would have to wait until we had caught up on some sleep.
We awoke on Saturday morning to Sardinian sunshine. The weather was beautiful. It was 8.30 a.m. and nearly 30 degrees, my soul smiled, as did I. We sat out on the verandah of our new hotel and ate breakfast. After breakfast, Ange, Tanya and I took the long 60 metre walk to the beach. The water, not the sand. At the front of our hotel - the road is dedicated to walkers, runners, bladers and cyclists, an 8 kilometre stretch of marked cycling lanes, running/blading lane and a walking lane. The hotel we are staying at has got town bikes for guests to use. We thought this was a fabulous idea, it meant that Ange could join us for a ride, and it gave us an opportunity to explore and get a feel for where we were.
We selected our bikes and headed off. We rode to the end of the dedicated stretch believing (following advice given at the hotel) that we would be able to turn left and find our way into the main city, Cagliari, 5 kilometres from where we were staying in Poetto Beach. Alas that was not the case and so we rode back over the same course back toward the hotel. Refusing to be beaten by not knowing where we were, we headed off in search of Cagliari. After a left turn at a roundabout (instead of straight through) we ended up on the side of the road discussing where we should have turned, where we should go. Doug announced that he was over the town bike and that it was killing him and was going back to the hotel. We all told him he was a pansy and to harden up – we are a sympathetic bunch! After some discussion we headed back to the roundabout of wrong turns and eventually ended up at a café. It was after midday and it was time for a snack while we consulted the maps. Doug dug his heels in at this stage and insisted that he had really had enough and went back to the hotel. We adventured on, riding on roads we don’t know and hoping we would find our way. The traffic in Europe is outstanding, no such thing as abuse or not letting you. Everyone is courteous and accepting. It is so different to cycling at home in Perth. It’s so refreshing to feel safe on the road.
We made our way into town – without incident, or without getting lost. There was a small moment when I was sitting behind Glas and didn’t realise that he was coming to a stop at a cross walk. I couldn’t stop in time and thought for sure I was going to hit him hard, he flinched just enough so that as my shoulder, handlebar and side of my leg hit him I was able to stay upright and still continue forward (and thankfully without hitting any pedestrians on the cross walk). We continued through Cagliari and looped down to the marina and then back toward Poetto Beach. A small case of taking a slightly wrong turn which put us on the wrong side of the river, the upside of this was that we came across the lake of flamingos, seeing flamingos for the first time ever was great and of course required a photo stop. Eventually we found our way back to the bike path that we followed home. Rather a big morning out, 26kms on townies is not to be sneezed at! Our rest days tend to never really be all that restful.
After returning to the hotel, Tanya, Paul and I ventured out for a walk to check out the marina, and after that walk, Tanya and I went to the local supermarket to get essentials, fruit, chips, mineral water and aperol spritz.
There are a lot of stray cats here in Poetto Beach, and by a lot – I mean they are everywhere. There are several empty houses in our street and the gardens are littered with cats. Most of the cats are very well fed, it seems that they rely on the ‘kindness’ of tourists and locals. Every day there is fresh food and water put in containers or thrown on the pavers for them. They do not appear to be vicious or even overly timid. I think they are probably part of an organised cat mafia. They are all cool calm and collected and with a fair amount of cattitude.
Paul and I saw in the late afternoon with an aperol spritz and a beer while the others napped. We sat out on the verandah, chatted and researched dinner options.
Dinner ended up being a no fuss affair, at the kiosk pretty much across the road from where we staying. A tuna salad was called for and I tried a new drink, bicicletta. I only ordered it due to the fact that biciletta is Italian for bike, but oh wow, so glad I did – great drink! Campari, pinot grigio and club soda.
We turned in for an early night, we were still tired from our late arrival last night not to mention all of our active resting from the day of exploring. Plans were made to meet up for breakfast and a non-townie bike ride in the morning.
Sunday
Sunday morning, following the normal breakfast routine, we eventually headed out on our bikes. Today's destination - Villasimius, about 45 kilometres south east of our Poetto Beach base. Essentially said to be a flat ride. Or so we thought. But of course it wasn't and I ended the day with just over 1500 metres of climbing. Now for a lot of European rides that is not a great deal of meterage in a 90 kilometre ride, but for this flat lander, it is more than enough.
Glas had done his magic and studied the maps of the area and had worked out the best route for us to go, to get to Villasimius. The ride was lovely. Sardinia has some beautiful coastlines, and the views were a welcome distraction from the discomfort of going uphill (mostly). We stopped in Villasimius for coffee and food, I had a crepe with lemon and sugar. It was nearly just like Mum's, but not quite as good. And the sugar was icing sugar, not sugar. But it was good enough to get me home. Speaking of home, the ride home was horrendous. So scary. We rode into a storm (that we thought we had missed, but it managed to find us), it wasn’t overly wet, but it was a constant light rain, enough to make the roads slippery and potentially dangerous. It was the wind that was the problem - it was gusty and had full control over how we were able to descend. Of course, the storm hit as we were at the very top of the descent, as I came around the bend of one switchback, the wind pushed my bike out toward the middle of the road, not a new experience, but always a horrible one, and in this case we were riding on the “wrong” side of the road, which simply makes the brain and heart rate work a little more overtime. It was scary for all of us. At one stage I said to Chris who was riding behind me, “I’m not coping, go around me”. He didn’t respond or come around so I assumed that he hadn’t heard. He told me later that he was struggling too much to come around, which wasn’t nice, but made me feel better as I assumed that I was just being a wuss, it was comforting to know that everyone found it as terrifying as I did, we were all in it together.
Dinner that night was at a local Mexican, a strange concept while in Italy, but we were slowly learning that things are a little strange in many ways in Sardinia. Including the meal, it was like a tapas of Mexican dishes on one plate, regardless of the meal ordered. It tasted good though, and by the time we left it, the restaurant was packed, always a good sign.
Monday
After yesterday’s ride, Tanya and I were happy to have a day off the bike and spend some time looking around and sightseeing. Paul was keen to fit in a ride early so as to have time for the touristy stuff as well. Paul, Chris and Doug headed out at stupid o’clock (normal time for non-holidaying, stupid early for those of us who had adjusted to Spanish time last week!). The deal was that they would be home in time to have breakfasted, showered and be out the door by 9 am. We left at about 9.30. Italian time is different to normal time.
Ange had sussed out the bus system the day before, she showed us the ropes and we went and bought our tickets from a kiosk just up the road from our hotel and then walked to the main road to wait for a bus, we could catch the PQ, the PF or the 5 Zeus. A PF turned up after about 10 minutes and we headed into Cagliari. Our first planned destination was she San Benedetto markets. Tanya had read that they were the second largest markets in Italy. This is the central market both in terms of location and size. Spread over two floors with some stalls on the streets outside, in theory it should be amazing, but we have some really great markets in Australia, we found it a little underwhelming. I think also, the fact that it was a Monday probably contributed to the markets low vibe, as a considerable amount of things are closed on a Monday in Italy. Most of the downstairs floor is devoted to fish, and wasn’t well stocked the day that we were there, but what they did have looked very impressive. The horse butcher, while a strong reality of life, still somewhat confronting to those of that are not used to the concept. We didn’t stay for long, but long enough for me to find some very well priced stockings in one of the outer shops, and then we re-grouped and headed to a bakery/café, somewhat reminiscent of a Miss Mauds café, we had pastries and croissants and I had the most ahhhmaazing hot chocolate. Italian hot chocolates are out of this world, and so so so different to anything at home. They are pretty much melted chocolate ooze with a touch of milk to make it drinkable. Oh hello!
After our cafe stop we walked back through Cagliari a different way, exploring the newer shopping area and also the older streets, a church and some ruins. Paul was after a pair of fake aviators from the shit fairies and found a shit fary store and bargained for a pair of aviators at the bargain (?) price of 7Euro.
That night we had dinner at a restaurant on the marina at Poetto Beach, called Pirata. The restaurant signs were weird. And walking up the stairs to the restaurant there were a lot of stray cats draping themselves all over the place. We were given a table outside on the verandah overlooking the marina. The views were amazing. The homeless cats were friendly, and the staff kept shooing them away, they were persistent though, and stuck around in the belief that in every group there is a sucker that would give in and feed them. Of course there was and Chris and Paul, both threw some scraps the in the cats general direction. Despite the weird signs, dinner itself was good, my ravioli entrée was great and I had grilled vegetable for main. Dessert was an amazing, goats cheese with honey ravioli. Wow! We walked home via gelato, which some had as a second dessert and then headed home people watching along the active wear laneways. The weather was brilliantly beautiful. And being continuously so close to the water is so peaceful.
Tuesday
On Tuesday morning we headed west on our bikes to go and see a town 40kms away called Pula and then from there another 15 kilometres to see Chia Beach (pronounce kia).
The first part of the ride was a tad nerve racking as we rode along the motor way. Completely safe, but with double lanes of traffic travelling at over 100kms an hour, very daunting. After getting off the motor way we were delayed by a build-up of traffic due to an accident, which we assumed due to the extreme backlog of traffic and the number of high vis marshals, that it must have been pretty bad, it turns out it was a slight bingle and instead of just moving their cars off the road out of the way, it was a major production of doing not a lot about it. There really isn’t a lot of stress in this country.
We stopped in Pula for coffee, of course, Pula was lovely and clean and no graffiti and just very quiet and pretty. After coffee we headed further west to Chia. Chia was well advertised at the airport when we landed in Cagliari, so we were keen to get there and have a look – as it turned out it is just a beach. A beautiful beach and stunning coastlines. Tanya and I took our shoes and socks off and walked up to Torre di Chia, up a cobble paved steep path. The views of Chia Beach and coastline were beautiful. Eventually, hunger overtook us, and we all got back on our bikes to search for food. The café/supermarket/bakery in “town”, the main road up from the beach, was the only place to stop. We had what turned out to be an amazing tuna and salad roll and lots of water.
The ride home was a great tempo pace set by Doug who sat on the front of the majority of the return trip, we took a slight change of route for the return trip and this took us home via the industrial area and then the windfarm. However we couldn’t avoid the motorway forever and eventually we found ourselves faced with crossing the motorway. We knew that we had cut off most of it, but the last bit was unavoidable. Chris was not happy with the thought of going back on it due to the risk of the congested traffic flow at high speed. The rest of us by this stage were just very keen to get home. In the end we split up, and Chris decided to take his chances with reading maps and finding an alternative way home and the rest of us headed for the motorway. As it turned out, we only had just over 3kms of motorway to travel on and before we knew it we were in Cagliari heading home to Poetto Beach. Chris on the other hand went missing from our radar and it was over two hours before we saw him again. A little nerve wracking for all of us, particularly Tanya.
We stopped for gelato when we were nearly home, as we felt after 120ish kilometres that we kind of deserved it. We were also rather hot and edgy, so went across the road to the beach for our first ever dip in the Mediterranean Sea.
Ange had been out for the day, exploring things, but she did return with a packet of Nutella tarts, possibly one of the most amazing evil things ever. And eventually Chris returned with an additional 35 kilometres to his trip and several hours of finding his way.
We had hoped to go to dinner at a restaurant called Jacaranda, but each time we tried to go they were not open. Tonight was no different, this time they were experiencing “technical” problems. So we headed to the café that we had bought the gelato from.
It was a good night, with great service. A tad too much food, especially Paul, who had ordered an entrée and main and they both came out together. Tanya was craving hot chips and when she ordered the chips she confirmed that they were hot. Indeed they were and when her meal was delivered it came with a basket of crisps that had been heated up. Strange but true. And quite fitting with our Sardinia experiences to date.
Wednesday
We rode again to Villasimius, not knowing the area well enough to know where else to ride it was easier to stick to a route that we had already found. We added a slight change to the route and headed up a new path, which was just to see some more scenery and then headed back to the main route to Villasimius, where again we stopped for a snack and then rode home gloriously storm free.
On the drive in from the airport on Friday night, Tanya’s taxi driver and told them about a small cathedral apparently next to the main cathedral, the advice was that it was a must see. So after our ride, Doug, Tanya and I decided to catch the bus to the cathedral. We climbed the 91 steps (counted as we walked) up to the main cathedral, at the top there was a local funeral, which made being a noisy tourist all a little awkward. We couldn’t find the other cathedral anywhere but had a nice walk around the grounds. Time (for our bus tickets) was against us and eventually we conceded defeat and caught the bus back to Poetto Beach, Doug headed back to his room to ice his knee that he had strained while we were Cathedral and Tanya and I went to hike up the big rock, Devils Saddle (Sella del Diavolo), the headland that overlooks the seashore of Poetto and separates it from Calamosca Beach – we could see it every morning from the front of our hotel. The hike to the top took us about an hour, which gave us time for photo stops as well as sometimes taking the wrong path. Unfortunately it was quite late in the afternoon and we knew that the rest of the crew would start to worry, so we didn’t spend quite as much time as we would have liked exploring the top of the rock as we needed to head back, considering it would take us about an hour. We got back to the hotel at 7.30 and of course, we were staarrvviinggg!!!! After a quick shower and change, we all headed out for dinner.
Again, Jacaranda was closed so for the sake of convenience and knowing that the food was okay, we went back to the café from the night before. And again we indulged in gelato after dinner. The staff serving the gelato were starting to recognise us, particularly one young waiter was very happy to see Paul, and gave him an extra big scoop of gelato.
Thursday
Today was lycra free for everyone, we had booked a day out on the water on a yacht. The yacht was leaving at 10.30, which gave us time to have a sleep in, a late breakfast and the bulk of our packing done, as we would be out all day and then leaving at 4.30 the next morning. We walked around to the marina at 10ish, dressed as tourists heading for a day out, it was very exciting to be doing something completely different.
Our day on the yacht, Zemini, was spectacular. We sailed for just a short way at the start of the day and anchored in a small bay at the base of the Devil’s Saddle, we were all already in our bathers and sun creamed so we jumped in and went swimming in the sparkly blue Mediterranean. We swan across to a pebble beach, which was too hard to stand on but worth going to, there was also a cave in the base of the rocks that was worth sticking our heads in, and then we swam back to the boat. Then off we headed to another bay, about an hour away, enjoying the fresh air, the views and just being on a yacht. The next anchor point was in a bay not far from Villasimius, and we had looked down on them while riding there the day before. While swam again off the back of the boat, our boat guys were working away down in the cabin preparing our lunch. When we got back on the boat we were served the most amazing meal. Entrée was a tasting plate of fabulous nibbles and some ginger wine. It went down a treat. Next came a lovely simple main of trofie pasta with tuna, cherry tomatoes, olive oil and basil. A basket of bread and a local bottle of red. While we didn’t think we could possibly need any more food, a fruit platter of goodness was cleaned up, and swilled down with some espresso and an Italian digestive, Briulio. The trip home was a little rockier than on the way there, and some of the crew felt a bit queasy on the way back. We finished back on solid ground at about 5.30, with a group photo with the guys from Zemini and then went back to our hotel. A couple of hours quiet time which included finishing packing and preparing for the early morning departure the next day.
Believe it or not, by 8pm, we were all ready to eat again, this time we decided to try somewhere new and headed to Quince Lounge Bar. It turned out to be a good choice, and it was packed with locals which we took as a good sign. We had one more for the road, last in Sardinia, aperol spritz and Paul and I shared a pizza and some salad.
After dinner, Tanya, Glas and I felt that a final gelato was called for and made our way back to our local gelato place. Again we were recognised and got great service. In fact the woman that served us went to great lengths to dig out some super massive chocolate chunks out of the mint gelato and hand them over to us. They were super-sized! Such a nice treat to top of what was truly an amazing day.
Cagliari - it's not like anywhere else I have been. I don't feel like I'm in Italy. I don't really know where I am. We are staying in Poetto Beach, about 5 kilometres out of Cagliari. The area is poor. The street we are on looks like it may have boomed at some time, there are a lot of large houses and even some mansion like properties. Most of them are now empty and boarded up. The three star hotel, more like a bed and breakfast than an actual hotel, is the fanciest place for miles. It is neat and clean, and simple. It is across the road from the beach and the road outside has lanes dedicated to exercising and active wear. Wearing clothes seems to be over rated, most people wear not a lot and underwear and bathers appear to be interchangeable. It feels a little like we are stuck somewhere in the mid 1980's, speedos, reef oil, high vis and g-string bathers. People roller skating and riding in next to nothing up and down, back and forth over the same strip. Not that there is anything wrong with showing flesh, though you can’t help but smile as some near naked people ride or roll past you intent on checking themselves out rather than keeping an eye on what’s in front of the. Needless to say, this can result in near misses and the occasional collision.
In the town of Cagliari, there is a strong undercurrent of dodginess. It's hard to put your finger on it, but it feels like people walking past are shonky, dodgy, underworldy types. It's hard to know if you are going to get pick pocketed or kidnapped. It feels that every second person is probably doing an underhand deal of some sort. A couple staying in our hotel went to park their car at the designated parking. It was full. They were then directed into a free space by a man in the car park. The next day they were walking past the car park and noticed that their car wasn’t there. They went back to the hotel, the concierge managed to find the car in just two very quick phone calls. They then had to catch a taxi to get the car, pay the fine and then make their way back to Poetto Beach, all up an expensive afternoon out and one can’t help but wonder, how much of a cut of the fine the concierge made.
I learned that Cagliari is the birth capital of the renowned large organised crime syndicate, known as Camorra or Gamurra. Murra is the Sardinian name given to a form of the game ‘scissor, paper, stone’ that is played religiously all over the island - it even has its own league between villages. In the late 1970’s, early 80’s, kidnappings, murders and all manner of criminal activities were rife. Perhaps the vibe of Cagliari is reminiscent of this.
Nothing seems to go together. Everything is a mishmash of things thrown in. It may be a result of feeling a little bit Spanish, a little bit Italian. It may be that the poor-ness of the area has resulted in a messed up hybrid of weirdness. Even some of the meals are haphazard, at a Mexican restaurant one night, my grilled beef and vegetable fajita came out with the beef and vegetable fajita mix in the middle of the plate, with some rice on one portion of the plate, a pile of Mexican beans next to it, a scoop of guacamole next to that, a scoop of chilli/tomatoey sauce, a segment of lettuce, a portion of tomatoes and then corn chips placed all around the edge off the plate, circling the segmented foods. It was like a tapas of Mexican food all on the one plate, and several foods that wouldn’t normally be part of a fajita dish. It is difficult to describe it well, it really is a case of you have to see it/experience it all to believe it and feel it. But the Mexican meal is a good analogy of most things that we saw and experienced in Cagliari.
All of this is not to say that we didn’t have an amazing time, we did. This is no doubt buoyed by the fact that we tend to see the good stuff naturally, and when you are on holidays, things need to be pretty shit to not be able to have a good time.
Cagliari is like Miami Vice starring Marlon Brando, combined with Underbelly and with incredible coastline views and a picturesque oceanic playground.
Friday morning came to us early, we got up at 4.15, to be in our taxis for just after 4.30. Our taxi driver drove as though he fancied himself as a race car driver, not a rare thing in Italy, but sometimes it was easier to just close your eyes and think safe thoughts. Our check in was rather painful, with the checking of the bikes in just being a lengthy process. One thing is for sure, the Italians simply do not like to rush anything, apart from when they are being a race car driver. Eventually we boarded the plane, and the flight to Verona was quick and uneventful. While we were at Verona airport waiting for the bags, Tanya pointed out a billboard advertising that it was opera season at the Arena di Verona and that it would be worth seeing if there was something on that we could go and see. I agreed wholeheartedly. Before long we were on our mini bus pick up driving to where we were staying in Pescheria, one of the many delightful small towns overlooking the massive Lake Garda. Garda is Italy’s largest lake; it is nearly 52 kilometres long and 17 kilometres wide. To ride around the whole lake is approximately 160 kilometres.
While we were waiting for our rooms, we went to the hotel buffet for some late breakfast as our morning had been fairly dismal on the food front and I got busy on the internet researching what was on at the arena. I learned that it was opening night for Carmen. I tried to contain my excitement while I checked who was interested in going to see it. Surprisingly everyone said they were keen. Once we were settled into our rooms we all assessed the day ahead and Tanya, Ange and I headed off to the tourist office to purchase tickets for the opera that night. The rest of the day was spent chilling out, Tanya and I opted for vitamin D topping up and hung by the pool relaxing. It was a lovely 34 degree day and we felt very holiday-ey to be chilling out poolside.
Even though Carmen was not scheduled to start until 9 p.m. we wanted to get in for when the gates opened at 7 given that we had bought unreserved seating, we wanted to give ourselves the best chance of getting a good spot on the stone steps. Stone steps, I was so excited that we had bought tickets to sit on the stone steps. It just enhanced the authenticity of seeing a show at the arena! Thanks to a train strike (!!), we were unable to catch the train in to Verona, the hotel booked a taxi for us to take us to and from Verona. We left the hotel at just after 6 and we were on the way to the arena! I was so excited, this was going to be a momentous experience!
We got to the arena, I had seen the outside of the arena when we were in Verona in 2013, but this was going to be the first time inside! The arena is a Roman amphitheatre that was built in AD 30. It is not the pink and white limestone building it originally was due to a massive earthquake in 1117, what stands now is what is left. With some modern enhancements, e.g. plumbed toilets.
Finally we were in, we made our way quickly to our designated area of stone steps and were fortunate enough to snag ourselves some prime stone step real estate. We were bang on in the centre – just brilliant. Now we had two hours until the start. Now remember it was a warm day, 34 degrees and sitting on the steps just after 7pm, it was still over 30, all very nice and I love a good warm day, however, so does stone. And those beautiful authentic stone steps had spent all day absorbing that lovely warmth. Add to that the warmth of being packed in like sardines, before long we were pretty much swimming in our own sweat. It was veerrryyy sticky! AND we were very thirsty. We waved down a food vendor person and asked for water, turns out they weren’t selling water, just tonic water, I still don’t fully comprehend this, but I was desperate, so it was tonic waters all round! We watched the arena fill up and down in the posh seats the posh people in their posh clothes rolled in on the red carpet. It was amazing, and some of the dresses were beautiful. I was ever so glad to not be all dressed up in sauna heat of the arena though. After much people watching, the show was underway. And here is when I run out of adequate adjectives. There are not enough words to fully share the experience and do it any justice. It was incredible. And little things, like real horses and donkey’s on stage. Carmen goes for 4 hours, so we were in for a late night. After the second act, Paul decided it was time to head home, I expected that some of the others might join him but they didn’t. So it was a late night, but oh so worth it. It was worth the warm discomfort and the pools of sweat, rehydrating (?) on tonic water, it was beyond incredible. It will be a forever memory that I will revisit in my mind on many occasions.
Saturday – So after getting to bed after 2 the night before, and up at 7 for breakfast and an organised early ride, I wasn’t really feeling the love for the idea of a long mountainous ride. Of course my FOMO is strong and as we rode out, I battled my I don’t want to feelings against my but I will miss out feelings. Ultimately the thought of being the slow fat kid on a super hilly ride with my skinny mountain goat mates got the better of me and at the 10 kilometre point I bailed, I said my goodbyes and headed in a homewardish direction. I had seen a sign pointing to Lezise, and we had been there in 2013 so I rode to Lezise, and touristed around. Took photos of the lake and people watched and then rode back to the hotel.
I caught up with with Ange and Doug for lunch (Doug had not ridden that day due to hurting his knee in Sardinia a few days back). We caught up with Nicola, who runs the hotel that we were staing at. Enjoy Garda, and talked to him about the dire situation of no internet in our apartments. He lent us his plug in modem to rectify the situation. And the the rest of the day was a chilled out take it easy kind of day. The “cyclist” got home and had themselves a well-deserved late lunch and regaled stories of their adventures of the day. Which included Paul blowing the rim on one of his wheels while descending. Thankfully he stayed upright and safe and got home unscathed. Dinner was a fun evening of great food and lovely banter while we all ‘helped’ Glas come up with ideas to celebrate his 50th later in the year. I am not sure that he was won over on any of the suggestions.
Sunday – there was an organised ‘flat easy’ride. Our guide for the day was Andreas, he had taken the guys on their ride yesterday too. The ride was not flat. It was Italian flat, over 1500 metres of climbing. And some very gnarly descents. We rode through a beautiful chestnut forest. It was gorgeous, the going uphill for the entirety of it not so gorgeous, but the scenery was delightful. One of the highlights of the ride was encountering a beach buggy parade as we got to the bottom of a hill. We all stopped and took a few photos, Glas was overjoyed, he thought all his Christmases had come at once, he loves them! Soon after we stopped for coffee and a snack and I had what was truly the most amazing Nutella tart that has ever existed. It just melted in my mouth. It was homemade and truly delightful. Andreas knew the recipe and told us what it was, he may or may not have mentioned butter more than once. Back on the bikes and we left the coffee shop straight into a hill climb and we climbed and we climbed and we climbed (flat easy ride, flat easy ride, flat easy ride, kept replaying in my head, flat easy ride), At the top we regrouped and Andreas gave us a briefing of what to expect on the descent, on the down there were some breathtaking views, but when the descent got too steep, all I could see was the road in front of me. As we came down and out on the main road, the beach buggy parade went past again, double brilliant for Glas and more photos to be had! Soon we stopped at a town called Castellano at a little pub/bar/café/shop that is very welcoming of cyclists. We refuelled and took some photos of the beauty of the place and then headed for home. Initially we were rolling through, team time trialling toward home, as by now it was pretty much mostly flat, which meant I could actually keep up. We got home with about 95 kilomtres of not easy flat riding, but still a very good day.
Later in the afternoon after a dip in the pool and refuelling with some good lunch, Paul and I walked into town with Tan and Glas to explore the village. We checked out the shops, moseyed around and then found some seats at a bar overlooking the centre of the town and ordered four aperol spritzes, while we people watched and talked and planned and laughed and then had a second round aperol spritzes. Finally we headed back to the hotel to find Doug and Ange and of course to eat dinner.
Monday was an epic ride to a winery day! Nicola had told us when we got there that he wanted to take us on hilly ride to a winery. Seemed like a reasonable suggestion. The 65kms to get to the winery was hilly (I feel very repetitive when talking about the rides in Italy), it may or may not have been an entirely pleasant ride, but there were some stunning narrow windy laneways (that were apparently actually roads) and beautiful countryside to ooh and aahh at. We stopped at a church on the way (at the top of a hill of course) and had a look at the gorgeous architecture, took some fun photos on a love seat at a look out and then continued on in search for more hills to climb. Another stop for coffee and toilets along the way and then we arrived at the winery, Tenuta Santa Maria Valverde, we were greeted by one of the winery owners; she welcomed us as if we were much cherished family that she had not seen for a while. We felt so welcome and at ease. She was going to seat us outside for lunch but it was a bit breezy so she took us into the big bar/kitchen inside area. All old stone and so perfect. We sat at a big long table, like you always see in good romantic Italian movies, and she disappeared and returned with a tray of 3 different locally made cheeses and some homemade salami. She explained the cheeses and in which order to eat them. She opened a bottle of red and told us a bit about it and poured us all a glass. More dishes were slowly brought to the table, a fig dip, a spicy sweet chutney dip, a bowl of polenta, some bread, more wine, eventually we were done, then out came some sweet biscuits and the promise of coffee while her husband, Nicola (same name, different man), gave us a tour of the winery, the drying room and the cellar. The simple fact that the cellar was 500 years old and had been in the family the entire time is a magnificent piece of information that is hard for us Australians to fully comprehend.
Coffee was served outside overlooking the resplendent valley, being a non-coffee drinker, I again decided ‘When in Rome’ (or anywhere in Italy as the case may be), and I said yes to an espresso. More surprisingly, when Nicola told us that the custom is to swill the espresso cup out with grappa and drink that, I initially said ahh no, but after some cajolement from Tanya, I relented and went the grappa. And even more surprisingly again, I followed it all up with yet another espresso. Needless to say, I was somewhat amped for the ride home. That’s a hell of a lot of caffeine to deal with! Thankfully the ride home was short, a simple 25 kilometres. And mostly downhill and flat.
Every Monday while on holidays, we were meeting up late afternoon to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones, Glas had an account that enabled him to watch it on the internet and we would all get together in one on the rooms and stayed gripped to the TV for the 40-50 minutes. This Monday was no exception, particularly with it being the final episode of the season. We were particularly committed given that a lot of the scenes had been filmed for this season in Girona, so we felt more attached and familiar with it. The plan was to watch it in our resting/recovery time late afternoon before dinner. But there were some technical glitches and Glas couldn’t get it to play. We were pretty much beside ourselves with the stress of not seeing it. Eventually we gave it away. While the rest of us headed off back to the hotel, Glas stuck at trying to sort the problem out. After dinner he told us it was all good to go, so it was with much relief that we went to Tanya and Glas’s room to watch it. Well the buffering was insanely slow and it must have taken us nearly two hours to watch a 50 minute episode, but we are endurance athletes and we saw it through to the end. Of course, it meant another late night, and we got to bed after midnight. The things that we do for a Game of Thrones episode!
Tuesday morning dawned and along with it the ride plan of riding up Monte Baldo. Note, Monte means mountain. Mountain means hilly. I rode up this mountain three years ago, I am not sure why I thought it was a good idea to do it again. It must be akin to forgetting the pain of childbirth as you only remember all the wonderful things that come from it.
To ride to the base of the mountain would have made for a very long day, Nicola was driving us support vehicle to feed us and give and take clothing from us as needed, so Tanya, Ange and I got a lift with him. We dropped Angela off at her designated point for her crazy long mountain walk that she had planned and she had organised with Nicola where she would find him again after lunch to get a lift home. Nicola then drove Tanya and I to the base of the mountain, we got our bikes out, helmets and shoes on, the boys had ridden from the hotel and arrived just as we were getting on our bike. We headed off and started climbing.
The next 24 kilometres of relentless climbing was the near death of me. I have never known 24 kilometres to take so long. I slowly wound my way up, while the mountain goats danced away in front of me. I could have cried, it was so long and so arduous and I cannot believe that I had forgotten this tortuous pain. One of the ride guides, Micheala, waited for me and spoke to me in his lovely Italian accent and basically just wooed me up the mountain, occasionally he put his hand on my back and gave me a gentle push, and when I would ask him not to, he stopped. He lied to me time and time again, it’s just a little further, the next bit is flat. At the top I said to him, you lied to me, and he said I am a man and Italian, I cannot help it. I smiled, I couldn’t not. Besides it was preferable to crying.
We re-grouped at the top for group photos and some stayed for coffee, Paul and I kept on going, we took a wrong turn, which was the longer and hillier way, totally deliberate on my behalf, I felt that I need more hills, we all ended up in the same spot at the same time which was kind of miraculous and had nothing whatsoever to do with good management.
The descending down the other side of Monte Baldo, was beautiful, I regret that I did not have a camera attached to my bike, it was picturesquely, incredibly, beautifully amazing. It smelt like pure crisp mountain air and looked like something out of the Sound of Music. The ride home from the base of the mountain was at a solid base and pretty much finished us off for the day.
After a quick change of clothes, grabbed some refuelling food from the buffet and dip in the pool, it was late afternoon. Nicola had arranged for us to go on a boat trip around the Pescheria, so that we could see the town from the water. We walked down to the boat at 5ish and had a lovely 40 minutes cruising the lake. It was our last evening in Pesheria and we sat at our favourite table outside the restaurant area, our new friend Dirk joined us for dinner. After dinner Tanya and I had a digestive that we wanted to try having been sucked in by some smooth talking Italian add that we had seen, Averna, it was okay. We sat in the bar chatting for a while over after dinner drinks before all heading our separate ways.
Wednesday morning was our last chance this holiday to ride in Italy. An easy ride was on the cards, just to spin the legs out. Paul opted to stay behind and get his bike packed and the rest of us headed to Borghetto. A small beautiful town, a fortified dam and old ruins. We stopped a café and had coffee and cake and or gelato, and then rode back to town, finishing the week of riding with an easy 30 kilometres and stunning scenery. Ange had hired a bike to go for a few rides and she joined us for this one, so it was good to have her come along with us.
After getting back and packing my bike, Paul and I showered and then walked into the village, there were a few things that we had seen when we were wondering around on Sunday and decided we needed to make a few quick purchases.
All of a sudden it was time for Paul and I to leave, the holiday with the remainder of the lycra family was coming to an end. We said our goodbyes, I even gave a few two armed hugs, it goes with the coffee drinking. So much change! And then our driver took us to Malpensa. We got there with ample time to be on the safe side, given that it can be a bit unnerving travelling with bikes, but of course, we were in Italy, and check in was not open. And then our flight was delayed, so no point in opening up check in just because there are a large group of people wanting to check in and fly to Birmingham. One woman was prepared and had a glass and bottle of wine and dealt with the leaning around in a quasi-queue by sipping her wine. Finally we got through, took our bike bags to over-sized luggage. We tried not to get bent out of shape about the way the luggage handler carelessly through our bags, that are clearly labelled Fragile, Handle with Care. Once through customs we made our way to find food, and our last Italian supper, pizza, aperol spritz and beer.
Thanks to the delay, our flight that was meant to leave at 8.20 pm., we finally took off at 10.20. This was quite stressful as we had booked a hire car for our arrival in Birmingham and the hire desk was supposedly closing at midnight. Thankfully we had forgotten that there is an hours’ time difference, Italy to the UK and we landed at 10.30 in Birmingham, not 11.30.
Getting the hire car was an adventure in itself, what with the desk having been relocated to the far side of the airport, down a path, past some bushes through a car park, etc, etc, etc. So with all our luggage, and slight uphill very very long walk, in weather that was drizzling with rain and much much cooler than we had experienced in over a month, we finally got to the Budget car hire office. After some time, and some gifted apples from chilli from the Budget car guy, we were loaded up and following the GPS to Chris and Paul’s in Sutton Coldfield. We arrived just before midnight. As usual with Chris and Paul, nothing is ever too much trouble and they were not at all put out by our late arrival and greeted us warmly. We chatted for a while catching up briefly, before heading off to bed, looking forward to the UK chapter of our holiday.
Getting to bed after 1 a.m. meant we needed a bit of a sleep in on our first morning in the UK. Eventually we got up and headed downstairs. Being June, it is technically summer in the UK, but last night when we arrived it was cool (bordering on a bit cold) and drizzling, no surprises really, it was like that the very first summer I arrived in England. Chris and Paul had put the central heating on during the night, I’m not sure if they normally would have bothered or if it was just because we had commented (complained) about the cold when we got in the night before. Nonetheless the house was lovely and warm and we sat in the kitchen over papers and breakfast. The strawberries in the UK are incredible, and I had a delicious breakfast of Weetabix, strawberries and banana. Before long, Paul’s cousin Kate arrived, with her 3 year old Sebastian. Chris looks after Sebastian some mornings. Sebastian was a little shy consequently very quiet. Paul B commented that we should come more often if that’s all it takes to keep him quiet. It was short lived and Sebastian realised that we weren’t that scary after all and soon found his voice. It was really lovely sitting and talking and just catching up with Chris and Paul. And I am confident that we could have easily spent the whole day doing just that. Instead we decided to give Chris and Paul space to get on with their day and stick to our plan to head into Birmingham. We walked down to the train station and jumped on the train for a couple of hours of shopping, wondering, mooching the Bullring. Our day resulted in some purchases. The Bullring is always a great place to go shopping and I love buying summer stuff knowing that come our summer in a few months I will have some lovely new clothes. We had a non-peak train ticket so we headed back to the train station before 4 and headed back to Sutton Coldfield. We got off the train and straight into Sutton, as we needed to find some gels and bike nutrition for the Cyclo Sportif we had entered in Bridgnorth, Shropshire on Sunday coming. As we walked into the shopping mall, I made a quick detour to the public toilets and then we headed to a sports shop that Paul had spied while he was waiting for me. No bike nutrition was to be found, and the sales assistant didn’t know what gels were, but she suggested that we try Halfords, which we had already thought would be the place to try. As we left the sports shop, down through the mall and turned right, Paul received a tap on the shoulder by a security guard saying ‘Excuse me Sir, can you please wait a moment’. We were a bit like rabbits in headlights, going huh, what is going on here. He asked us to come back over to the bench in the mall and take a seat, Paul was then questioned by another security guard and a community policeman. We were then detained by security and advised that the police were on their way. When we questioned why we were being detained we got told that the police would explain and that they were just waiting for the stills from a cctv camera. Paul said to them that without further explanation he didn’t understand why he should have to stay. I explained to the community police that we had just flown in and landed and midnight last night, I showed him our plane tickets on my phone. For a moment there was a glimmer of sensible thought that perhaps Paul wasn’t a criminal after all, but he squashed that thought down. He then asked Paul for his details, address etc. When Paul said Perth, he questioned Scotland? Which was quite hilarious, because neither of us sound the slightest bit Scottish. When Paul said Australia, he practically snorted a ‘yeah right’, until he realised Paul wasn’t lying. After about 45 minutes the police turned up. They walked straight up to us, one of them came up close and took one look at Paul, another look at the piece of paper in his hand, and said sarcastically, “oh yeah, it’s definitely him”, turned to the other policeman and muttered something along the lines of “ffs, bloody hell”, showed us the photo and said to Paul, “yeah maybe if you were 4 stone heavier”. The similarity was an Adidas jacket. Paul was wearing a black Adidas jacket, which is what the guy stealing stuff from WH Smith was wearing. They had a few terse words with the community policeman and the security guards and were then very apologetic to us. They were very embarrassed and were so nice to us, they even gave us a lift to Halfords, which took longer than us walking there, but they were trying to make up for the bumbling embarrassing stuff up by the security guards whose power had gone to their heads. I have to say, it is terribly embarrassing sitting on a park bench in the middle of the mall, with everyone who walks past looking at you and speculating what you might have done.
When we finally made it home, we told Chris and Paul where we had been. At first they didn’t believe us and thought we were just making up stories, when I showed Chris the photos, she was horrified. But now that it was over and we hadn’t actually been arrested or finger printed, it was now just another of those funny things that happen on holidays.
When we got home, Sebastian was no longer there, but another grandchild was there, Benji the black Labrador. Chris and Paul’s son Matt was away for a couple of nights so they were furkid sitting.
That night we went for dinner at The Station Pub, located right next to the train station. We walked down there and found a table, just before 8, just in time to place an order as they were just closing the kitchen. Our table was outside and after dinner and a drink, we relocated to a warmer table inside. Grabbed some more drinks and talked the night away. As is the holiday way, it was another late night, which is really just an indication that you are having a fabulous time.
Friday morning was another sleep in day, these late nights and late mornings were going to make going back to super early mornings a bit of a challenge. After a lazy breakfast and chilled out morning, we got on our bikes and headed out for a cruisy ride around the outback of Sutton Coldfield. The countryside was beautiful and the traffic very friendly and obliging. When we got back we had a small lunch and Chris told us that she had arranged for some of the relatives to come over that evening for nibblies and catch up. Chris and Paul said that they were going to head to the shops to get supplies for the evening. We offered to come along to help, but they said they were happy to go without us. We said that we would take Benji for a walk to the park. Benji and I had clicked and had taken quite a liking to each other. Chris did warn us that Benji wasn’t leash trained and he might be difficult. Given that he was a very good dog, we decided to take our chances and headed off. He wasn’t a delight to walk with, he is quite big and very strong, but I managed and we all made it to the park unscathed. Once I left him off the leash, he took off, he ran and ran like a crazy dog. He was really good and came back every time I called him. We played chasey and pretty much wore him out. At one stage I turned my back, only to turn back and find him rolling in shit. Yay. Looks like I would be giving Benji a bath when we got home. The walk home was less of a challenge as he was quite tired from all of his frantic running around. Washing him was fun, and cold, so after Benji’s bath I headed upstairs for a shower to warm up and so I would smell nicer for catching up with the rellies.
Chris and Paul cooked an early dinner for the four of us, and we solved more matters of the world with the help of a lovely bottle of rose. Chris then put out a massive spread of nibbles for the evening and the Paul’s did a drink run from the drinks fridge down in the garage and got the esky all sorted upstairs. Soon they started arriving and we had a lovely evening with some of the cousins, grandkids, aunts and uncles. Uncle George was there, it’s always such a treat to see Uncle George, he is a gorgeous man, always keen for a whiskey and tells us about his latest bet. When Uncle George and Auntie Eva came to stay with us in 1999, we learned that if you offer George a drink of whiskey, he looks thoughtful as if he is really thinking about it and then says 'Go on then', its much better hearing it in his accent rather than just words on a page. But ever since then if we are offered a drink we quite often look thoughtful, pause and then say Go on then. Just not with a lovely lilting accent! Of course being Euro Cup time of year, George's latest bet was on the (soccer) football, and we had that playing in the background while we talked and laughed, told stories and played with the kids. Paul and I were leaving early the next morning to go into Birmingham for a group ride, so we bailed before the hard core rellies had left and got to bed just before midnight.
Saturday morning we got up early, tiptoed downstairs for breakfast and then jumped in our hire car to drive into Birmingham for the group ride. If we were confident of where it was starting from we would have ridden in for it, but not being totally confident of all the details we felt that we needed the security of a car and GPS. We found the meeting spot and realised then that it was almost the same place as where Paul had ridden from when were there in 2009. It was a chilli summer morning and we shivered on the sidewalk waiting for the group to finish forming and then head off. It was a tough ride, bang on straight from the start, people started dropping off in the first few kilometres. It was incredible. It was frantic, and the only thing that kept me going was the fact that if I got dropped I would have no idea where I was. So I turned myself inside out to stay with them. At some stage we caught the very very fast group. Eventually on some draggy hill I got spat and Paul stayed with me to get me back onto the group. Thankfully a giveway at a roundabout enabled us to get back onto the group and before long we were riding through Lickey Hills, aptly named as we started going up a lovely long hill, one of the locals told me to not smash myself as there was a regroup at the top, so I got on the wheel of someone and made my way slowly, but as quickly as I could to the top. Regroup meant that all the boys disappeared into the bushes for a ‘nature’ break, being the only female there, I crossed my legs and decided to wait for something less nature-y. After the regroup the smash fest continued, the group got split into two, and we made it back into Birmingham unscathed, in my case, exhausted, and torn inside out– into Birmingham for a bunch ride. After four weeks of steady hills rides where the focus had been on getting up long hills, I hadn’t really don’t anything related to speed in a long time, I was hungry and tired after that ride!
We drove back to Chris and Paul’s and spent time saying goodbye to Uncle George (who had stayed the night before). It’s always sad saying goodbye.
Thankfully, we didn’t have any real plans for the rest of the day and a good portion of it was spent curled up on the couch with a rug, a book, T.V. and conversations. The mornings ride took it out of me more than I had anticipated, I was exhausted. In between being lazy, we got all our washing done and packed all our stuff for our early morning departure.
That night the four of us went for dinner, at a nearby restaurant, The Lakehouse. So many gorgeous views, there are so many postcard picture opportunities in Sutton Coldfield. Dinner and drinks on our last evening with Chris and Paul was fabulous. It was so good, we continued once we got home. Because we had to leave early the next morning for a cycling event in Shropshire, we couldn’t stay up talking all night, eventually we had to say our goodbyes and head to bed. I always love staying with Chris and Paul, I feel so welcome, from the very first time I met them in 2009, they make me feel totally at ease and include me like I am family.
While we were in Italy we had registered to do a Cyclo Sportif in Shropshire for today. Our destination – Bridgnorth – was about an hours drive from Chris and Paul’s place. Because the event was scheduled to start at 9.30 a.m., it meant that we didn’t have to worry about a stupid early morning. With all our gear and the car packed the day before, it made for a chilled morning, we tiptoed downstairs just after 6, had breakfast, and raided the cookie jar for snacks for during the ride and left by about 7. Bridgnorth, according to the GPS was about an hour away. We arrived nice and early, found a car park and headed over to registration to get numbers. As it transpired, my online registration hadn’t gone through, I was still able to register and pay the additional late fee, but as I was still feeling yesterday’s ride the thought of 160 kilometres had little appeal today. To add to that, the organisation of the event was a little all over the place and rather than having an actual big send off from the main street as advertised. We learned that they had been sending people off in dribs and drabs as they registered. Not ideal for a long hard ride. I especially didn’t fancy riding solo. Paul offered to ride it with me; I declined and opted for a day of being a tourist in Bridgnorth. Which, as it turned out, was the best decision ever. I had an incredible day. But before I could get on with my incredible day, we needed to get Paul on his bike and to the ‘start’ line. We went back to the car, set up the bike, Paul got changed and we loaded his pockets with nutrition for the 160 kilometres. I walked back to the start line and cheered him off as he rode off in a paltry group. Afterwards when I got his race report, he confirmed, that it was indeed paltry and he dropped them all pretty early into the ride. He ended up doing most of the 160kms solo. Good training, if nothing else.
I had my little backpack stocked with water and money and I headed off to explore Bridgnorth. I found a map on the wall near the public toilets (handy) that showed me that the town was made up of six panels, each panel summarises noteworthy events, buildings and personalities from Bridgnorth’s history. It also said that more information was available at the Visitor Centre. The Visitor Centre was closed. I headed off in the direction of the Castle Walk. Anything that promises a castle, and I’m in! I hadn’t even started the Castle Walk and I was already slowing down to peer in windows and take photos of signs and streets. At the start of the walk, there was a short railway line going down a hill on a very steep angle. There was a man in overalls at the top, yelling down to another overall clad man. When they finished yelling, I asked him what they were doing. He advised that they were doing maintenance. Of what I asked. He then realised I was not a local and explained to me that it was a cliff rail. It turns out that in the late 1800’s a town meeting was held to work out an alternative method of communication between the two parts of Bridgnorth, High Town and Low Town. A proposal to build a cliff railway was put forward. It was built in 1891, as a funicular railway, fancy talk for saying that it was pulled up on a rope powered by water and gravity. This was replaced in the early 1940’s with electricity. In the mid-fifties the heavy wooden carriages were replace with stronger and lighter aluminium monocoque ones. These are the carriages that are still in use today.
After learning all about the cliff rail, I moved on,only about 5 steps before a guy leaning on the fence watching the rail said to me, “well you’re not a local are ye?”, I stopped for a lengthy chat while he told me that he wasn’t a local either and that he lives up past Dudley. He comes to Bridgnorth most weekends to visit friends. He also told me that I HAD to go to the Crooked House, where marbles can roll uphill. He gave me directions, which went along the lines of you go straight out the main road, and just keep on going, turn left and then you keep on going, and you keep on going, over a hill and keep on going, keep on going. After about the 15th keep on going, I actually had no idea what he was talking about. But I made a note of the Crooked House in case I can get there one day. I detangled myself from the conversation and set out on the Castle Walk. The Castle Walk, is around what was once the grounds of the Bridgnorth Castle. It is in the High Town, overlooking the Low Town and the Severn River. The views from the wall of the walk are incredibly breathtaking. I was so happy being able to take as long as I liked internally oohing and ahhing at the views and reading all the tourist information signs. The walk took me to a St Mary's Church, where I was happy to see that a smart town planner had designed the garden so that the park benches were located to give the sitter the most incredible views of the Low Town. I was in love with the smallest things, such as old men in hats reading newspapers on park benches, it was quite apt for the setting. I moved on, poked my head in the church, fingers crossed that lightning wouldn’t strike and then went on and found the old cemetery behind the church. I love old cemeteries, and stopped to read some of the headstones, those that were still legible and then followed the path on into the castle gardens and the castle itself. The castle was built during the time of Henry II. In 1646 during the Civil War there was a successful siege of the castle and the orders were to demolish it and the ruins that still stand are what are left. The gardens are beautiful and so well established. With cute touches like some bushes in the shape of an aeroplane and a ship. While I was wandering the gardens, I started to hear some in the music from a distance. I stopped and leant over the wall and I could see the Railway Station, I had read earlier that on Sundays there are markets at the railway. The music drew me in and I knew that I had to go over there. I left the gardens and found some stairs to take me down away from the High Town. Of course, it goes without saying but the steps were old, and beautiful and romantic and completely fitted in with the perfectness of my day so far.
I reached the bridge that took me over to the station. As I walked into the station I noticed that people were dressed differently to me. The first man I saw looked a bit ‘olden days’, then I saw two men talking on a bench, they also looked olden days, I walked down along the platform and around to the ticket booth and there were a group of women, all looking very olden days. Suddenly I started to wonder if I had slipped into a time portal. I looked at everyone around me and then looked down at my denim mini skirt, and Adidas jacket and thought, oh wow, what is going on. As it turns out, unfortunately I hadn’t slipped into a time portal, I found a sign that said it was a ‘Step into the 1940’s day’, complete with Big Band singers and a steam engine. They were all catching the train along the line for a couple of hours, with all sorts of entertainment along the way. I was speechless, this was so perfect and oh how I wished I had an actual camera with me rather than just my phone to take photos. Not that that stopped me, I took loads! Eventually the train left and I traipsed through the markets, taking some video footage of the singer, he was brilliant, and some more snaps of people dressed 1940’s style. Finally it was time to go back across the bridge, through the time portal and back into the current day. Besides, I still had plenty of exploring to do!
Coming over the bridge put me down in the Low Town, so I headed that way, walking alongside the Severn River. I went to the Cliff Rail to see if I could catch a ride, it wasn’t open until 12.00 p.m., so I earmarked that for later and continued walking across the Low Town bridge and along the river. I watched two parent swans with their baby swans, and a naughty duck that kept trying to dive bomb them. The grown up swans were very protective. Some geese came down the river and looked every bit like they were out of a fairy tale. I walked back along the river and found another one of the panels, Lavington’s Hole. Which is pretty much from what you can see a hole in a hill. What you can’t see is that it is the entrance to a 70 foot tunnel, it was Colonel Lavington’s idea and it was dug in the aim of getting to where the enemies gunpowder was stored under St Mary’s Church and to blow it all up to stop the attacks on the town.
I had about 45 minutes to kill before the rail opened so I continued finding great stairs and beautiful walks to go on.I made my way to the High Town via a new set of stairs in the Castle Hill and came across a little house that was the old library! It took all my restraint to not knock on the door and ask if I could have a look inside! I made do with photos from the outside and I took time out to sit on the gorgeous bench in the church grounds andf just watch the world and read my book. It was so peaceful. I headed back down some different amazing beautiful stairs back to the Low Town to go and catch the Cliff Rail. I got there at 11.55 and there was a queue! I got my ticket and jumped in the carriage, everyone that was in the queue fit in the carriage and then we were going up the hill. I think it was all over in less than two minutes. But I was super glad that I did it. It was all part of the Bridgnorth experience.
By now my hunger was extreme, I had eyed off earlier in the day what I wanted for lunch, which meant a walk back to the main street in the High Town, near the start line of the cycling. There were lots of food markets set up and I went for a crusty roll filled with succulent roast pork, sage and onion stuffing with gravy and a side serve of crackling. Probably not the most nutritious choice, but it looked and smelled amazing. I had to have it. I bought my lunch and walked back around to the castle gardens, I didn’t take the Castle Walk this time, I went through the streets of town so I could see different parts of town. I went and nabbed the best bench in the garden to eat my lunch, watch the views and read my book, and check out the gardens for a little lunch break. It was so lovely.
I anticipated that Paul would be back not long after 2, so I decided that whatever I did next needed to be close to the main street so that I could cheer him across the finish line. Bridgnorth continued to give and I found a little museum. Donation entry fee, and as usual I was generous with my coins. I had to wake up the attendant from his afternoon nap. When he found out where I was from he proceeded to tell me how much he didn’t like Perth. At which stage I was trying to figure out how I could take my money back. I told him that Perth is really awesome and maybe he hadn’t seen the right things. Needless to say we didn’t really warm to each other. I checked out all the old stuff, none of which was really that interesting. And then I made my way back to the finish line to wait for Paul.
Paul was in about 25 minutes later than my estimation, which had everything to do with doing the ride solo. We got him some lunch, the pork roll as recommended by me, and made our way back to the car. Change of clothes, packed the car, reset the GPS and headed off to Ilmington to meet Gary and Vikki’s new pub.
Paul’s Uncle Gary and partner Vikki run The Red Lion pub in Ilmington. They only took it over in November last year, so this was going to be all new to us. The drive to Ilmington from Bridgnorth was about a 90 minute drive. Which gave Paul and I time to talk about our day. I told him that he had really missed out by doing the ride, and he told me that I had really missed out by not doing the ride! I filled Paul in on all the wonders of Bridgnorth and he gave me his race report.
The great thing about driving places you have never been to before is that the time passes very quickly, there is always plenty going on. Questioning the GPS’s accuracy, and beautiful country whizzing by as you drive to your unknown destination. Soon we were entering the village of Ilmington. We pulled up out the front of The Red Lion, at about 4 p.m. - we struggled to get a park, which was a great indication that things were going well at the pub.
We walked in and Gary was serving behind the bar, when he finished with his customer he turned and started asking what I would like then saw it was us and shouted, ‘Sweetie!!!’, big hugs all round and rushed introductions to whoever was in the pub at the time, including Diesel, a massive farm dog asleep on the floor.
Dealing with Gary is done at a pace that you need to be prepared for. He is 1000 miles an hour, like a cyclone Peter Pan with ADHD, he is funny and caring and sweet and loving, and easily distracted. I love that he is easily distracted and I love that he stays true to who he is; he hasn’t curtailed his personality to fit in with any of society’s rules. In a flurry of what do you want to drink, you must come out to the beer garden and yelling “Vik, Vik”, we were bundled out to the beer garden, drinks thrust in hand and were meeting more locals all in the space of a nano-second. Being mindful of the pace at which a day with Gary can go, I ordered a soda water to start with. Paul having done 160kms and being somewhat dehydrated, opted for a beer. Some people. After my second soda water and Paul’s second beer, I asked Gary if he could show us our room so we could get our stuff out of the car, and Paul could shower. I feared the afternoon was going to quickly turn to night without us doing anything sensible. Once we had settled in upstairs, I left Paul to shower and I went back down the garden. By this stage Gary insisted that I needed to have more than soda water and a bottle of bubbles with some glasses appeared.
Given that Gary is a musician, there is always a guitar. And where there is one musician, invariably there is another, and there is always, everywhere you go, several wannabe musicians. By the time Paul joined us, Gary was on the guitar singing, people were dancing, Vikki and I were catching up on things and stuff. The guitar got handed around. Some played better than others. People were making up song lines. And the bottle of bubbles appeared to be endless.
About 8 p.m., John and Margaret arrived, they had flown in from their Russian trip and landed in Birmingham that afternoon. More hugs, as Margaret had met many of the locals when she was there last year helping Gary and Vikki set the pub up. Soon we were practically passing out from hunger and Vikki produced a pub menu, we made our choices and she disappeared into the kitchen and made dinner for the family. Gary and Vikki’s house is upstairs of the pub. So John, Marg, Gary, Paul and I headed upstairs, Gary opened a bottle of red, and Vikki came bearing hotdogs and chips. After dinner, and leaving the bottle of red mostly to Paul and Gary, we went back downstairs to where the music and laughter was loud.
A great chunk of the crowd had gone by now, being sensible people on a Sunday night. Some hard-core, who cares if it’s a school night people stayed on. And we made some great new friends. And we sang and we danced and we talked and we laughed. The music choices varied with the people selecting the songs. A few people fancied themselves as pop/rock stars. New drinks were tried. After all, The Red Lion does specialise in being a gin pub and you can’t insult your host. All thoughts of soda water were lost in the distant sun of the afternoon long gone. Somewhere along the way, the night got dark and it soon became Monday morning. We tripped up the stairs as Gary locked the door on the last of the stragglers leaving and we fell into bed for some much needed sleep by about 2 a.m
Of course it is no surprise that we slept in a bit on Monday morning and when we woke up we were a tad dusty. Water was much needed. It was a very slow morning. Gary takes Jack (Gary and Vikki’s dog) for a walk every morning, and Paul came into the bedroom to let me know I was about to miss an opportunity to go for walk. That got me out of bed and I got dressed as quickly as I could. Raced downstairs, out through the kitchen and found John, Gary and Jack waiting for us. We ventured off while Jack raced ahead. Gary took us on a welcome to the village tour, we went down a laneway and through a field, he showed us the church and where the who’s who lived, pointed out the hills that we might like to ride up, said hello to some locals who were out, showed us the community shop and gave us a brief overview of Ilmington. Ilmington is 8 miles south of Stratford-upon-Avon and nearly 6 kilometres north-west of Shipston-on-Stour. It is in the Cotswolds and is the highest village in Warwickshire, giving a great view of the entire Cotswolds. It has two pubs, a school, a church and a community shop/post office.
While we were out walking Vikki was onto dealing with the plight of multiple hangovers and had been busy cooking up bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomato, beans and toast. It was a very welcome meal and we all hoed in with much appreciation. Marg had also been busy while we were out walking and had everyone’s washing sorted and on the go. After breakfast she shooed us from the kitchen so she could clean up. Gary was keen to take us for a drive to show us further afield Ilmington. So John, Paul and I went out with Gary for a drive. Gary's driving is like anything else Gary does, erractic, excitable, fun (if you half close your eyes) and at times terrifying. I was in the passenger seat in the front and gripped the seat several times, only to have him say, “it’s okay sweetie”. But really how did he know it was okay, half the time he wasn’t actually looking at the road in front of him. As he was driving he was enthusiastically pointing things out behind him in the opposite direction. And of course the roads there are so so narrow. Seriously, laneway narrow. Coming from a country of wide open spaces and wide open roads, I find the narrow roads just a tad terrifying. And with all the bends in the road, you don’t know what is around the next corner; two cars cannot fit side by side on most of the roads we travelled on! It was all beautiful though and we stopped at the top of a hill, dodging heaps of walkers who were exploring the area, just out of the village to breath it all in and take some photos. Apart from his erratic driving, Gary is a fabulous tour guide because of how passionate he is about everything. And he believes that he lives in the best place in the world. It’s easy to see why, it is truly stunning.
After we got home (in one piece), Paul and I showered and headed off to Alcester. We had a lunch date with Gillian (Gary’s ex-wife) and Amy (Gary’s daughter) and Noah, Amy’s little boy. We hadn’t seen them since we were last in the UK in 2013, I was looking forward to catching up with them. When we got there Noah greeted us with a kiss and hug, which was super lovely as the last time we met him he was a baby. And then Gillian said they had thought that we would go for lunch at a pub just a bit down the road. We all jumped in Gillian’s car and she drove us to lunch.
We went to The Fish Inn in Wixford, a pub by the Arrow River, which is decorated with lots of loud, out there, in your face signs and photos, to inject a sense of fun into the dining experience. Above the front door was a statue of a shark with people’s legs in at mouth. Noah was a bit excited, a bit not so sure about entering. But he was cool about it and being Gary’s grandson, he operates at a similar speed, and he moved on from any nervousness as quickly as he had got there. We didn’t have a booking, but we were able to get a table straight away, which was pretty fortunate as it was quite full. We ordered our lunch and drinks (soda water for me), and settled into catching up, talking, gossiping, just generally enjoying each other’s company.
Lunch arrived, and there was no menu envy from anyone, always a good thing to have ordered the right meal. Before long Noah was getting restless, he had done so well, through bribery of going to the park if he was a good boy. But he didn’t have the patience to wait for us all to finish eating so Amy grabbed her glass of wine and took him out to the park, on the other side of the car park. I’m pretty sure that we wouldn’t be allowed to do that in Perth, our liquor licence rules are incredibly strict and walking across a car park with a glass would be a big no-no. Gillian, Paul and I stayed at the table for a while longer before heading across to the park to join Amy and Noah. There were geese in the river, a sandpit for Noah to get filthy in, and then Paul and Noah played on the obstacles in the park. Time flies when you have good company and soon it was time to head home. We saw out the rest of the afternoon chatting, and playing Noah’s Restaurant where we all got fed a lot of imaginary food. Finally it was time to say our farewells, and talked about when we might next catch up, and which country that might happen in.
We drove back to Ilmington, ready to go to Gin Club with Margaret! The first Monday of every month they have a gin club. John the gin rep for the area brings in new gins and they have a tasting of different gins, straight. Vikki puts on nibbles and the group then votes on which gin they like the best and that is then the gin of the month behind the bar for the next month. We also tried some different tonic waters, they were really interesting and there were several different infused tonics that we have never seen before. After Gin Club, we had a quiet evening sitting in the bar chatting with Marg and Gary and some of the locals. It was a nice night and we made it to bed before midnight, which was a welcome change.
Tuesday morning was another lazy start, the accumulation of late nights were making us a little tired, that combined with being on holidays, making it much easier to justify a sleep in. We had a late breakfast and then went out for an easy ride. We rode to Stratford-upon-Avon. I stopped at the Royal Shakespeare Company to see what was playing and saw that A Midsummers Night Dream was playing. We rode around the town, then headed back a slightly different way to check out more of the area. After our ride we decided to go out for lunch. We ended up in Shipston-on-Stour exploring the town, which included a sneaky drink at a pub that we were doing some spying work in for Gary and Vikki. Eventually, as is the norm, we were soon staaarving, so we went and found somewhere to have lunch.
We chose the George Town House. The building was beautiful, and it had a lunch menu, so that ticked the right boxes. Our waitress was lovely, she loved that we were from Perth and talked about the time she had been there. I ordered the carrot and coriander soup and Paul ordered a chicken dish. We decided to share a cheese board, because cheeses in the UK are beautiful. Well the cheese board came out and it was massive. We gave it our best go and we couldn’t finish it. There was a LOT of cheese. Turns out the chef was feeling extra generous. The cheeses were delightful. During lunch I asked Paul if he wanted to go to Midsummer Night that night. He kind of said yeah sure. I explained that I was more than happy to go by myself, as I didn’t want him going under duress and suffering through it. I did also point out that it is one of the best plays for a non Shakespearian person to see. After we had finished in Shipston, we drove back to Stratford to get tickets for the play that night. Lucky that we did, they were nearly sold out, there was only one option left for two seats together!
We pretty much had time to head back to Ilmington, change into some theatre appropriate clothes and leave again. Parking in Stratford seems to always be a bit of a pain in the arse. I’m not sure if it actually is or if that’s just because we don’t really know the town very well. After a couple of laps near the theatre we ended up parking quite some distance away. Which really wasn’t an issue as it gave us another opportunity to look at Stratford. It struck me that the town really is very commercial, which at first I thought, oh that’s a shame, but then I figured, well why not. It makes a lot of sense. We made our way into the theatre and I purchased a program, of course. Our seats were fabulous, fifth row, centre stage, brilliant brilliant brilliant!
The performance was electric. The actors were faultless and of course that theatre! It was so bright and powerful and exciting. The character of Puck was played magically. The set and the set changes were magnificent. All in all it made for an incredibly memorable evening. At intermission, we went out to the bar where we bought two very expensive classes of sparkling wine and we were most impressed to see that we could walk outside with our glasses! We were able to wander down to the banks of the Avon, or across to the park, all while holding our glasses. Thanks to our liquor licencing act in Perth, we would never be able to do such a thing. It was great, and we didn’t get glassed, even though people were just walking around with glasses! It was actually too cold to take advantage of being outside, so we headed back in and checked out the inside of the theatre before going back in for Act II. We did have the added bonus of a woman a couple of seats up from us critiquing the play. It was mildly irritating, but I turned my filter up and tuned her and her (incorrect) comments out. All good things have to come to an end and soon it was curtain call time. The packed theatre was loudly enthusiastic in their appreciation of the play. It was just so good.
We walked back to the car park, now it wasn’t so awesome being parked so far away, where we paid a very hefty parking fee to exit the car park. We got back to the pub and it was a relatively quiet night, being a Tuesday, but definitely not as quiet as I would have thought. We chatted in the bar for a while before calling it a night.
Wednesday dawned, our second last day. I was dragging my feet getting started with my day, trying to somehow prolong the painful inevitable end of our holiday. I really didn’t want to face the reality of packing, driving, flying. So I dealt with it by going into denial mode. I stayed in bed and read my book for a while. Then traipsed out to the lounge to watch a documentary on TV about a young girl who was aiming to win the National Irish Dancing competition. It followed her training, her competitors training and all she went through in the lead up the final competition. It was actually really very interesting. So I stayed on the couch hanging with Paul and Jack, ate some coco pops and eventually we decided to go for a ride. We didn’t leave home until after 11. We headed out on a new route that we had worked out talking to Gary and checking out maps. It was a good ride and we came home with just under 50kms, our least slack ride for a couple of days. When we got back Gary and Vikki were busy as a group of touring riders had called in for lunch. Vikki was flat out in the kitchen making meals that had been ordered, and Gary was serving behind the bar, which was also busy, but Vikki needed Gary to serve the meals to the tables. I opted for helping out, and took on the waitressing duty of serving lunch out to the beer garden. In my cycling kit. Pretty sure it was a first, being served by someone in cycling lycra, but no-one complained, and given they were all busy touring around on bikes it seemed suitable. After we had showered we loitered around upstairs watching the tennis on TV. Gary checked to see if we wanted any lunch – which of course we did, we headed down to the bar and selected something from the bar menu and Vikki made us all a late lunch once the pub crowd had quietened back down. There was a busy night ahead, the local cricket team had reserved to arrive at 8 and Vikki had to sort their nibble plates, as well as get organised for a 3 year old birthday party that was coming in at 5, additionally Wales were playing Portugal in the Euro Cup semi’s and now that England were out of the running all of the poms had apparently turned Welsh, which meant that the pub would be full, to top it off Andy Murray was in the semi final of tennis. Late in the afternoon Vikki realised she was low on some ingredients for the cricket sandwiches, Paul and I did a rescue ingredient dash to Shipston. As the evening wore on and the bar got busier, Vikki was running ragged, I popped into the kitchen to see if she needed anything, the dishes were piling up so I got my hands wet and washed and dried the mountains of dishes. It freed Vikki up to get on top of everything and get out of the kitchen. In between sharpening my dormant hospitality skills, I watched some tennis upstairs, (Murray won) and soccer down in the bar, chatted with people and just hung out. The crowds dwindled once the soccer was over (Wales lost) and just a few stayed until closing time. I was getting on remarkably well with soda water for the evening, Paul was trying a few new beers (being our last night in the pub) and once the bar was quiet, Gary and Paul thought a few rums or scotches or something were in order. The late stayers were all in good spirits and we had a fun time talking a lot of nonsense. Soon it was closing time and Gary saw them out the door, then Gary, Vikki, Paul and I sat around the bar and we talked and talked and talked. Lowbrow, highbrow, deep, intense, the hours got eaten up and the holiday was disappearing, somewhere after 2 a.m. we conceded to the call of sleep and headed upstairs.
Thursday came with the last sleep in of the holiday. I was glad that we were flying out late; we still had a full day of stuff that we could fit in! We got up at 8 and had some breakfast; I had Vikki’s coco pops, and hung out in the lounge room while we eased into the day. Gary came in to let us know he was going to take Jack for a walk. Paul and I had decided not to ride, so I raced off to get my walking clothes on. I wasn’t going to miss a last morning of a walk around this beautiful village. So we headed off, because it was just the two of us, it meant that we could go at a faster pace. Unfortunately because there were no responsible adults with us, it meant that we were easily distracted. As we were walking in one direction, Gary would grab my arm and yell, no lets go left and so we would go left. We had to stop every so often (a lot) for me to take photo after photo. One of the great things about England is the freedom to roam. Basically there is a right that grants people access to the wilderness, this means that much of the land, moors, common land, mountains, including private farmland, are available to walk through - there are gates or stiles so that you can access the land and just keep on walking. It’s truly fabulous and made me understand why there are so many walkers in the country areas of England. And I got what was so attractive about it too, you get to see so much more and you feel so free. So we totally took full advantage of our rights to access the wilderness and walked, uphill, down dale, through fields, over stiles and past sheep and cows. Gary at one stage announced ‘I truly live in the best place in the world’, and I had to agree with him, it was magnificent. We got side tracked as we headed down new paths, and over creeks and through a quarry. At one stage we encountered a massive nettle bush and we were too far in to extract ourselves. I had short shorts on, Gary took his jumper off and gallantly gave it to me to wrap around my legs, and we fought our way through the bush and collected some war wounds from it. They were insignificant though weighed up against the wondrous morning that we were having. A couple of times through the morning I reminded Gary that it was Vikki’s day off and we needed to head back to the pub so that he could get to work. But we were naughty and it took us nearly two hours before we got home. While we were gone Paul had done a sterling job of packing our bikes and Vikki had got started in the pub in preparation for the day. Vikki is an incredibly giving person and she accepts Gary as a whole including some of his less responsible actions like us being gone for too long. So she was okay with it all and once she was comfortable that everything was under control she headed upstairs to get ready for her day off. She had planned to take Paul and me out for lunch for our last day.
The sharp pain of reality was starting to dig in and I knew that I needed to get on with the packing. I went upstairs and sulked about having to pack - while trying to rationalise all our stuff into our luggage limit. Thankfully Marg had said that she would have luggage room to spare and that we could leave it in her room and she would pack when she came back to Gary and Vikki’s later that afternoon. I organised everything and left as much as I dared on Marg’s bed.
John and Marg arrived at the pub just after 12, (earlier than we anticipated) so we added them to the lunch outing and Vikki drove us all to a Garden Centre that she swore that we would totally love. It was the Stratford Garden Centre. Turns out it was a little bit more than a garden centre. It is a garden centre with a homeware section, outdoor furniture, a gift/card/wrapping paper section, a restaurant and out the back a shopping courtyard. A one-stop shop for spending money. We browsed on the way through to the restaurant. Lunch was lovely, I did have a touch of menu envy on some of the other meals, my chicken skewer was quite literally one skewer. But it was lovely. After lunch and a bit of a to-do over who was paying, Vikki insisted she was, John said he was, I told Vikki she wasn’t, she got all bossy, so I got up and went over to the till, she followed me and tried to stop me with threats like ‘I will lick your face’, I told the waiter that I was paying and to ignore her as she was mentally deranged and we had let her out for the day under supervision. My tactic worked as we giggled like school girls, which went with our behaviour. After lunch we went and explored the centre. I needed to buy a card and wrapping paper for a present that we had bought for Chris and Paul and while I was looking at cards I found a bag I really liked. A travel bag, I liked the shape, I liked the pattern and I decided it needed to come home with me. So I bought it. We checked out the homeware section and saw some really lovely stuff; we then headed out to the shopping courtyard. With five minutes, first shop, I found a pair of silver sneakers that I liked. I had spent all holidays trying to find some bling sneakers that I not only liked but were also comfortable. And there they were! And reasonably priced too! I broke Marg’s shopping heart when I bought them as she really liked them as well, and they were the last ones left in our size. I think it will be a while before she forgives me for that.
On the drive back to Ilmington I mentioned that I still hadn’t gone to have a look at the local church. Vikki mentioned that there are mice carved into the wood in the church that you have to find. She said that she would come with me because she still hadn’t actually been in there herself. When we got home, John and Marg went upstairs to pack all their stuff in preparation for their trip to Chris and Paul’s. While they were packing Vikki and I went for a walk down the beautiful laneways to the church. Robert Thompson was a British furniture maker and is known for his mouse signature. Little mice carved into his work. All the church woodwork was replaced in the 1930s and the sign in the church said that there were 11 mice to find. I have to tell you, finding little wooden mice is actually not as easy as you may think. It took us a while but we eventually found all 11. The church itself is a pretty little church and there is a small cemetery in the church yard.
Back at the pub John and Marg were all packed and it was time to say our goodbyes. We had a “family” photo out the front of the pub and waved them off. It was getting sad now, it would be time for us to leave soon too!
Gary and I sat out the front for a little bit talking about things to come, Vikki came out and joined us and we just sat in the cool sun enjoying the company, the time and the afternoon. Paul was MIA and I suspected that he was probably upstairs watching the tennis. With his eyes closed. The mood was heading toward sombre - I was reluctant to say goodbye to my holiday. And I was totally in love with being in the Cotswolds. But all good things must come to an end. I headed upstairs to rouse Paul from his tennis watching/napping and we went and packed the car. All that was left to do was drive to the airport. I put my happy face on and we went down to the bar to have a goodbye drink with some new friends who had come in to say farewell. It was a bittersweet afternoon.
Our drive to the airport was thankfully uneventful, about 8 minutes into the drive, the direction in which we were headed did not feel right. Not one to normally argue with the GPS, I tend to leave that to Paul, I decided to check it, and lucky I did, we had put the wrong postcode in! A near miss of what could have been a disaster. Within minutes we were headed in the right direction. We had left with more than enough time to spare, which gave us room up our sleeve for missing the turn off to the hire car carpark and having to do another lap into and out of the airport. But soon we were in the queue to check in for our long flight home.
In an unplanned turn of events, but with an opportunity to catch up with my Mum who is holidaying in France and to see my brother who lives there, I have decided to take 8 days off work and pop to Paree.
Flying out a Tuesday night meant I could squeeze in two full days of work at the start of the week, race home Tuesday night to pack (last minute packing, always guaranteed to not pack all the right things!) and dinner with Paul on the way to the airport and then he has dropped me off and I am sitting in the Qantas club with a glass of sparkling wine to prepare for the long journey ahead.
I hate having to board a whole 40 odd minutes prior to take off, the suspense game of who will be sitting next to me, do I have everything I need? Kindle - check, noise cancelling headphones (borrowed from a friend, thanks Toggs) - check, water bottle - check, phone - check. Good to go, hurry up hurry up and I really really hope I get the seats to myself. 30 minutes in and it's looking good for some space to try and get some sleep between Perth and Dubai. Soon I hear, "Cabin crew arm doors and cross check" and halleluiah I have a row of 3 seats to myself!!
We take off. Interestingly they are serving dinner, on a flight leaving at 10.30 p.m., I decline, as do most around me and just ask for more water. I always ask for more water. They never give me enough. It seems okay to ask for endless coffee but apparently one little tub of water should be all you need. I am grateful that at some stage during the flight when I return to my seat, the nice flight attendant has returned and left me 3 tubs of water and a little pack of cheese and biscuits. He was the nicest flight attendant on the whole trip.
The 11 hours is long and I read books and watch movies and eventually sleep with the added benefit of being able to lie across the 3 seats. Eventually I am in Dubai and making my way as quickly as I can through the airport. I want quality time in the lounge, as due to the Terminal I am leaving from, I am able to use the Business Club lounge. I head straight to the showers, have a much needed shower, change of clothes and then off to find a seat in the lounge and have some breakfast. The 3 hours goes fairly quickly and soon I am boarding to head to Paris.
This time, the plane is packed and I have a window seat and feel very cramped. Three hours into my 7 hour flight and I am needing to move around. Unfortunately the couple next to me are both asleep. I fight the feeling trapped panic and try and focus on watching a movie. Finally I get to move around a bit and then psych myself to get back into my cramped space up against the window. I am so tired, and would love to sleep but it’s too crowded. Book, movie, book, movie. Fidget fidget. Finally we are on the descent into Paree!
I make my way through passport control, then there is a technical glitch with the luggage and conveyor belt so I wait forever and a day for my luggage and then finally I am on my way out. Mum and Joseph are there to meet, family! I feel the humidity and 36 degree heat slap me in the face, and I embrace it after having spent the last 6 weeks in Perth whingeing about rain, cold and dark mornings. We catch to metro into Paris and walk to Joseph’s apartment that he has kindly vacated so that Mum and I can stay there. Due to the tiny space available, Mum and Joseph head downstairs to a bar below the apartment so that I have room to shower and change and then I head down to join them. We make the most of the air conditioning in the bar and chat and work out the what now plan. Joseph heads off to catch with his girlfriend leaving Mum and I to go for a wonder. We walk around, giving me the chance to get my bearings and nut out a loose plan of things to see and do.
Later we meet up again and the three of us head for dinner. We wonder a little bit aimlessly looking for the right place to go. I am verging on snapping at the lack of direction, mostly fuelled by no decent food for 24 hours and not a lot of sleep. Mum tunes into the fact that I have tuned out and wisely suggests a pizza place. We settle into a salad and shared pizzas with a very cold glass of wine. After dinner we head off down the street (which appears to be interchangeable between a footpath and road) and as we go past a bar, Mum comments on it as she had been there before during her holiday. Joseph knows everyone in hospitality it would seem and the people working there are more of his friends. We go into the bar called The Little Red Door. What a fun funky little place! And the menu was so great. It was a hard cover fairy tale looking book with little lift up tabs to show the drinks underneath. I was smitten. And wanted a copy. As it turns out, they do sell them, for €75 – eek - no thank you! But, I managed to come home with one, thanks to Joseph and his friendships in all the right places!
We had a couple of drinks, though I only ordered one, but it would seem that when you hang with hospitality people they can be very hospitable. It was a fund night, but soon my I have been awake for too long was taking hold and it was time to head home. We farewelled Joseph and made our way up to the tiny little room generously called an apartment. Mum and I worked out the sleeping arrangements, that is, which side of the bed do you want. Opened the window (now known as the air-conditioning), and settled in. It was after 11pm and we had a bike tour booked for the morning, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow!
With no time for jet lag, and driven by some internal clock that alerts me to when it is 5 a.m., I wake up in tiny Parisian apartment, well before I need to. But I am in Paris! I grab my phone to message home and check in life back at the ranch. Before long Mum and I are up and about and we have a bike tour booked for 10 am. We are well ahead of schedule and set off to go and visit Notre Dame. And then to Saint Michel where we walk through the streets of the Latin Quarter and Mum shows me some places she has been to and things she has learned. We then find ourselves a Boulangerie to grab a Parisian breakfast. I opt for a water and pain au chocolat (of course) and Mum has a Pain au raisin. Even though I don’t drink juice, I am somehow convinced to buy a freshly squeezed little cup of orange juice and Mum get a coffee and a juice. We sit ourselves in the outdoor eating area and ease into the morning (having already walked several kilometres and been awake well before most of Paris.
We get to the meeting place for our Hidden Secrets of Paris bike tour, well before the 9.45 meet time and make the most of the water splashing off the fountain, Paris is in for another 36 degree day and it is already very warm. It’s a different heat, high in humidity and oppressive due to the heat trapped in the roads and buildings and the busy busy crowdedness of the streets. Soon we meet our tour guide, Martina from Blue Fox Tours, the group is assembled and we walk for 5 minutes to where we pick up the bikes. The bikes are typical townie bikes, with no gears, all the bikes have different names (so that you know which one is yours after each stop), I get Mona Lisa and Mum gets Esmarelda. Martina asks us all to take our bikes for a ride around the big underground parking area we are in to make sure they are all road worthy. After bikes are selected and everyone is ready, we go back up to the daylight to get started. It will be a fun day. Apparently the tour is about 11 kilometres and will take about 4 hours, so not fast at all, and lots of stops for looking and learning. We get on the bikes and are headed off by about 10.20 and it’s a fun and somewhat scary experience. The group is quite varied and for some reason doesn’t click well. There are two kids, one about 9 and one about 13. The rule is that the youngest of the group rides behind the tour leader. We are single file and riding on the narrow busy streets of the Latin Quarter and surrounding districts. There are a couple of people with some terrible bike handling ability and the 9 year old is a little out of his depth and the 13 yo is desperately trying to show us how good he is and how fast he can go. There are several near misses but nobody got hurt (I don’t think).
Our first stop is a book shop, The Shakespeare and Company bookshop. Oh how cool. I love this place. It is small and layered and overflowing with books and Aggie the cat and a room where you can earn a place to sleep if you stack books and read a book a day and write a paper on the books you read. It was fabulous. We didn’t get time to look at it properly, so Mum and I went back after our tour finished to have a mosey around the shop. It was soooo good.
We continue on our way and see some of the less touristy touristy attractions while learning some fascinating local history of the Latin Quarter and La Marais district. We see Paris’ oldest café, a section of the original wall that used to surround all of Paris that is still standing, a café that houses Napoleon’s heart, a Roman arena, we learn about the famous street art and different notable street artists, the Jewish Quarter and the Wall of the Righteous that has names of all the people who risked their lives to save Jews in France during the Second World War. At our lunch stop Mum and I find a boulangerie that has the best baquette, we see the world famous falafel shop and much more! It was a fun way to learn more of our surroundings.
After our bike tour, we went back to saviour the book shop, where I bought a few books, but not as many as I would have liked! And then wound our way through the streets to make our way back to the apartment. Of course we looked in shops, seeking out air conditioning, and managed to find a shoe shop where we both walked away with some new shoes. In addition to our cruisy 11 kilometres on bikes we had walked about 12 kilometres as well. My feet had decided that today was the day to start blistering, and they were also swelling up. Something that only ever happens to me when I am away from home. We get home about 4 and stop at the bar downstairs for a well earned beer break (and air con) and work on our plan for the evening ahead, as we have tickets to the 9pm show at Moulin Rouge, and we need to stop looking like daggy tourists and make ourselves look respectable, and find somewhere for dinner. The night ahead is going to be a lot of fun!
We shower, we wash hair, do hair and frock up a little to look less like grubby foreigners and more like respectable grown-ups on an evening out. With sore feet and tired legs from an already massive day, we shelve our plan of walking and taking the metro and walking again, and instead decide to take an uber. In half the time and triple the cost of the metro (well worth every euro), we are dropped off out the front of Moulin Rouge. It is early enough so that we have the luxury of relaxing and taking our time.
We head off foraging for a restaurant to eat. The first half a dozen are not looking vegetarian friendly and we are both bordering on hangry. As we are standing out the front of one called La Mascotte, reading the menu, a very “I am meant to look Parisian and artistic” waiter comes over and saves the day. Despite his curled up moustache, he convinces us that he can make sure that they will make some vegetarian options available, regardless of what the menu says, and with the promise of food and wine so close, we follow him to our table.
And we name him Pierre.
Pierre brings us menus, he tells us that we do not need them in English as we should be able to manage with French, if we get stuck he will help us out. He goes through the vegetarian options for Mum.
Pierre comes through with the goods, we have to pay for our dinner, inasmuch as we get to listen to Pierre tells us ALL his thoughts and reflections on life, how he is not a philosopher but he gives us his philosophical outlook on most things. He is very entertaining, and fond of himself, and I am sad that I didn’t manage to get a photo of him to complete the picture. I order the Tuna Nicoise salad and Pierre gets a vegetarian version made up for Mum, he chooses which wine he thinks we will like and then brings us some amazing bread with some locally made butter infused with seaweed. Good butter!
Dinner and the wine are amazing and Pierre brings us the dessert menu, at first we say no, but then decide to share the crêpe flamed in Grand Marnier. Being the swell guy that he is he tells us that he made a bit extra so that we could have two each instead of sharing three. He also puts them on separate plates for us, which is great. As are the crêpes. Bloody amazing!
We pay our bill and tip Pierre and then walk down to Moulin Rouge. Through security chack and in we go. The place is packed, so many tables, I am pretty sure that many people pushed into that space would be a major safety concern in Australia. We are seated at a table that is central to the stage and at a good height. We are next to a French couple and then two American women join us. One of them, as she is sitting down says Hi I’m Melissa, we are going to be very close tonight for the next 90 minutes so we may as well get to know each other. We say hi, do introductions, I ask her where she is from, she says America, I say duh, but where. We all love and Mum and I have made some new great friends.
Our waiter brings us our champagne, he used to perform on Cirque de Soleil and has been to Perth and America so we have a chat. Then the lights dim and the show starts. Wow wow wow. Cheesy, tacky, slick, fun and so good. The individual specialist acts are stand outs, the roller skating duo where beyond description and so incredible, heart in your mouth performing. The contortionist was amazing and freaky, the underwater acrobat swimming with pythons was ahhh interesting. It was great fun. The show ends, lights go out and we are ushered out, there is another show on in 30 minutes, no loitering to be had. We tell our new friends, Melissa and Lindsey that we are going to the bar where my brother works and they join us. We get to Glass sand it is still quiet because it is so early (only 11pm) so we have time to talk to Joseph and he makes us drinks. After a while we head across the road to another bar, where Joseph’s girlfriend Maria works so that I can meet her. We are plied with more drinks. Melissa smartly asks for water and we down a couple of bottles. I take a liking to the menu, so in a crime of opportunity we appropriate one. And then Melissa and Lindsey call it a day and head home after we have exchanged contact details and promises to share houses if we ever come each others way.
Mum and I go back to Glass, we get to meet lots more friends. Maria finishes work and comes over to Glass to chat with us. Finally it is time for us to go home. The bar is very busy now. The DJ started work at 12. And the place is filling up. Maria kindly calls us an uber and Mum and I take our very exhausted bodies’ home. The end of my second day in Paris and I am going to bed at 3am at the start of my third day.
Friday morning and we wake up shattered from our mammoth day yesterday. Thanks to our very late to bed, the thought of sleeping in holds great appeal. However, thanks to the heat and noise of the street below, we aren’t successful. We are slow to get going though and slide right on into Parisian time. We finally leave the apartment and head for the Champs-Élysées. Due to the sore feetedness we metro it there to give our feet a little bit of a break.
It’s a hot day and avenue is busy. We head toward the Arc de Triomphe. On the way we stop in at the Renault store, just for fun, when you have a Renault at home, it kind of feels obligatory to do so.
Both Mum and I have only ever just swarmed at the bottom (the free bit) of the Arch. We buy our tickets and get in the queue, security checks and scan through and then we start climbing to the top. There are 284 steps (I googled that as I lost count on the way up). It was well worth all the steps. When you step out onto the top of the Arch, the views are breathtaking. You can see it all and it is simply magnificent. We stay up there for ages, wowing and taking photos. And then slowly we make our way back down, stopping to read and learn and watch the information videos on the way.
After leaving the Arch, we wander down the Avenue, window shopping and people watching. We stop for a baguette and water and then keep walking off to Galeries Lafayette – a fancy (very), big (massive) department store. It’s quite a long walk to Lafayette and the air conditioning is a welcomed treat. We aren’t there to shop, we are there for the spectacular architecture. There is a roof top terrace and the panoramic views from the top of the building are quite spectacular.
The art nouveau architecture showcases a very large dome on top dome and lighting. The top of the building has a very large dome, which from the outside is just a dome, the magic it creates in the centre of the building inside is nothing less than spectacular.
After Lafayette we browse some normal people priced shops, and then head to the metro to head back toward home, Le Marais district. We get there and are feeling a tad fatigued, somehow we have still managed to walk about 15 kms. Thanks to Mum wearing her fitbit, I spend the day constantly asking here how far we have travelled.
We chill out in our apartment for a while, discussing dinner options, we watch a storm come through and with the window open the heavy heavy rain was really refreshing. It was great to have made it home in time without getting drowned though!
We opt to try out a little restaurant next to the bar downstairs from the apartment. Classico Argentino. As is the norm, there is no air-con and now that the rain has stopped it is quite warm. We sit next an open window overlooking the street and suss out the menu. Empanadas seem to be the go and is mostly what the place is all about. Thankfully there are multiple vegetarian options. The empanadas come in fours, and you can chose whichever ones you want. We make our selection and eagerly await its delivery. Oh wow oh wow, man those empanadas! Soooo good. We share 4 vegetarian empanadas and a salad and watch the world. A hail storm with massive golf ball sized hail sweeps though and it is magnificent (if you are inside).
We wind up our dinner and head back upstairs to the apartment. We are both incredibly tired and after another very full day, with an early start tomorrow, we are, thankfully, in bed just after 9 p.m.
We need our rest, tomorrow we are heading out for a tour of the Champagne district!
We had booked a day trip to Champagne. The meeting point was just over a kilometre away from our apartment. We left early (to allow for getting lost and a possible coffee stop opportunity), we were due to be there by 715 (early for Parisian streets) and got there ahead of schedule. Before long everyone else who had booked arrived and introductions were made. It was a nice small group, just 7 of us – our tour companions were a family of 5 women from America, ranging from 17 – 70 and Mum and me. Our tour guide arrived and introduced himself, Guillaume, and we head off, get seated in our tour van and off to Champagne.
The group is very friendly and chatty, and that’s before the champagne! And the drive to Reims goes smoothly and quickly. Guillaume drives us to Reims’ Notre Dame cathedral and we get out, take photos as he tells us as bit about it and then points out where a few things are and that he will meet us back there in 40 minutes, we have time to wonder around have a look, get coffee (for all the coffee drinkers). The cathedral is amazing, they are kind of all the same, but this one is really very nice, complete with a gift shop (of course).
We coffee (water and a biscuit) stop in the park benches outside the cathedral and then regroup and head to our first Champagne house. As we drive to the Champagne house, Guillaume, tells us a bit about the grapes, the vineyards and the area. The first champagne house is called, Lequien et Fils. We meet Phillipe who is the owner of the house. Phillipe is lovely, so sweet and the efforts that he has gone to to learn English and to make sure that he can communicate with all the English speaking tourists is fabulous. There are some things that are difficult for him to explain in English, and Guillaume does a great translation job. The tour takes over 3 hours. We learn so much about the production of champagne, which I found super exciting. We got to taste the still wine at different stages, the 100% chardonnay, and then the still blended wine that goes on to eventually become champagne. We get to see the traditional method of riddling the champagne (manually turning a quarter turn a day, for all the bottles, by hand) and then the new riddling machine that takes away the manual labour component. We learn properly about removing the sediment, the degorging and corking process. It was awesome. And Phillipe gave us all as new cork, in its original shape before they get squished into the bottle.
After about 2 hours we head to the tasting room to taste the final product. Phillipe was incredibly generous with his tastings and pretty much gave us glasses for each champagne rather than small tastings. Phillipe opened four different champagnes for us to try and while we tasted, he told us the story of his parents how the business had developed and changed over the years. He told us about the champagne he was ageing to be released in 5 years for his daughters 18th birthday and showed us the bottle his daughter had chosen for the champagne. He taught us how to open the champagne bottle correctly and then with each bottle that he was opening, gave us a different person each time a bottle to open. I was quite successful in opening mine correctly (if I do say so myself).
Eventually it was time to go, it was the most fantastic and generous winery visit I have ever experienced, it was magnificent.
Back on the bus and we were headed to Epernay. In the town of Epernay, Guillaume dropped us in town for us to go and find lunch and explore for an hour. We kept it simple and ate at a Paul café, averagely sufficient. Interestingly while we were eating lunch there a bridal party came in (including the bride and groom) to buy, lunch? Don’t know. But that was weird.
After a quick walk around the town, and another cathedral, we regrouped and headed to Moet et Chandon. And yes the correct pronunciation is with a hard ET, not Moey. This champagne house is next level in impressive production. After all it is a worldwide name, there is a bottle of Moet sold every second throughout the world. That is a lot of champagne! Moet have reached a stage where they do not have enough grapes to maintain meeting demand. We are greeted by our tour guide at 2.30. Our guide was interesting, a combination of a bot and a stepford wife. Very programmed and the fakest (weirdest) smile. That aside, she told us some history and then took us down to the caves, two levels of caves, both levels spanning 28 kilometres. All filled with champagne. It was really amazing. It was nowhere near as interesting (and definitely not as personable) as the tour at Phillipe’s champagne house, but it was fabulous to experience. Everything that we learned at the previous tour was reinforced and added to at this one, and it made so much sense doing the houses in that order. Our bot guide was not programmed to answer some questions and it was funny to almost see sparks come out of her head as the computer dealt with the glitch. After the tour we were taken to the tasting room. Less tasting, more given a glass of their standard champagne. Interestingly, while they may be one of the biggest names in the industry and sell for a premium, there are much better tasting champagnes, and sparkling wines than that of the Moet et Chandon variety.
We left the Moet house after a walk through the obligatory and very sparkly and shiny gift shop and Guillaume drove us to the Abbey where Dom Pérignon worked and is buried. Dom Pérignon was a monk and cellar master. He pioneered a number of winemaking techniques around he was the first to blend grapes in such a way as to improve the quality of wines, He also introduced corks (instead of wood), and hence why Moet et Chandon have the black label Dom Pérignon champagne named in his honour.
When we got to the Abbey there was a wedding just leaving the church, and as it is a tourist spot, several tourists were loitering waiting to go in. We loitered with them, and before long went aside. It was just a quick stop as it is a very small church and then we were headed back to Paris. The walk back to our apartment was painless (with my 3 bottles of champagne that I bought packed into our little bags).
Once we got back to our apartment, it was nearly 7pm. We freshened up and reviewed our dinner options and decided to head over to the Pigalle district for a vegetarian burger and then call into Glass to see Joseoh. We ubered off, found the vege burger restaurant, got average service and very very average food. We then walked to Glass at about 9.30 only to learn that Joseph still hadn’t started work. Greg gave us a drink which we nursed until Joseph got there about 10.30 and which point we hi’d and bye’d then ubered home about 11. A relatively early night by Paris standards, but we had started our day at 6.30, bed was beckoning as we were starting to eagerly anticipate the exciting plans for tomorrow!
We woke up a bit hungry and felt that today we needed a substantial breakfast. Mum suggested a café that she had been to before called Holy Moly, it is a Melbourne inspired café in Paris! Go figure. They even have vegemite on the menu. But not avocado. Avocado is not on a lot of menus in Paris, it is just too expensive. The café was nice, and the menu looked okay. The service was fine and food was just okay. But it did the trick and my poached eggs on slightly warmed not really toasted bread was fine. The iced tea was weird.
The morning was nice, the weather was cooler again, heading for a top of 28, and the walk to and from breakfast was a good way to start the day.
We headed back to our apartment for showers and prepping for the big afternoon ahead as we were lucky enough to have secured VIP tickets for the final stage of the Tour de France on the Champs-Élysées. We were very (and by very I mean very very) excited. We messaged Joseph to let him know what time we were heading into the avenue and he swung by the apartment en route and we all went in on the metro together.
We joined the queue, got security checked and scanned and arrived at the tent of fancy people by mid-afternoon. Catering was underway and we got a glass of champagne and checked out the food options. In an oversight we hadn’t actually eaten anything for lunch, so the oodles of food was of interest. It was however, all sweet things, a high tea of cakes and slices, pancakes and ice creams. None of it was of any interest, but we need to have a little something to get by.
Our street side location was brilliant, just past the finish line on the other side of the road. We had missed getting a table but the great thing about Europe is that their safety rules are a little less stringent than those here in Australia and we were able to jostle for fence side action while still holding champagne glasses in hand. Apparently as adults we can be trusted to not throw things on the road or at cyclists. It was so much fun being so close and soon it was time for the parade and then the riders to come through for their last 8 laps of the race.
The crowd was jolly and very excited. Everyone was cheering for someone different and the atmosphere was electric. We made friends with anyone next to us, always wise when they are bigger than you and you are knocking elbows and hips. And the afternoon passed by in a fun vibe. Joseph had some cycling specific questions which I was thrilled to be able to answer, it made a sweet change as he had spent the last couple of days answering all of my questions on Paris and hospitality in Paris. So I got to feel a bit knowledgeable in exchange.
It was exciting to watch the cycling, it was so good to see Geraint Thomas come away with the overall win, it was great to see the battle for the final stage win and to see Alexander Kristoff take it. It was brilliant to watch the media during the race but more so straight after. They really are vultures. They are extraordinary in the way they just pounce on in, for the best angle, the best shot, the first shot, the way that they ignore anyone trying to bring some order and structure to the whole affair, it was fascinating to witness it.
Our view of the podium was blocked by a large moveable set of steps that was rolled out for the journalists/photographers to climb up on en masse, which meant we could only then see the podium on the big screen directly in front of us. But it was getting late, we were getting quite hungry and we decided that it was time to get moving. We were meeting Joseph’s girlfriend, Maria, on the other side of town for dinner (later in the evening) but we thought it would be good to start heading in that direction. On the way out amongst the throng of people, a guy walking in front of me turned his head in response to something that was said, I recognised him straight away and forgot to think it and instead said, ‘Oh look, it’s Cadel Evans’, he turned around and we had a chat about Australia and dogs and things. He was really nice to talk to (as he has been on other occasions when I have fan-girled him), quiet and reserved, but nice and a great sport. We let him go (it would be rude not to) and we then started walking. I was under the impression that we weren’t walking very far, buuuuuttt, Mum and Joseph tricked me. So we walked many many streets toward our dinner destination.
All up we walked about six kilometres to dinner, which isn’t a huge amount compared to what we had walked over the last few days, but today I wasn’t loving it. Thankfully though we saw many amazing sites. We snuck up on the Louvre, that is, we were walking through a garden and I said this reminds me of where the Louvre is, and Joseph, smartie pants, said that one over there? And pointed at the Louvre. Well that was a fun time of people watching and photo opportunities. We went past a shop with my name on it, spelt a little wrong Chanon, and had a picture of a woman on a bike, cool enough to take a photo, we walked through a red light district (no photos), where the prostitutes were a great disappointment, they were underdressed and scruffy, and really didn’t look like street workers at all. They kind of looked like grumpy, badly dressed, ill-mannered women. They also looked a bit scary, which apparently they are by all accounts.
We got to our restaurant, Bonhomie, at about 8.15, we were a bit early, but the staff knew Joseph and they found us a table very quickly. Joseph got them to put his phone on charge so that he could message Maria and let her know that we were early. While we waited and read the menu, a glass of champagne pre dinner, welcome to the restaurant drink was given to us all. And we sipped and talked and read the menu. Before long Maria had arrived, food decisions were made and ordered and we spent a lovely evening eating some fantastic food and lovely wine.
After dinner, we were a little full, and it was time to walk some more. The blisters on my feet were not enthralled with the ongoing walking, but my co-walkers were kind and we adapted the pace. Joseph and Maria took us to a cocktail bar (of course), Le Syndicate, where they knew the staff (of course) and ordered us all a drink. Now the drinks were all a little strange. Joseph and Maria agreed that the drinks there are never great, so of course we asked why, well apparently the staff are nice. Which they were. Very. The drinks, not so much. So we didn’t drink them we just played with them, sipped each other’s to see if any of them were nice. They weren’t. As we were getting ready to leave a round of shots was delivered to the table. Family Shots, apparently. Needless to say the pot plants on the tables at Le Syndicate may be dying by now from alcohol poisoning. Better the plants than us.
It was after 11 by now (how dies that happen all the time!?) and we started to walk home, which wasn’t far, so they said. It was more than far enough. On the way home we saw some more badly dressed prostitutes and we went via a chemist as Maria had decided that there was a particular band aid that I had to have for my blisters.
Joseph and Maria walked us all the way home to our apartment, we said our goodbyes and farewelled Maria as we wouldn’t be seeing her again this trip and made our way up the stairs to another late night to bed. We were quite tired after a fun filled wonderful day.
A lazy start to the day. My body was protesting against another early morning and while it doesn’t happen often, I have learnt that sometimes it is worth listening to. I had “sitting at home” things I wanted to do, so it suited me, and I spent the morning, organising my many photos and getting some of my travel diary documented.
Mum was happy for a little bit of a lazy start but eventually she headed out for a walk to her “local” for a coffee and pain au raisin.
It was a nice way to start the day and as the morning wasn’t too warm, with the window open ‘our’ little apartment was quite comfortable. But this was our last day in Paris! Mum and I wanted to make the most of it and we had decided to get as many touristy things done as we could, so it was time to get moving. We thought that it would be a good day to finish Paris with a river cruise, so we started walking. I was well prepared, with lots of good band aids on all the blisters, socks and shoes and spare band aids in my bag.
We stopped early in our walking day at a cafe and bought a salad wrap to share, we didn’t need much just enough to get us through all the walking for the day as we had a plan for a cheese and wine snack at 6pm. On the day of our champagne tour our guide, Guillaume told us about and amazing cheese and wine bar in Bastille, it sounded amazing and the Trip Advisor reviews were outstanding. So really our whole day we were gearing ourselves to wine and cheese.
We touristed like a boss. We wanted to see as much of the ‘we are tourists” things (that we hadn’t already seen) as we could. We walked and we walked and we walked. We took photos of everything. We did a cruise on the River Seine, we went to the Louvre (again). We took photos of people taking photos of people in front of the Louvre. Where they were standing on a block with their hand up on nothing so that in the photo it would look like they had their hand on top of the Louvre. We saw a police chase on foot through the Louvre. We saw a couple of wedding parties having photos taken in the most random places - people just love getting married in Paris. We walked to the Eiffel Tower, only to visit, both Mum and I have done the tower before, so this was just a check in and say hi to the tour kind of visit. And to take lots and lots of photos of it of course!
After many hours of tiouristing and walking we started the journey toward home, well actually toward the cheese and wine bar, it was scheduled to open at 6 and we were ready for a cheese and wine break. On the walk back, we stopped at The Louvre (yet again) for an amenity stop, it was at this point that Mum suggested that we catch the metro for the rest of the journey, our tired feet and legs were getting more and more tired and we were pretty much done in. We did end up walking over 20 kilometres that day, so the tiredness was justified.
We got off the metro at Bastille and checked our map to find the wine and cheese bar. We got there at 6 and the door was open and the Open sign was in the window. Yay! Inside we were “greeted”, net, with a less than friendly look. We said hi, are you open, he said No. Okaaaayyy. So what time do you open. 6. I said, it is 6, he just looked at me, and then said we will be open in 10 minutes. We were dismissed. We sat out the front for a few minutes and then decided that the cheese and wine place could take a leap. We weren’t really interested in the unfriendly average service and felt that it probably wouldn’t lead to a great cheese experience. To top it off I had developed an itchy rash all over my legs. The first time Paul and I went to Paris in 2009, I got the same rash. It seems that I am allergic to Paris! We decided to go to Candelarie, the bar below our apartment. On the way we bumped into two of Joseph’s friends and stopped to have a chat with Emma and Whitney. Eventually we got to the bar, in the absence of a wine list, and not wanting anymore cocktails, we ordered a beer each and ordered the tortilla chips and salsa. And we were told that the Mexican was having a Columbian night so there were no tortilla chips and salsa orders being taken that night! Of course, right! So we had a beer.
While drinking our beer and chatting with Emma who had turned up at the bar, we messaged Joseph to say that we were going to go to La Mary Celeste for dinner, a bar around the corner, where of course another one of his friends works. Joseph said he would meet us there at 8.30.
As we were headed to London at the crack of dawn the next day, we went upstairs to our apartment, showered and packed all our gear and then went to La Mary Celeste. Being in with the in crowd has its advantages and when Diane saw us walk in, she made sure that within minutes we had prime seats at the bar. Wine list and menu were provided, negotiations with Diane on what could be made vegetarian. It was all tapas share plates and we got our order in. Joseph was not far behind and we then ordered a bottle of wine, added some additional food, including the two things that Joseph said were a must have (not for Mum as they weren’t V food) and the devilled eggs and fried duck hearts were ordered. The devilled eggs were pretty bloody amazing. I never knew that devilled eggs was a thing that could be raved about. But these ones are very rave-able. I was dubious on the diuck hearts and hesitant to try them, but I closed my eyes and gave it ago. Yep, they were pretty good!
In line with the ongoing theme of hanging at bars in Paris, Diane made us her signature cocktail to have and also gave us some tasters of others that she was making. And the bucket of bread that we were given was without a doubt the best bread ever. Ever ever. It was a lovely evening and a great way to finish a fabulous day and a nice end to my short time in Paris.
We said goodbye to Diane, and walked the 3 minutes back to our apartment. By this time all of the regular crew of Joseph’s friends were outside on the street. So I got to meet a few more friends and say hi and bye. It was already after 11 and so we kiss-kissed, left right, everyone and said goodbye, tole Joseph that we would see him at 5.1.5 in the morning so that we could go to the airport for our 7 o’clock flight to London.
Goodnnight Paris, thank you for such a brilliant couple of well packed days.
Tuesday morning and we were up nice and early, actually if we were at home, it would be a little bit of a sleep in, but now that we were on Paris time - 5 a.m. was very early! We got up, finalised packing and Joseph arrived and by 5.20 we were all downstairs waiting for a taxi.
The drive to the airport, the check in and boarding was all painless. Once we were in the air, Joseph settled straight to sleep, Mum read and rested and I, fighting fidgeting and restlessness grabbed Joseph’s book and settled into reading Sputnik Sweetheart. Of course, being only a 1 hour flight means I only got 3 chapters read and had to hand the book back. Next kindle purchase….
We hit the tarmac at Gatwick at 7.25 and spent forever in passport control. UK passport control is always such a delight. This experience was one of the least painful, got our luggage and headed to the train. Trained into London and while on the train Joseph looked for a café for a decent breakfast. At Victoria train station, we took out luggage to Left Luggage for a day as we couldn’t check into our hotel until 2 and had already read on the reviews that they wouldn’t take our luggage. Then we went in search of the café – No. 11 Pimlico Road.
The café had a great décor and was nice and bright. The menu, while seemingly extensive was okay and the service was interesting with a lot of attempted on selling with each menu item ordered. I opted for the Bircher muesli with fruit, which, much to my disdain was served with coconut yoghurt rather Greek yoghurt. I am really anti the everything coconut trend. But the yoghurt was artfully plated in one scoop not mixed in so I was able to work my way around it. And yes I do like actual coconut.
After breakfast we decided to go and say to reception at our hotel as it wasn’t far. We had seen a few atrocious reviews on the place pop up in the last two weeks and I was starting to dread our stay there. Suffice to say the woman on reception, Sonja, was quite unpleasant and barked at us that we could check in at 2.30 (that was after she finished barking at someone who she referred to as Lady, as in, what do you want me to do about it Lady, on the phone). We walked away with joy in our hearts at the anticipation of going back there later in the day.
We found our way back to the train station so as to have our bearings and then Joseph went his way and Mum and I headed to Oxford Street for a bit of window shopping and possible real shopping. Joseph had arranged to stay at a friend’s place and was waiting to hear from her and had a museum he wanted to go to while waiting. We heard from him later that he had booked into a hotel room instead and would see us later for dinner after he had had a much need sleep.
Mum and I spent quite a few hours in Oxford St, trying on a lot of clothes and bought a few. We also discovered that interestingly if you take the time at Marks and Spencer you can pick up someone okay stuff. Finally we jumped back on the tube to head go and check in at our exciting to go to accommodation. Picked up our luggage and dragged it around to our Hotel. Tophams Hotel (don’t stay there is my tip).
We went through an exhausting and painful check in (with a new unpleasant woman) and finally got to our room. Not amazing, but it did have air conditioning. A shower and a refresh and we were back out the door, we didn’t need to spend any additional time in the hotel. We wanted to do a reccy of public transport to get the Palace Theatre in Soho as we had a show on the next day. We walked to bus stop Q and caught the number 38 to Soho. Checked out the theatre and then went to the Coach and Horses pub nearby where we were planning on booking for dinner for tomorrow night as all reviews had pointed us to this pub for the best vegetarian pub food in London. We went for a drink and vibe check. The vibe wasn’t in our face immediately, but we stayed and had a drink.
After a while a woman asked if her and her friend could use the spare chairs at our table and so we had some local company. Some conversation took place and another friend of theirs joined us and before long it was apparent that we were sitting with a veeerrryyyy interesting party of three. Some strange dynamics and some “interesting” (weird) conversations. Eventually Mum and I shared the look of let’s get the out of here and we exited stage left. By now we were rather hungry as breakfast was a long time ago. We messaged Joseph to let him know we were in search of food and would advise of our final destination. We settled on an Indian restaurant that had a good vegetarian menu. The waiter found us a table for two and assured us that by the time Joseph arrived that he would have us at a table for three. He was good to his word and we had only just landed in our table for three seats as Joseph walked through the door and joined us.
Wine ordered. Food ordered. Talking underway, sharing stories of our day.
Again, time in Europe when the daylight stays with you until after 9p.m, it is so easy to lose track of time. It was a beautiful evening and well after 10 as we walked through the streets of Soho after dinner. Joseph walked us to our bus stop and we ran and jumped on the bus with cries of ‘see ya, talk tomorrow, meet for lunch......’, as the bus appeared from nowhere.
We got back to our dodgy divey hotel, that had a strong undercurrent of dodgy crime surrounding it and made it to bed just before tomorrow arrived.
We woke up very excited about our day. It was Harry Potter day!. We had tickets to go and see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, a two part play written by JK Rowling, Part 1 was on at 2pm for 2 hours 40 minutes, and then Part 2 at 7.30pm.
To start our day we googled good breakfasts nearby and went and found a café that sounded the g, Cambridge Street Kitchen. We placed our orders and logged onto the free Wi-Fi and had a nice cruisy breakfast. The grainy granola and fruit was really yummy (no coconut yoghurt). We walked a different way back to the hotel, via the train station to top up our oyster cards and then back to our hotel to shower and get ready to go and meet Joseph for lunch and the play (s).
We met right out the front of the Palace Theatre and headed into the box office to pick up our tickets (we had ordered and paid for them when the holiday planning was happening). Joseph was starving and Mum and I were peckish, we found a place to eat called The Cambridge, which was funny given we had breakfast at Cambridge St Kitchen, very close (opposite) the theatre where we got drinks and food. They had a very impressive vegetarian menu and Mum suggested coming back for dinner instead of the Coach and Horses where we had made a booking yesterday. We kind of laughed it off.
Lunch was good, Joseph had a chunky beef and ale pie with mash and vegetables, only they forgot the mash and that was delivered late (after being asked for) with apologies and an offer of a free drink. I had the salmon nicoise salad, which was pretty damn good, not technically a nicoise salad, but good nonetheless. Mum had a goats cheese and beetroot tart with salad that looked amazing.
From our table we could see the theatre and there was a very long line of people out the door. It went all the way down the street and around the corner. Eventually we knew that we would have to go and join the queue, they do love a good queue in the UK. The line moved quickly and as we had no bags on us we were able to get into a shorter line (once we got to the front of the line, but information that would come in handy for the line-up of Part 2), we went through the security scan and in the doors.
First things first, Joseph pointed out he programmes, anyone who knows me knows that I am a sucker for a programme. And this one was a bargain! Only 5 pound! I got the programme and we headed downstairs in the direction of the door for our seats. We stopped at the fabulous looking bar and bought a pre theatre champagne each and a cheers here we are. Of course, in Europe you can take your drinks into the theatre (aahhh the civilisation of it all). We had great (GREAT) seats and we settled in. Took photos and soaked in the atmosphere. The theatre was packed. We were so lucky to not only get tickets, but to get GREAT seats was an absolute win!
Two hours and 40 minutes later and Part 1 was finished. To quote the little girl in front of me “Dad that was soooo good, I don’t want there to be a break until we see Part 2, not even 5 minutes!” She was right, it was really great. The special effects were magnificent, the acting was fabulous and the set and the costume and everything, fantastic.
We had dinner booked for 5.30 at the Coach and Horses so we were quite early getting out of the theatre before 5. We decided to go and see if our table was ready and if not we would have a drink while we waited. We were ushered upstairs and after a look at the dining area, which appeared to be some sort of high (not very high) tea in a warm box of a room with no atmosphere and tables and chairs in rows somewhat like a classroom. We cancelled our booking and reversed out of there, down the stairs and back out onto the street. Latched onto Mum’s suggestion from lunch time and went back to The Cambridge, as we walked in the door we could see that the place was heaving and there was no going in there, but there was a dining room upstairs, so up we went. The dining room was pretty busy, but they had room for us, we took a seat and proceeded with the what will we have process. Joseph had a steak with chips and salad, Mum had a lentil cottage pie topped with sweet potato and vegetables and I had a salad with some sliced steak (average), Mum definitely had the pick of the meals. We had a nice bottle of red with dinner and spent the time talking about everything from reviewing the play so far to reading the dessert menu and watching what everyone else had on their plates.
We could see the line to the theatre was growing outside, but we knew that there was the short line for no bags option, so we made the most of our table.
When we had finished and paid, we went back down to the no bag line and headed into the theatre. And there it was staring at me as I walked in. The Part 2 programme! The big colour photo programme for 12 pound. Obviously I wasn’t going to not get it. So of course the 5 pound programme was a trap. I handed over my money and took my prize.
The line for merchandise was epic, all the way down the stairs and around a corner, crazy, I wasn’t going to entertain the thought of needing merchandise.
Part 2 was just as good as Part 1, and we had a great time. We left the theatre just after 10 p.m. and strolled through the crowds of the very alive and busy streets of night time Soho. Crazy busy and on a Wednesday.
We walked to a bus stop quite some distance away and ignored the buses for a while as we were busy talking and saying goodbye. Joseph would be heading back to Paris the next day and we had plans to go to Banbury. With the distance between Paris and Perth, it would no telling when the next visit opportunity for us would be.
After our final hugs goodbye, we boarded the bus and went back for our last (thank god) night at Tophams Hotel.
Bags packed. Bikes packed. Time to fly to Milan and make our way to Varese. Paul is racing in the UCI Masters World Champ finals. I am super happy to not be racing and looking forward to some quality riding, finding my hill legs and going home with some new strength to kick off some quality training when we get home.
Our friend Phil is flying out at the same time and the three of us will be spending the next 4 weeks traveling and riding together. Phil is also doing the UCI, he is doing the time trial as well as the road race.
We have a 6am flight, which means we need to be at the airport nice and early. And because my mum is awesome and so is my father-in-law, they pick us all up at 3.30 a.m. It takes two cars to transport us with 4 bikes and luggage. We get to the airport just before 4, check in and make our way to the Qantas Club lounge to while away the wait time in comfort.
The flight is as always long and painful and painless all rolled into one. The food was standard aeroplane food (though I did keep our vegemite sachets for later in my holiday!) and the sleep was bitsy and short. The 3 hour stopover in Dubai is warm and the business lounge has dodgy air conditioning. We lessen the frustration with a glass of champagne in the lounge while we wait.
On the next leg of the trip we are all separated, as the flight was full and we couldn’t get seated together. Paul drew the short straw as Phil and I were both at the front of the plane which was much cooler than further down where Paul was. I went into numb filter everything out flying mode, read a book, watched a movie and wished the next 6 hours away. And then we were on the descent and landing in Milan. Helllooo Italy!
Passport control was standard Italian, stress free and no interest whatsoever in why we were there, quick passport stamp and straight through. Waiting for our luggage was another story and the suitcases took a very long time and the bikes took even longer. Phil’s two bikes were out relatively quick. Paul and I were waiting while everyone else was grabbing their bikes and heading off. It was getting a little tense as I could read Paul’s mind as he was thinking oh this is great they have lost my #*&#*& bike. Thankfully they hadn’t, we finally got them and then headed out to figure out how to get to our hotel at the airport.
We were staying at the Sheraton for the night as our transfer to Varese was 10 am the next morning. Check in was painless and they put our bikes in a secure room and we eagerly went to our rooms for a much needed shower and some real sleep in our very big very 80s décor hotel.
Clean sheets, pillows okay (by Italian standards), lights out. Sleep.
First things first, breakfast. And it was lovely and warm. I was very excited to put on shorts and t-shirt to go for breakfast. Our choices were, go back across to the airport and find something to eat OR pay 22 Euro pp for breakfast at the hotel. The last time we flew into Milan in 2013 and stayed at the same hotel we fell for the go back to the airport for a cheaper option breakfast. Which was an epic fail. So this time 22 Euro per person it was. Very expensive but the buffet breakfast spread was impressive and we tucked in. The wine rack was funkily impressive if not a little impractical. So perhaps just for display purposes methinks. We had a lengthy breakfast and stayed chatting for ages as we tried a few things from buffet. Including chocolate muesli. Muesli with chocolate chips in it. I seriously love a country that endorses chocolate for breakfast.
Breakfast done and we headed back to our rooms to close up bags and get on with our real holiday plans. Check out done and our pick up arrived as we were walking out. Fiona from Punto Tours was there with Marco driving a van for our bikes and luggage and she had her Scoda for us. In less than half an hour we were at our hotel, 5 kms out of Varese and checked in. Checked in with the typical lack of Italian customer service and a surprised look at us as if it is a shock to them that people want to check in. It’s as if we have interrupted them from something far more important. Fiona had offered to take us for a drive around to help us get our bearings and we jumped at the chance, we chucked our stuff into our rooms and headed off with Fiona. She drove us into Varese, showed us where the road race and time trial would both be starting from, pointed out some food places of note, including the best gelato in town. And drove us back a different way so that we knew the easy way to ride there and the fun descent way back, she pointed out where a bike shop was, just in case, showed us the lake, Lago di Varese and then back to the hotel. We said thanks and goodbye, Fiona made sure we had her number in case we needed anything and told us that Marco was an excellent bike mechanic in case we needed anything, and even though he was on holidays that he was helping her out for the week leading up to race day.
Back in our rooms it was time to put bikes together. Still not yet midday and we were keen to go for a ride and spin out our plane legs. We had rooms next to each other and a back door to the rooms opened out to a car park which allowed us good space to put our bikes together. Paul started on the bikes and I tried to make space in our room where we didn’t really have a wardrobe, just four coat hangers on a wall and we had luggage to survive 4 weeks of traveling. No draws to put anything so I used my sharpest organisation skills and added a good dose of creativity to make shit happen.
Meanwhile in bike putting together world, tension and swearing was growing. Paul’s rear derailleur was very badly bent and normally we ALWAYS have a spare packed. For some reason (change of bikes and the spares being in the tool bags of the other bikes) we didn’t have any spares. I rang Fiona, it was now midday and Marco was having lunch and then siesta, he would call her back at 15:30 to arrange a time to meet up and see what he could do. Next I messaged Jeff at Giant Perth to see if he had the right one in stock, I also messaged Jeff’s wife, Jodie, to ask her to tell Jeff to read his messages, then I messaged our friend Toggs to ask him if he could pick it up from the bike shop and bring it with him when he flies over on Monday.
Then back outside to see what I could do to “help”. Phil and I did a good job of shit stirring and offering unhelpful advice. Then I offered a nail file. Paul declined and continued to try and smash it fixed with a spanned on the fire hydrant. Meanwhile I am googling hardware shops to go and buy a metal file so that Paul could file it down. But, this is Italy and everything was closed for siesta. I love siesta. Except when you are not siesta-ing yourself and actually need something. I offer the nail file again. Paul decides he has nothing to lose. Some considerable time later and sore and dirty three pairs of hands, we get it “fixed” MacGyver style and can now get the back wheel on the bike. Somewhere in the middle of all that, my back wheel had a flat tyre for no reason on unpacking, so that got changed. And we start cleaning everything up. I look at Phil’s road bike and think well that looks weird. So I ask him where his chain is. Sheepishly he explains that it might be in the bag he started to pack to bring over but then changed bags. Because he was bringing two bikes and was really tight on luggage, he was trying to offload the weight of his bike bags as much as he could. And because we had extra luggage allowance thanks to both having Qantas Club we were checking in his suitcase as ours. So two bike problems fixed one to go. Phil said he would go to the bike shop and buy a chain. After SIESTA.
By now we were hungry so did some research for a non siesta place to eat. Phil found a sushi place in walking distance. Off we went. SushiZero. All you can eat sushi for 12 euro. In we went, again, lousy customer service, but eventually they found us a table. It was a weird system. And not really a lot of sushi on the menu, but we ordered our food and it came out bit by bit. We had enough to get us through and went back to get ride ready.
Lycra clad and bikes to go, the plan was that Paul would push Phil on his bike to the bike shop, which was only four kilometres away. Fingers crossed there would be no hills. Rather than push, it was easier for Phil to hold onto the seat post of Paul’s bike and get pulled along that way. Which made for a great photo. We found the bike shop (with a slight where the hell is it moment), chain bought and put on and it was time for our “real” ride.
I had read that there was a bike path all the way around the lake and it was about 30 kilometres, which was pretty much what we wanted to do. We found the path and went riding. Well it turns out that the path is not a path path all the way. We had all the surfaces you could think of. Mud, sand, gravel, bumpy cobbles, path and one or two slight wrong turns where the signing disappeared, but we managed to get back on track and found our way around with a few photo stops as we went. It was without a doubt the longest 35 kilometre day I have ever had. It was pretty bloody awesome and fun. And we found a gelato shop at the end of the loop which was a bonus.
We finished our ride and wiped bikes down, did post bike riding things and then it was dinner time. We decided to walk up the road, there was a Trattoria about 700 metres that Fiona had pointed out and google told me that it was open. Which one would expect on a Friday. Upon arrival it turned out that it wasn’t. It was after 7.30pm, and while we were early for Euro style dining, we weren’t stupid early, we were in the realms of acceptable. There were no signs of life. They were not going to open any time soon.
Where our hotel is is a little bit country, it’s on the edge of a small village, so the eating choices within walking distance are limited. Our hotel does do dinner, but, we weren’t keen on trying, just yet, maybe in a few days. There is a road house across the road from the hotel which in all honesty looks as dodgy as all get out, however the reviews all said good things. And without a car, we were running out of options. So the roadhouse it was. We walked back along the narrow two way road with no footpath back to our new dinner destination.
Again with the great greeting and service – total surprise that we would want a table, but it was doable and we got one. The inside of the restaurant was pretty cool and the menu looked okay. Food and drinks ordered and corn chips and salsa (their version of free bread) was placed on our table.
Dinner was great. Paul had veal fillets with chips and salad, I had chicken salad and Phil had steak tartare. The table service was pretty good and the food was very very good and really hit the spot. It was a great evening, we had now spent our first full day in Italy and the only ‘Italian’ food we had had so far was gelato. What a great start to our holiday. We got back to the hotel, agreed on 'meet for breakfast' time and headed to our rooms. Tomorrow we were going to go and ride the start of the road race course.
We met for breakfast upstairs in our Varese hotel. Hotel Capolago. A standard Italian buffet breakfast affair but of less quality than other experiences. A LOT of sweet things. Including chocolate muesli.
After breakfast we lycra’d up and got ready to go riding. Todays plan was to do the first two climbs of the road race course to help the guys prepare for the race on Sunday. But first we had to figure out how to get there. Some studying of the race course loaded onto our Garmins (bike computers) cross checked with some google maps, we headed off. Just to get to Varese where the race would be starting from was a tough ride, less than a kilometre in and we were faced with a long 8% hill looming ahead of us. All well and fine for the fit and trained, me on the other hand, ouch, struggle town. But what doesn’t kill me….. And into Varese and around to where the race would start. We headed out onto the course and finally found the turn right to start climbing for the first hill. The first hill was close to 5 kilometres and not a load of fun. The views however were outstanding. The first descent was incredibly technical and narrow with some nasty potholes. And again the scenery to look at had some incredibly beautiful views. We rode down along the flats along the lake, Lago di Lugano and wound our way around to the next climb, stopping for a water top up at a café. The second climb was easier in comparison, but still not my cup of tea, the descent was beautiful but with some savage bumps along the way. At the bottom, we turned left and headed back to Varese. We had lots of stops along the way, a few photo stops, the occasional map check so we were riding through the heat of the day, having not left until 9am, as we were riding back into Varese I was having a sense of humour fail, I was hangry, it had been many hours since my not big enough breakfast and for my unfit body I was working incredibly hard to climb the hills so I was burning energy at an incredible rate. Stupidly, I hadn’t put any food in my pockets so I was working toward a hunger flat. As we rode into Varese, I was losing not only my sense of humour but also my sense of direction, a few snappy remarks and the boys picked up on my urgent food crisis and we quickly found somewhere to eat. It was the best (not the most interesting) tuna salad I have had, and it came with warmed pita bread, downed with a berry smoothie and a cute little shortcrust pastry filled with gooey dark chocolate. Stomachs replenished and we were good for the ride home back down the hill to Capolago. We got home just after 2 and made a loose plan to head back into Varese (by taxi) at about 4, which gave us a couple of hours down time and recoup.
By 4.30 we were in a taxi on the way up the hill to the centre of Varese. We were early enough to mooch the old mall and the shopping areas, I spied a pair of boots that took my fancy and made a mental note to have a proper look at a later time. We just cruised around, a tad aimlessly, but without stress just kind of looking at the area, the church, the architecture and our surroundings. We stopped in an open area at a café as it seemed that it was now our second full day in Italy and we still had not had a spritz! Such an oversight. Seated, Paul ordered an aperol spritz and I ordered a Campari spritz while Phil opted for an espresso. Italy being Italy, the waitress told us that she would bring us out some food, at no charge. We have had this experience in Italy before, but the food delivered with this round of drinks was a fair bit generous than previous occasions. There was the standard basket of chips, plus a plate with bread and meats and fruit. It was quite incredible. On our second round of drinks we had to ask her not to bring the food as they just keep supplying it each time you order another drink! And we had a plan to find pasta for dinner, so we didn’t want to fill up on fancy generous bar snack.
After a lovely time of chit chat and people watching we left the café in search of a restaurant that google had found for us. On the way we went past those boots. I decided that there was no time like the present and went in to try them on. And 7 minutes later walked out with a new purchase. My third trip to Italy and my first ever shoe purchase. It was about time!
We then continued on to find our dinner. We found the spot and if the building was even still operating as a restaurant, it definitely wasn’t going to be opening any time soon. Possibly a by-product of the fact that we are here at the height of holiday season. Some more google and some more walking and we found an area littered with cafes and eating places. We narrowed it down to two, chose one and then realised we were a tad early as they were still setting up. We checked out some shops, uneventfully, and then came back for dinner. We were greeted with a smile and some pastry on a stick to eat and shown to a table. So far the best welcoming service we have had. Before long the waiter came along with menus and we settled in to reading and deciding. Decisions made and orders placed. I got a bib delivered and placed over my head, as I had ordered the seafood spaghetti, which was pippis and mussels. We ordered the house white, as Phil doesn’t do red and our meals arrived very quickly and were served with friendly smiles and great service.
All three meals were excellent and the salad fantasia was yum, but very very big. The wine was pleasant and easy to drink. We had a great evening. After our plates were cleared we were offered dessert and or coffee. Phil ordered an espresso and the delightful waiter went hard to work on trying to convince me to have something. We finally settled on limoncello; 2 minutes later he returns with three unlabelled bottles, a limoncello, a pastachiocello and a mangocello and places them on the table with three glasses and leaves us to it. The limoncello was excellent, the pistachio was yum and the mango was weird.
On paying the bill and leaving, we weren’t charged for the drinks at the end which was a delightful bonus to the end of another fun and fabulous day. A taxi ride home and plans made for the morning to ride to Switzerland to meet a cycling friend of Paul’s who was over here on holidays.
Early (earlier than normal when on a cycling holiday) but only as early as the hotel makes breakfast available from – breakfast,and we head upstairs at 7am. Breakfast done and on the bike to ride to Lugano in Switzerland to meet a friend that Paul knows through cycling who is here on holidays.
How exciting, the very thought of riding to another country to meet at a café excites the child in me, I find it just so cool, I want to jump up and down and clap my hands in glee. Alternatively pedalling in the right direction also helps. We of course had done the research, and had our maps and sense of direction all good to go. Of course to get out of the valley we are in means riding up the hill to Varese and off we headed.
The trip to Lugano was only about 40 kilometres and we had calculated how much time it would take to get there. However we didn’t factor in, seeing people we know from Perth along the way, and we stopped and said hello to Andrew, Amanda and Deb who were all about to do a full gas run of the TT course. Amanda is here to give the time trial a red hot go and fingers crossed she can get on the podium. We waved goodbye and kept going on our way.
We also did not factor in how many times we might need to stop to check where we were. A few map checks en route, a photo stop as we saw some breathtaking views of Switzerland across the other side of the lake as we were descending down a hill. We crossed the border into Switzerland, which was just funny and thrilling. For me.
Our scheduled meet time of 9.15 was pushed out a little, but we finally got to the café, Pane e Zucchero to meet Wade for coffee. Paul and I, not being coffee drinkers, ordered a hot chocolate, and I had my inside child’s fingers crossed for a really great typical Italian hot chocolate (Swiss style of course), Wade and Phil ordered coffees and the waitress asked if we would like brioche to which Wade said yes we would have four. The hot chocolate did not disappoint and we were served a delightful cup of thick syrupy hot chocolate. I picked at my brioche as I didn’t really need to eat it and we caught up on what was happening. Wade then said we should ride to Como. So off we headed to Como. Again, several map stops, a border crossing into Italy and some very intense riding where I thought that my legs would probably fall off and I was doing everything to hold the wheel in front and not get dropped. Some of the hills got the better of me, and the boys waited or slowed down when I was in super struggle town.
Finally we were descending into Como where we met up with Wade’s father in law, and headed to a little cool cycling café. It was getting hot, so cold drinks and more sitting down and chatting, and Paul bought a cool t-shirt and then we rolled out of Como, bid farewells and went our separate ways and Paul, Phil and I were figuring out how to get back to Varese. And a few photos of the very tourist packed Lake Como, climbing out of Como there was beautiful views, more stops, and then even more stops until we were crossing a different border back into Switzerland, as that was the way home, and a little lost we stopped at a corner. A local guy riding along on the other side of the road, called out to see if we needed help. Such a relief. He knew where we needed to go and said he would ride with us to the next border crossing. He was on a very old steel bike, an authentic antique complete with the old aluminium water bottle hanging off the front. To complete the look he had on woollen cycling knicks and jersey and an old leather skull cap helmet. It was a very impressive get up. Unfortunately the photos I could take from behind did not show how magnificent he really looked. We took him up on his offer and rode with him. And he took off, yikes, I was going to have to extract even more buried strength to survive this one. Especially when we turned a corner and were going up a hill, he was motoring and I was telling myself it was either get dropped and stay lost or hang on. If my legs weren’t sore before that, they were trash now!
He got us close to the border where he turned off pointing us in the right direction and we continued. At a slightly more sedate pace. We still had a way to go and the journey home would not be complete without some more surprise hills. So I had started the day thinking I was riding a nice flat, not too hard ride to Switzerland and back and had anticipated we would have about 80 kilometres and instead got home with 112 and a lot more metres of climbing than I had bargained for. My, I am going to get fit while on holiday campaign had started with a bang, two hilly hard days back to back, this was cycling boot camp in Italy.
Due to the thousands of stops, café and map checks and photos, we didn’t get back to Varese until nearly 2pm. We stopped in town at a café to get something for lunch and the arrogant arses at the café blatantly ignored us. Plenty of customers came along and sat down at tables after us and received prompt service but we were simply ignored. Needless to say, I will be making a trip advisor note about Socrate Café in Varese. As we left I suggested that we try and find the gelato place that Fiona had told us about on our first day, Phil remember roughly when she had pointed it out, and I knew how to get to the street he was talking about so off we went in hunt of gelato. After not a lot of real food today, it was a two scoop gelato day for me and I had bacio and stracciatella. Yum! The bacio had whole hazelnuts in it!
With ice cream headaches we then rode home for much needed showers and kit washing. A little while later Phil sent us a message saying he was going for a walk to the supermarket, I went with him in search of real food as we were all a bit hungry, but I returned with a container of cut up pineapple. Dinner was going to go down a treat!
On Friday night when we ate at the dodgy looking Roadhouse that turned out to be pretty good, we had learnt that they did all you can eat ribs on Sunday nights, as off we headed for 7.30, as soon as they opened. The ribs arrived and I couldn’t actually eat all of the ribs that they served, let alone considering having more to take up the all you can eat option. I gave it a good nudge but couldn’t complete the challenge. Of course with ribs you need a bib and these were delivered to the table with our dinner.
We finished our evening with a glass of prosecco and a cheers to a good holiday amd some little fondant dessert, mini cupcake things filled with gooey deliciousness. Off to bed with very sore legs and a full stomach.
The first week of this holiday is really all about Paul’s preparation for the road race on Sunday. However, Paul being Paul is very relaxed – most of the time – about it and we are having quite a holiday week as well. With lots of cycling of course.
I woke up with very sore legs, my lack of training was starting to show and I was at risk of being a no show. After breakfast I faffed for a while oscillating between complete rest day to just an easy ride. In the end I headed out with Paul and Phil who had plans to go and ride the second two thirds of the course, given that we had done the first third on two days ago. I rode into Varese (up the bloody awful hill – in case this isn’t coming through, hills and I don’t get on well together and without any real fitness my feelings toward hills is a little unfriendly), into Varese and after the first 15 kilometres we stopped at a roundabout to note that it was the turn around for the time trial (important information for Phil) and at which stage I said, I am heading back and Phil suggested I stay with them while it was still flat until they turned onto the rest of the road course. I agreed.
While riding along on the back this little FOMO voice kept piping up telling me that I would regret not going with them. The big noisy voice in my legs said to shut the F up as my legs and body were so sore and tired. Meanwhile as all the voices inside me chatted amongst themselves my main voice just kept with the keep pedalling, don’t get dropped.
At the stop and confirm which way to go and an estimation of how many kilometres they would have by the time they got back to Varese (currently sitting on 25), Paul estimated they would have about 85 by the time they got back, while talking I had a snack of a bar appropriated from the buffet at breakfast and a gel (watch me learn), and I was good and ready for the ride back to Varese. I rode the first 5 kilometres with Paul and Phil and when we got to the bit where they turned right and I went straight, FOMO voice turned my handlebars and I went right.
The course was stunningly beautiful. Fantastic as a ride. However as a race course, I don’t love it. It is technical and scary with narrow roads and in places slippery roads. People will over estimate their ability and people will crash and get hurt. The fact that people are doing the course as a race on Sunday scares me – a lot. I can only hope that I am wrong and that everyone stays safe and okay.
We continued on roads that I wish I had the time to stop and take video and photos of. We ascended some gnarly climbs and descended some shit scary descents. After a particularly long and fast descent, and as we started to climb again, we stopped for a photo opportunity, which gave me the chance to check my wheels as things were feeling harder than they should have. Yep – puncture, slow flat, front wheel. Bugger. But relief to find while standing still rather than when descending at over 60 kilometres an hour!
Puncture changed, photos taken, onwards (and upwards, always upwards – hills hills hills), a particularly shaded dark very steep incline and I was praying for more gears, some fun tricky sharp turns through narrow streets and some cobbles (just for shits and giggles) a delightful street sign announcing a 13% incline, this ride was relentless. At one stage it wasn’t just me questioning how much further to go.
Eventually we got close to Gavirate (not far from Varese) and the group decision was made (which may or may not have been heavily influenced by my whingeing) to go off course and stop in Gavirate for lunch. It was past 1pm and we were all very hungry by now. The guys felt that they had seen enough of the course without doing the final climb back into Varese and we stopped for lunch.
The menu was not extensive (or maybe it was but our Italian was too dodgy to figure it all out). Paul and I ordered the hamburger and Phil ordered the calamari. The hamburger was quite a surprise when it turned up. A meat patty with some iceberg lettuce on the side. Luckily we had ordered a side salad and some chips to share, so it filled the gap. The lunch views overlooking the lake were beautiful and the weather was delightful. The fact they allow people to smoke in eating areas annoys me profusely and I would have liked to just choke the people smoking next to us….. but, apart from that, a good (interesting) lunch. And we were rebalanced enough to ride back to our hotel. We got home with a delightful (incredibly hard for the lazy unfit amongst us) 113 kilometres with about 1500 metres of climbing. Have I mentioned my feelings about hills……..
Back at the hotel, I threatened to take afternoon nap action. However I really am all talk and failed on the nap front. I was fairly useless though and just lay around for a while achieving nothing at all. I did google places to go for dinner within walking distance, but the options were few. At about 6.30, Phil popped in and suggested we track down a laundromat, thanks to the hotel laundry service being on holidays. Google said there was a laundromat 2ish kilometres away, so we put our dirty clothes in backpacks and decided to ride there, in normal people clothes, no bike shoes, to the laundromat and there was a pizza place not far from there. Sold, we would eat pizza while the washing machines did their thing.
We headed off. Paul leading the way, with Phil at the back letting us know which way to go. Turn left at the roundabout. We did, and in front of us was a drag of a hill (of course there was), we keep riding and it keeps getting harder, around a bend and it is now looking incredibly unpleasant, especially with sneakers on top of clip in pedals. We err on the side of caution and stop for a standard ‘map check” but yes we are heading in the right direction, only one kilometre to go Phil says. I mumble some choice words and we climb the hill. The view at the top was pretty awesome and the weather was beautiful. And it was fun riding around in normal clothes.
Finding the laundromat took a little while, as we wound our way through some gorgeous Italiany paved streets and then down into a fairly dodgy area to the laundromat. Some laundry messing around organising washing powder and finally the clothes were in and we went on a pizza hunt.
Pizza place was a tad dodgy looking. Paul rode on ahead and then called us up the road. He had found a trattoria. They were accommodating to us putting our bikes in the front courtyard and we sat at a table where we could see the bikes. As we read the menu it became obvious that the food was going to be a little fancy, very arty and possibly small. It was all of the above. Plus yummy. And the wine, while not cheap was delicious. So our cheap pizza night ended up costing over $200. It was brilliant.
We went and picked up our clothes and rode back down the hill, in the dark, with backpacks of wet clothes on our backs, no helmets and very limited lights (sorry Mums). As we had forgone the dessert menu at the little fancy trattoria, we decided to stop at the supermarket for chocolate. I offered to wait outside with the bikes and trusted Paul and Phil to do the chocolate run. They took so long I had started to worry that something has happened. Finally they appeared, with arms full, beer, prosecco, baileys, dark orange lindt chocolate, raspberry chocolate, hazelnut chocolate and apple biscuits. What!? Such a funny evening. I laughed all the way home, in the dark, with a wet backpack and too many snacks.
Dessert and baileys was served outside the back doors of our rooms on our classy plastic chairs. A great finish to another fabulous day.
Last night our friends Matt and Melinda and their daughter Ali arrived. Matt is also racing the UCI events. We caught up with them over breakfast and made your ride plans for the day. Off the back of my “rest day” yesterday, I was still complaining about sore legs, but felt the need to go for a ride.
I rode out with the boys and yes again up the hill to Varese, and around to the Ippodromo (horse race track) where the time trial on Thursday would be starting from. Matt had arranged to meet a friend of ours who rides with the women’s Mitchelton Scott pro team and is based here in Gavirate, not far from Varese.
Jess had Wanda with her who Jess coaches, Wanda is also in Varese for the UCI events, and the plan was to do a roll through of the TT course. After a hello and a hug with Jess and a quick chat about our bike shoes, I said I would catch them later as I need to go for an easy roll. Jess said it would be easy and I should go with them. Matt did say, yes Jess but a pro version of steady easy is different to a normal persons, but she insisted it would be a doddle and of course I said yes, you can’t turn down an offer like that. And safety in numbers, I could just sit on the back and draft.
We rode out on the course and it was apparent to me very quickly that I was going to be spending a bit of time, issuing stern words to my legs to stay strong and to not get dropped. So the easy ride didn’t really happen. It did however give us a chance to see the TT course properly and it is a fantastic course, so good it nearly made me wish that I was fit, TT ready and had my gear here. Almost. Don’t get me wrong, I am loving the no pressure holiday groove I have going on.
After the TT recon, Jess asked us if we wanted to go to a cool café near her place in Gavirate and we cycled down the Gavirate. There was lots of fast sweeping descents, the traffic is pretty good here and we were able to take full advantage of the bends. Down in Gavirate and we pulled up at a gorgeously appointed café, Caffe Maggioni, everyone ordered their preference, mine was sparkling water, and we sat in the pretty outside area catching up.
As we left, Jess showed us the way to a bike shop for spare things, and also a café that is apparently a great lunch place (noted for later or another day) and then we went our separate ways with plans to catch up for dinner during the week.
On the ride back to Varese we stopped at another bike shop (the one from our first day here when Phil bought a chain) still looking for supplies. We made it home by just after midday – our earliest return yet.
As there isn’t really much in the way of anything where we are staying, Matt popped by to see if we wanted to all catch a taxi into Varese for lunch and look around. Taxi’s ordered for 1.30 and up the hill (thankfully by car) and we regrouped in the centre of town.
We wondered aimlessly for a bit, shop windows etc. and then walked past a pizza place, a quick menu check to confirm that they were GF friendly for Melinda and in we went to order our pizzas. Or in my case a salmon and tuna salad. With a lot of lettuce. A LOT! Lunch was delivered quickly and it was all pretty simple and very nice. We declined the dessert menu and opted instead to walk to the great gelato place.
After gelato, Ali was keen to do some shopping, so we had a look in a couple of shops, a purchase was made and we were all getting a little tired and the aimlessness was not as interesting. Taxied back to the hotel to all go and do our own thing for a couple of hours. Everyone was a bit tired and just chilling seemed to pretty much be the go.
We regrouped for dinner and made our way across the road to the Roadhouse Restaurant, have I mentioned that there is not a lot around here. Dinner was a quiet simple affair, and the chilled afternoon rolled into a chilled evening and early retirement.
After breakfast, Paul and Matt headed out on an organised group ride of the course for the upcoming road race. Phil, who was time trialling the next day, went out on his TT bike later in the morning to prepare and go to the cycling village for bike check in (all TT bikes need to meet certain specification requirements) and make any necessary adjustments if the bike doesn’t comply.
After Paul and Matt returned from their ride Matt, Melinda, Paul and I caught s taxi to Varese. Paul and Matt needed to check in at the cycling village and get their race packs, we bumped into Phil who had to make some slight adjustments to his TT bike and was in the queue to get it re-checked.
After checking out the various stalls at the village, we caught a taxi up town for Matt and Melinda to pick up their hire car. In standard Italian style that took longer than necessary. They didn’t have what Matt had requested, but she said they would give him ‘or similar’ and confirmed it was a big car. Very big. When we got out to the car park, she told us that the car was “manuel” so from there on, the car’s name was Manuel. Manuel was not, however, very big. Manuel was a Ford CMax (not quite a Galaxy), and there was going to be a struggle for Matt and Melinda to fit everything in. We drove out and headed back to the hotel. The boys were heading into wind down taper mode and the rest of the afternoon was chilled.
Matt’s sister Gemma, was catching the train from Tuscany to Varese and we all went back into town later in the evening to pick her up before going to dinner. Italian trains are typically Italian and Gemma’s arrival was delayed. In the car park of the train station was a café/bar (smart capitalisation of the fact that trains are always delayed). We went in and ordered drinks and took a table outside. Everyone was relaxed and in a good mood and we whiled away the wait with chat and easy banter.
Gemma arrived, we put her luggage in Manuel and left the car parked at the train station and walked into town to where Matt had booked dinner the Gnoccheria. We were shown to our table and given menus. Water and the standard basket of complimentary bread was delivered. Wine and meals were ordered. My eggplant ragout gnocchi in a parmesan basket was outstanding. Gemma had the porcini mushroom and blueberry risotto that we all had to try. All the meals where magnificent. Somehow Paul, Phil and Matt still had room in their dessert bellies and Phil and Paul both ordered a dessert that they were very enthusiastic about. Pineapple with coconut gelato and a shot of rum to pour over it.
After dinner we walked to the taxi stand, for Paul, Phil and I to catch a taxi, as now that there was Gemma and her luggage there was not enough room for us all in Manuel.
Catching a taxi in Varese is one of the most frustrating experiences of Varese. There are never any taxis at the taxi stand and number to ring never works. On this night nobody wanted to help us get one and at one stage we called Matt to see if he could come back and get us. But he didn’t answer his phone. We sent him an FB message. Eventually a taxi appeared and we sent another message to say it was all good. A bit of a downer finish to a great evening, but one that we could easily shake off.
Today was time trial day. Both Phil and Matt were time trialling but the men’s start times weren’t until the afternoon, with Phil being off at 2.40 and Matt at 3.20. An easy spin was required in the morning. So Paul, Phil, Matt and I headed out at about 9.30 and went for an easy ride to Gavirate and went to Jess’s favourite café. This time I tried the Café Crema, which is pretty cool and amazing that I like it given that I don’t like coffee. It is like a creamy soft serve very mild coffee flavoured ice cream. We met a very big golden retriever at the café, who was just lovely. Our easy ride back to the hotel where I waved the boys goodbye and I rode on for a bit longer before heading home.
That afternoon, Paul and I had one job and that was to do everything that Phil and Matt needed us to do so that they would get to the start line successfully and good to go.
We put Phil’s TT bike in the back of Manuel, with their bags with skinsuits, aero helmets and all the required gear and waved them off from the hotel as they rode off to head up to Varese to the TT start line.
Paul and I went to get some lunch as we still had a couple of hours, so we went to Gavirate to a lunch place recommended by Jess. What we didn’t allow for was the Italian wait. And we waited. And we waited. And we waited. I checked google maps and was watching the time and eventually I said to Paul, we need to cancel our order, or pay for it and cut our losses, and go. We went and hat a chat, and they were so lovely and said that they could do it take away, as it was just ready to be brought to our table. They packed it up while I paid and we ran to the car and drove very quickly to the TT.
Due to road closures, we couldn’t get as close to where Phil and Matt were warming up as we wanted to. We found parking, got all the gear out, pumped up tyres on Phil’s TT bike and walked to where they were. Phil got TT ready and then rode off to the start line. We checked if Matt needed anything and then headed on up to the start line to take photos and cheer for Phil.
After we cheered Phil off to a good start, we then went back to where Matt was and made sure he was all good to go. He rode off to the start line, Paul and I headed down on to the course to cheer Phil on his way back in. While we were waiting we watched the time to make sure that we got to the start line for Matt’s take off. We decided that one would go and one would stay so that we could spread the cheering out. I asked Paul to head to the start line as I was developing a blister on my heel, all the walking and my shoes were not playing ball and I had no band aids with me (they were back in the hotel room……).
Before long, I saw Phil and I cheered while trying to take photos. I got a photo of Matt on his way out. And then headed back to where they had been warming up as all the gear and Phil’s road bike was now unattended. Before long Phil had made his way back shortly followed by Paul and we went down to the road to cheer in Matt as he headed back to the finish line.
Post TT and helping the boys pack up, Paul and I carried the extra stuff and bike back to the car, Matt and Phil rode home. We met down by the lake at a gelato shop. It was a particularly hot day and we were all rather warm and gelato seemed the perfect snack.
Later in the evening we headed back into Varese to meet Jess for a pre-dinner drink and then she took us to her favourite Varese restaurant. We were minus Melinda as she had caught the train to Florence to catch up with her brother who was there for work.
Jess had a bag of cycling shoes for me, we wear the same shoes and the same size, Jess has the colour I want and thanks to her team sponsors she told me that she had two spare pairs, brand new, and she was keen to have a pair in black like mine. After that conversation, I had messaged my bike shop guy to see if he could get me another pair in black and once he confirmed, Jess gave me her fluro yellow ones and when she comes back to Perth later in the year I will give her the new black pair. I have been trying to get those shoes in my size in that colour for 9 months and no amount of searching all over the world has been successful. It is hard to explain how exciting a new pair of cycling shoes can be!
The restaurant, was an incredible experience. It is set up as a bit of shrine to cycling legends and it is decorated with signed jerseys all over the walls and hanging from the roof and looking up there were photos and memorabilia pinned to the roof. It was very cool. The owner of the restaurant is a bit of a fan of Jess’s (who isn’t) and we hadn’t had the opportunity to read the menu when food started arriving, Jess said this was normal, each time she came here. So we tucked into some an amazing array of entrees, along with the entrees came some carafes of wine, red and white and bottles of water. We ordered our meals, I decided on the porcini mushroom risotto and added parmesan and chilli, it was sensational! Of course I couldn’t eat it all, it was a shame to leave it, but it was demolished by others at the table.
We had a lovely evening of endless chatter accompanied by amazing food. At some stage Jess asked for the bill and a while later, the waiter came back with a dessert platter that was nothing short of magnificent. One that words cannot do it justice, needless to say, many photos were taken! Along with the amazing dessert platter, which had so much including vodka cream shots and chocolate salami (meat free, just looks similar, kind of like hedgehog), we were handed a bottle of grappa and a bottle of limoncillo. Quite simply there are not enough appropriate adjectives to do the evening justice; and then when we did get the bill, the things that we did not get charged for was ridiculous. Incredibly generous, but ridiculous. I think we paid for main meals and water.
We farewelled Jess with hugs and kisses and made our way back to the car and without a doubt we all went to bed very full, some of us a little tipsy and all insistent that we would never eat again.
We woke up to a rainy morning and at breakfast (yes we all did eat again) we discussed the day ahead. The weather was quite crap and the lycra clad amongst us all agreed that we did not need to ride. Matt had to work at the cycling village for the day and the rest of us thought a visit to the Lindt factory was a great idea. After all this holiday was turning into a calorie laden trip. And besides, Lindt. Nearly every ride we had done so far had taken us past the factory and you could smell the chocolate as you were riding. Paul parked Manuel as close as we could get and we dashed through to the rain into Lindt. All we found was a big retail warehouse. I don’t know if the prices were any better than normal but there was definitely products that we hadn’t seen before and despite our vows of the night before, we all walked out carrying bags of purchased Lindt goodies.
After Lindt, we decided to drive up a hill that we had been told was a great hill to ride up, with the dodgy weather as well as the race being on Sunday, it made better sense to drive up. The drive was a little tricky in parts, narrow and very steep and lots of hairpins, some of the bends were so tight that we had to warn traffic we were coming by learning to use the horn, Paul did a great job navigating the terrain and the scenery was breathtaking, at times a little terrifying for those of us on the passenger side and at one stage as a bus was coming down the hill just as we were approaching a hairpin bend Paul had to take evasive action hard against the edge that had quite a savage drop down, this resulted in some dramatic exclamations from both Gemma and me who were both on the passenger side.
We got to the top which was well worth the trip, and even though the weather was still insisting on being rather miserable we still got out and took photos and had a look around.
The drive down was less terrifying but only slightly, and we encouraged Paul to be more assertive in his horn use.
Safely back on kind of flat land in Varese we looked for parking so that we could pick Mat up, we found parking right near the cycling village, but it was taped off for officials or special people only. Somehow we managed to convince the guy at the entrance that we were either officially special or specially official and he let us in to park. It definitely was not legit, but we were happy to take it.
In the cycling village, nearly everything was empty and covered up due to the poor weather. We messaged Matt and he advised that he was in a caravan somewhere being looked after with refreshments. By this stage we were all ready for lunch and we went and found somewhere nearby to eat.
Back at the village after lunch Matt was now at work, everything was now open, we had a look around, Gemma being a non-cyclist bought a t-shirt, Paul, Phil and I bought cycling gels (to eat while riding), we bumped into people we knew, including Andrew and Amanda, and congratulated Amanda on getting silver in her age group in the time trial yesterday. Second in the world, no easy feat! And well deserved after all her hard work and dedication.
When we were finally ready to leave, Matt was still working so he said he would message when he was ready to be picked up. We went back to our hotel and went our separate ways for a few hours.
That evening we needed an easy option for dinner so went back across to the local roadhouse, which, while easy, I was starting to be a little over it. However it was the only option as far as easy convenience went. And Ali and Matt shared the Super Sundae for dessert, which was not only massive but also full of lots of extras including M&Ms and Oreo cookie chunks. A fitting dessert for a day that started with a visit to the Lindt warehouse.
Tapering for a bike race is relatively boring. Not only for those racing, but for the supporters as well. As last minute bike checks, prep and planning and pre-race nerves and tension are added to the mix. It goes without saying that the day was uneventful. And finished with another dinner at the roadhouse as no-body had got around to booking anywhere for dinner and by the time we tried to get in somewhere, everywhere was booked.
Melinda came back from Florence, dinner was low key as everyone was a bit antsy, not to mention roadhouse fatigued.
Plans for race morning were locked in. The boys would all ride to the start line, Gemma, Melinda, Ali and I would catch a taxi to Varese for the start and then had plans to catch a train to Laveno to go on a “bucket” ride to the top of a mountain.
Good nights were said and we all hoped for a pre-race decent night’s sleep for the racers.
Race day morning and everyone was up early. Those of us not racing opted to skip breakfast, hoping to find something different later in the morning. We sent love and good luck and took photos, of course, of the racers, and jumped in our taxi which had arrived, uncharacteristically for Italian time, on time for our 6.45 pick up.
Start line check in, we took spare clothing that they wouldn’t need for the race, said our final good lucks, stay safe, enjoy, took photos and waved them all off.
We stopped at a café, who weren’t doing hot chocolate, so I had a water and skipped the croissant. Croissants need to be really really good to be worth eating, and my experience so far in this part of Italy, was they were not that good.
I had already checked the train time table to Laveno last night, so we knew that we needed to be at the train station for 8.30, thankfully we got there a bit early, as we were at the wrong train station, luckily the right one was not too far away so we made a speedy exit of the wrong one and walked with haste to the next. We got and validated our tickets and were on the train for its 8.35 departure.
We got to Laveno at about 9.10 and stepped out to the most gorgeous lake views. Laveno was incredibly pretty, so we spent plenty of time taking photos and looking around, but we had no idea of where the bucket ride was. Gemma went in to the ferry ticket office to ask for help, she came out having learned that it wasn’t actually called a bucket ride. So we walked off up past the church to the funivia.
By this stage Gemma was quietly (actually quite loudly) terrified. Her fear of heights and rides was now taking over all her emotions, but she was determined that she would be okay. When we got to the funivia, it was closed, oh no! But it was okay, they just didn’t open until 10, we were a little early. Which gave us time to look up the mountain and at the buckets. We saw that some were open buckets with no walls higher than just above waist height, and some were closed in. I told Gemma we wouldn’t get a choice of which one we would get to in.
Finally, after the longest 10 minutes, we got in, bought out tickets and went straight to the funivia entrance. The buckets hold two people only and we had to stand on marked footprints, person one, and 20m metres away, person two. The funivia guy asked us if we wanted closed or open, I said open, Gemma squealed, I told her we would be fine. As the bucket goes past you, you grab the rail on the bucket and run with it and jump in, I was in, then Gemma was in, we were both assisted and pushed in by funivia man and he slammed the door shut behind us. At which stage, as the bucket started ascending, Gemma dropped like she had been punched to the floor, hysterically half crying, half laughing and I helped by videoing her, what are friends for… Behind us, Melinda and Ali had got in the bucket behind us and we were able to wave and call out to them.
The ride up took just over quarter of an hour, and the views of the lake and town and islands below were amazing. At the top, we were in the clouds. It was fabulous. By now, thanks to our non-existent breakfast, we were grateful for the café at the top. We had a snack to sustain us until lunch and sat amongst the clouds soaking in the incredibleness of it all.
We swapped bucket partners for the descent, Ali went with Gemma, and Melinda and got in the bucket after them. On the way down, Melinda and I were fortunate enough to see a mountain goat that ran under our bucket and continued on through the mountain trails. It was a very big, very healthy looking goat and was a nice addition to the whole experience.
Back down in Laveno we went in search of a light lunch and found a little café right on the lake and decided to share a plate of prosciutto and melon, Gemma and I both had a Campari spritz, Ali opted for gelato for lunch.
There was so much more to do in Laveno and Jess had recommend a ferry trips to the islands, unfortunately today wasn’t the day for it, as we had racers to support and Melinda was keen to get back to try and see Matt finish. We didn’t make it in time, but we did catch up with him in the village. Paul and Phil had already ridden back to the hotel.
After chatting with Matt about his race, we went in search of a taxi to catch. Something that continued to be near on impossible from the town of Varese. After a considerable amount of time, we caught one back to the hotel.
Thinking ahead, earlier in the day, and keen to avoid yet another dinner at the roadhouse, we had managed to book dinner at a restaurant up the road recommended by Jess. I messaged Jess to see if she wanted to join us so we could catch up and say goodbye for now.
Paul and I had booked a hire car that we need to pick up from Milan airport. The plan was for Matt to drive us in after the race. Matt was rather stuffed and said he needed a nap first. So we re-planned and asked Phil if he wanted to join us on the trip. We borrowed Manuel and went to Milan for the pick-up. In theory a simple and straight forward exercise, however, Italy at its finest meant it took far longer than necessary. With some minor dramas, we eventually picked up, not our ford Transit van as requested, we also got and or similar, an Opel 9 seater van that was later named the Euro Love Bus. We eventually got back to our hotel just after 6, giving us enough time to play around with the logistics of packing 4 bikes, luggage and 3 people into it for our drive to Sondrio the next day, before showering and dressing for dinner. The group decision was made to squeeze all 7 of us into the love bus and we headed off into the rain that had now joined us, for dinner.
Another lovely evening, some good food, Jess gave me a pair of brand new sneakers also from her team sponsors. The racers had all had reasonably solid days out on the bike and importantly had all finished safe, so there was some post-race debriefing as well. Jars of lollies were placed on the table with desserts, and we had a very relaxed evening before heading home to prepare for an early morning, to pack and drive.
After breakfast we packed the love bus, and also took Gemma’s luggage, as Manuel was not big enough to carry Matt, Melinda, Ali, Matt’s bike, their luggage and Gemma and Gemma’s luggage. The plan was to convoy, but we lost Manuel’s tail in the first 3 kilometres and took the wrong direction at the fork in the road. Thankfully Phil, who has a better data plan than me, turned his maps on his phone on, and after a slight wrong detour through a little town, we were back on track. Several hours later we were getting closer to Sondrio and had a message from Matt to say they were stopping at the big Decathlon store just out of Sondrio, we agreed we would meet them there. A wonder through Decathlon, Paul and I bought some rear lights for our bikes and I bought the new version of the gloves I bought there 5 years ago.
By this stage we were very hungry and more than ready for lunch. The shopping plaza near the decathlon had a food hall which now was the easiest option. Food hall surprises and I was able to make a very delightful tuna salad with some lovely fresh produce. After lunch, we went in search of our BnB we had booked in the centre of Sondrio and Manuel’s crew headed to the nearby village Albosaggio to their family apartment that they had for accommodation.
After some difficulty in getting into our BnB, and Gemma remembering that we had her luggage, so Matt and Gemma came into town to pick it, we eventually got into our BnB, it was nearly 4pm. It had been a long day. Our BnB was a Wine BnB and it was incredibly cool. A building over 500 years old done up by the owner who was an architect. We were shown our rooms, where we oohed and ahhed at the incredible spaciousness of them and then I suggested that we go for an easy ride to spin our long day out of our legs.
We messaged Matt and met him in the square in the middle of town and went for an easy spin, it was a great way to wind up the day, and the scenery was beautiful, so a few photo stops were warranted. It was just a short flat ride, we called out let us know what time dinner is as Matt turned off and rode back to our cool digs.
Matt messaged that dinner was at 7, so we showered got dressed and then the three of us headed into the squares, which was 300 metres away from our BnB, for a pre-dinner drink. Paul and I had a Campari spritz, Phil had a beer and we settled into being in Sondrio.
Before we knew it it was nearly 7 and walked around to the restaurant, Il Locale, and bumped into the others on the way. I already knew what I was having for dinner, as five years earlier when in Sondrio I had tried the local pasta dish, Pizzocheri, and was hanging out to try it again. They needed a minimum of two people to order it for it to be worth their while, thankfully both Paul and Matt also ordered it. The prosecco I had with dinner was probably the best prosecco I have ever had, the pizzoccheri was good, but not as good as I remembered, but I was happy to have it. For starters we shared for the table a plate of Sciat (pronounced Shat) another local dish, which is cheese deep fried in buckwheat flour. I expected to love it, but it was only okay. It was a good night, our waiter wanted to talk at length about his love of Australia and the weather with Matt and at length about the singer Sia to me, including singing her songs to me. So it made for an interesting evening.
Again, another not late, but not early, chatty evening and we said our goodbyes see you tomorrow in Bormio.
Our BnB has emailed me the night before to see what time we wanted breakfast, we opted for 8 so that we had time to re-pack and be organised for the drive to Bormio. Instead we just had a lazy morning, boosted by an Italian man singing while moving his car out on the street below.
Breakfast was served in the wine tasting room downstairs, which was a very cool funky room. We paid our city tax, which is anywhere between 1-3 Euro, this time it was 2, and said we would check out at 10. Pack to the room, showered and packed and I went for a walk back into the square to enjoy the streets and while I was there I managed to buy two jumpers as it was a tad cool and the forecast for Bormio had a few cool days ahead.
I got back to the BnB just before 10 to say Grazia and Ciao to our host and Paul and Phil had packed the car – off to Bormio.
The drive to Bormio was a couple of hours, we found parking right near the hotel we were booked at, found a sports clothes shop to look through while we waited for Matt, Melinda and Gemma to arrive, Ali was staying with her cousin in Sondrio for the couple of days in Bormio.
We checked into our hotel, Hotel Funivia, a hotel that caters to cyclists and skiers, squeezed the love bus into the parking area provided, had the bike storage area explained to us, unpacked the bus, bikes in the bike room, suitcases in our room, with great views of the mountains, and we met downstairs for a light late lunch that was provided as part of our accommodation p,ackage. Over lunch we decided to go for a ride. The decision was to go up the Stelvio. The Stelvio is the one mountain that is on my list of hills I want to ride up. Doing the Stelvio today did not suit me for several reasons but I headed out on the ride with them.
We met downstairs after lunch, ready to ride, in the bike room. In less than three kilometres we were at the base of the climb, not an ideal warm up. By the 10km mark, I told Paul that I was not going to the top, said goodbye and headed back down. Due to all the hairpins, the descent was not as fast as I was hoping for, in addition to that there are five tunnels that you need to ride through which while not difficult do slow you down a touch. I got to the bottom, and told the Stelvio, I would be back.
I snuck back into my hotel room, I needed to just hang out by myself for a bit. I washed my hair, donned the hotel white robe, took some photos of the view and fell asleep for about 30 minutes. I must have needed it as I was out like a light.
When Paul got back he told me about the rest of the climb, all the hard bits, what it was like at the top. After he was showered we headed downstairs to meet the others to go into town for dinner. We found a great pizzeria, Gemma has seen it while out on her walk, and we ended our day in the usual eating and talking way. Plus gelato on the walk home.
Breakfast was served downstairs from 7.30, Gemma messaged to say she had our table and we made our way down. Standard Italian hotel breakfast affair, so I was less than excited. And I had my own private ride plans for the day, and if I eat bread before hard riding it messes my breathing up, so I avoided the delicious looking grainy rye bread that was on offer and had some (yet again) ham and boiled eggs for breakfast. As my plans for day, would require a lot of energy, I knew I had to eat more, I surveyed the breakfast bar and then broke my croissant rule, took a small croissant and spoon of Nutella and ate that.
Meanwhile Matt had managed to organise to get him, Phil and Paul onto a ride organised by the hotel that would take them up the Mortirolo and Gavia, in my current state of not outstanding health, this was not an option for me and I had my own challenge to undertake.
After the boys left, I hung out in the hotel room for a while as it was still pretty cool outside, so I waited for what I thought would be the perfect temperature, packed a small back pack with warm clothes and a small sandwich that was in a bowl on the breakfast table for us to take for fuel on our rides.
I headed off just after 10, and rode to the base of the Stelvio, and I climbed, and I climbed. And I gave myself permission to stop whenever I wanted to to take photos and let it all soak in. my first stop was at the 10 kilometre mark about 700 metres up. I had a gel, breathed in the enormity of this mountain and continued on my way. For a non-climber from the flat lands of Perth, this was a big deal for me. My next stop was for a breather after a 14% pinch of gradient, I stopped on the opposite side of the curve of the hairpin along with some other guys that I was slowly catching. We chatted in mixed languages and then I got moving, I could see a bus coming and I didn’t want to be in the way, depending on how much of the curve it needed to swing into. My next stop was for a photo stop, as I looked back down over the switchbacks I had climbed, I was confident that I wasn’t going to forget how it looked, but I wanted a photo to make sure.
The boys had told me how hard the last 3 kilometres where and I was gearing myself for that. I stopped with 5 to go and had another gel, made the most of the little bit of “easy” climbing and then hit the 3 to go. The hardest was from 3 to 2 and with 2kms to go I stopped again, to look up, I could see the top. I could see snow on the peaks. As I got closer I saw something white in the gutter, and I thought, ‘what’s that white fluffy cat doing there?’, then I realised it was snow, how exciting, I still would love to see real snow, for now this was as close as it was going to get. It was all so amazing. It is hard to fathom, how long 2 kilometres can really take. I was ‘21 kilometres in and it had taken an incredibly long time. With 500 metres to go, the road is full of writing, saying great things like “one more push”, “nearly there”, “smile, you’ve made it”, it was fabulous and uplifting. As I crossed the last bit of the mountain pass, the invisible ‘finish’ line, there were about 5 guys sitting on a bench and they clapped and cheered me congratulations, which was cool. 23 kilometres and just over 1500 metres later, I was there. I took time to look at down the other side of the mountain, and then fiund a bench to sit on to put my warm clothes on for the descent; I put on arm warmers, knee warmers, head band, long sleeve jacket, gillet, shoe covers and long gloves. I ate my sandwich quarter, white bread and cheese and I have to say it was disgusting, but I forced it down. And then started the descent. I stopped a couple of times on the way down to make sure I had all the right photos, and what took me just over 2 hours to get up took about 40 minutes to get back down.
Back at the hotel, I was a bit chuffed with myself, so I checked in on Facebook to share the news, showered and then messaged Gemma and Melinda to ask if they knew what time the hotel light lunch was as I was getting pretty hungry. Gemma went to find out and messaged back not until 2.30, 40ish minutes away. I wasn’t too perturbed as I figured that it would take me about that long to muster the energy to get dressed.
I met Gemma and Melinda downstairs and was super glad that on the lunch buffet today was a penne pasta tuna salad, perfect! I had a truck of water and some bread with it, while the three of us chatted, we swapped stories from our morning. After lunch I said that I might go and have a nap, but before that I wanted to go to the sports store to check out some glittery track pants that for some evil reason had caught my eye. Gemma and I both tried them on, and while we liked the idea of them, they weren’t quite right, and they were far too expensive for something that wasn’t quite right.
As we left the store, Gemma and Melinda persuaded me to come with them to a coffee shop that Gemma had found on one of her walks. I joined them and we sat outside the café, Gemma had an espresso and Melinda and I both had a crazily good Italian thick mud hot chocolate. We talked smack for ages and then Gemma suggested that we all have a prosecco, after all it was after 4! Melinda and I got on board with the idea and Gemma ordered while we moved tables to get away from the smokers nearby.
We made our way through the streets of Bormio, checking out a few shops on the way, Gemma bought a pair of shoes, we got back to the hotel by about 5.30 and I said I wanted to go downstairs to the café bar under the hotel to look at the cycling gear for sale, I needed to figure out if I wanted a Stelvio experience jersey.
We then sat in the bar, waters all round and continued to chat, talked to some strangers as they came through, and while we were there the guys messaged to say that they were back and were going into the bar, we messaged back that that’s where we were. They joined us, ordered drinks, at which stage Gemma and I thought that a Campari spritz was in order. While in the bard chatting we had also done some research on where to go for dinner, Gemma rang and booked a table for us.
We listened to the guys tell us all about their mammoth day, they showed us photos and shared some stats, and then it was time to shower and dress to head out for dinner.
Dinner was quite a walk, up a bit of a hill, which seemed ridiculously hard on sore legs. We all shared a plate of Sciat, which was considerably better than the one I tried in Sondrio, and I had steak and salad for dinner. The service was a bit weird, but the steak was good. And we were all given a complimentary limoncillo after our meals.
We walked back through the picturesque streets of Bormio, more photos, Paul and Phil had a gelato stop, and we got back to the hotel with great plans for the next day.
Today was a no bike day for everyone. I woke up feeling better than I had for a week, which was a pleasant surprise. Paul and I headed downstairs earlier than breakfast time as the wi-fi in the hotel was crap, but particularly shit in the rooms, the best place was down in the lounge area near the dining room. We had banking and bills to take care of. Boring domestic stuff done and we headed in for breakfast. As I wasn’t riding today, I cut myself some ridiculously good looking grainy bread and went to the stupidly slow roll over toaster, I put my bread through 8 times until it was mostly toasted. To add to the excitement, the hotel had vegemite so I was able to have vegemite on toast for my breakfast, I was very happy! Small things.
Then we were off to the thermal baths. After heading upstairs and grabbing bathers and bags etc, we drove to Bormio’s thermal baths. Bormio has old baths and new baths. We wanted to go to the old baths, Matt had been there before and he suggested that we go. The old baths are very old, and roman emperors used to bathe there. It’s all very historical and old, and amazing and surrounded by the most beautiful vistas.
We spent nearly five hours there, which included a lunch break, in our bath robes.
When you enter the bath reception, you pay an entry fee of 43 euro per person. You get given a bath robe, a towel and a pair of thongs (if you didn’t bring your own). So we all got our robes and towels, thongs for those that needed them, we went to the change rooms to get changed into bathers and regrouped in bath robes back in the main lobby. When we paid the woman at the counter had advised that we start with the outside infinity bath as this is the best way to get your body to start acclimatising to the water temperature. The bath was 36 degrees. The views were bloody incredible. It’s a big very warm pool. After some time of relaxing, tasking photos and breathing in our surroundings, we decided to move on to a different bath. This time the Roman baths, where emperors had once bathed. These baths were inside an old stone building and we stepped down into the historical stone into the warm water. It was obvious then why it was recommended to start with the outside pool. The water was the same temperature, but felt so much warmer without the air around us.
Very warm and now very relaxed, we slowly made our way back to the main building and down some stairs where we found a large area of different spas and saunas. And some screaming dun of freezing cold hydrojets, where the recommend time to stand in them was 5 minutes. I lasted 10 seconds. On the wall was a swing bucket to pull freezing cold water down, which Paul too great delight in tipping on a few of us.
The first sauna was very spacious and had a window overlooking the mountains. There was apples, oranges, cloves and star anise on the hot sauna plate to give the sauna a really warm fragrance. The sauna was 60 degrees and surprisingly pleasant. Paul found it a bit warm and we made our way out, through the freezing hydrojets again just for fun and walked on until we got to a Finnish sauna. The Finnish sauna had sauna 1 and 2, and outside a 5 degree cold plunge bucket. The suggestion was 5 minutes in sauna 1, 10 seconds in the cold bucket, 3 minutes in sauna 2 and then another 10 seconds in the freezing bucket. Matt had gone to find Melinda who had gone to a relaxing room, Gemma and I hung our robes up and went into sauna 1. Sauna 1 was 70 degrees. We flipped the timer on the wall to start our 5 minutes. Paul and Phil joined us after a minute. Phil said he had felt the water in the bucket and would give anyone who could sit in it for 20 seconds 20 euro. I felt that I was up for the challenge. But first I had to do my time in the sauna. Gemma cracked at 3 minutes and left the sauna. Paul and Phil both bailed as well. I then got given the hurry up as everyone suddenly decided that it was time to go for lunch and waiting one whole minute more was out of the question. So I left the sauna and stepped into the 5 degree bucket, the challenge was to sit down so my whole body was submersed. So I did, without a sound and just sat there for 20 seconds taking deep breaths. Mind over matter. It was surprisingly easy. And I felt incredible after. I had a cheer squad, Gemma was doing her best cheerleader impersonation, and there was a loud shush from a nearby relaxing room. Crazy design to put a quiet relaxing room near a freezing cold bucket!
Robes on and off to lunch. We paid for lunch at reception and were given fresh robes as part of our lunch price, which was handy as our robes were getting a bit wet now. The lunch room was a buffet spread of salads and cheeses, a big table on breads and cakes and a hot buffet on the far side. I had a bowl of polenta and beef stew which was really yummy. It was quite funny sitting in a big dining room full of strangers all in our bath robes.
After lunch, Phil had booked a massage and went off for that and the rest of us went to a place called the grotto, which was an underground bath, we walked through a bit of a tunnel through to the bath, it was a long narrow bath. Due to the thickness of the air combined with the water, the sign said to not go in there alone and to only stay in for a maximum of 10 minutes. We stayed about 5. Had a little look into the other tunnel and then came out and I rubbed my shin. The sign at the front of the grotto said that rubbing your shin after helped to energise your body.
Then we went in search of the imperial baths that we had seen a sign for when we were in the sauna area. We found a very cool bath that had waterfalls falling off the stone. Melinda and I sat under the water so that it was like a curtain in front of us. At the waterfall next to us, Paul and Matt sat directly under it so that the water fell onto their backs. This seemed like a good idea to me, so I moved so that the water fell onto my shoulders and back, it was like a really good massage. From there we went to the Women’s Only baths, which had underground music and mood lighting for relaxation. They were no longer women only baths, but hundreds of years ago, when segregation was strong, women had to stay separate from men at the baths. I am confident that back then they didn’t have music and lighting though…..
We decided that we should finish our day of bathing back in the outside infinity pool for the magnificent views and to commit it all to memory. On the way back to the change rooms we stuck our head into a relaxing lounge, which had a TV and sun lounges. The lounge next door was far more appealing, it had comfortable almost chaise lounges and a beautiful balcony overlooking the grounds, the infinity pool and looking up at the breathtaking mountains. The room also had a lovely relaxing aroma. Melinda, Gemma and I decided to stay and lay on the lounges and relax a bit (to help wind down from the hard day so far!), we lay there for about 15 minutes relaxing and chatting, and finally headed back to the change room to go back to reality. Well holiday reality.
We left the baths just after 3 pm, feeling relaxed and refreshed. Unless you think about the fact that you just spent a day sitting in warm water with a bunch of strangers. Shaking that off and trusting on the treatment of the water, we had a fabulous day.
Matt, Melinda and Gemma were due to drive back to Sondrio, Paul, Phil and I had one more night in Bormio. Paul and Phil and done the iconic climbs in the area that they wanted to for this trip, I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to do all that I wanted to, but as a friend said to me, those mountains aren’t going anywhere and I can always come back.
We waved goodbye to the others and then Paul rode to a nearby bike shop as he needed new brake pads, I headed for shower to wash off the baths, and lay on the bed with a face mask that I had bought at the baths and plied myself with oodles of moisturiser as the baths had been quite drying.
We finished our day with a wander through Bormio, mooched the shops, Paul bought some souvenir t-shirts. Later we met up in the downstairs cyclists bar for a drink, caught up with a couple from Perth that were over for the UCI race and had just done the Stelvio that day. And then we went for dinner at a nearby steakhouse.
The steakhouse had an American influenced theme, they played bad country music, but the food was great. The service was German Italian and very firm. When I was asked if I wanted frites or paatas with me meat, I said neither and I was given a very stern not negotiable “it comes with it” response, I was too scared to argue so I said yes to the patatas. Which were really good. Paul said his burger was fabulous and Phil’s steak was the best steak he has had ALL year. Nice to leave Bormio on a good food high note.
We woke up to our delicious views to see that the mountains were covered in mist. It was a cool morning and I decided to wear warm leggings and a jumper (thanks to that quick bit of shopping in Sondrio on Tuesday morning). At breakfast (over vegemite on toast for me, and cakes and croissants for Paul and Phil) we discussed the road trip plan for the day. We were heading back to Sondrio for two nights but the plan was to take all day getting there. We wanted to do some driving to the mountain passes.
We packed up the Euro Love Bus, said goodbye to Hotel Funivia and drove in search of mountains. First stop was the top of the Gavia. We drove up, the way that the boys had ridden down. It would have been a gnarly descent. It was 27 kilometres to the top, we got out and it was freezing and wet. The misty morning wasn’t going anywhere soon and there was a fair bit of drizzle to go with it. Phil suggested we have a hot chocolate while we were there. They weren’t the normal thick gooey hot chocolate of Italy, but they were warm and still very yummy. Paul bought another t-shirt and I bought some cute very warm socks for when winter returns to Perth.
Once back down in Bormio, we drove up to the top of the Stelvio. It was still very cold, there was a little bit of snow lying around, which triggered my I really want to see real snow ambition. Paul bought a t-shirt. I toyed with buying a bratwurst sausage which smelt amazing, but gave it a miss. We revised our plan, as we had originally decided to drive down the other side of the mountain to Switzerland and park and ride back up and down to say that we had done the other side of the Stelvio. A time check, as Matt had messaged us to say that due to a car rally in the village, that the road to our hotel would be closed from 4-7 and then 7.30-11, if we rode the mountain we would not get there by 4. The wintery weather also was a contributing factor. New plan was to drive through Switzerland (the long way) to Sondrio, and get there for just before 4.
We drove down a new descent lots more very narrow and winding roads. It was tight in some places for the bus, and again Paul did a magnificent job, especially when one stubborn person, didn’t pull to the left where they had a wide piece of road and kept driving straight at us so that we were then jammed side by side on the road, the road wasn’t wide enough to go anywhere. As it was the other drivers problem, we let him do the work and manoeuvre himself out of his predicament.
Coming down the hill into Santa Maria was picturesque and I was pretty pleased to get a decent photo through the car window. The road took us through the Swiss National Park and we drove up out of Santa Maria, with the road rising once more.
We stopped in Zernez for lunch, where we learnt that the Swiss don’t use Euros, but we found a little Trattoria that did not take credit card, but did take Euro. We shared a pizza, a strange version of a ceprese salad, and had 3 drinks and it cost 40 Euro! Yikes, a tad expensive. Customer service was light too.
Back on the road, we decided to back track a little as we had gone past a tunnel that would take us through to Livigno , Italy, which we decided was a cool way to go. We waited at the long red light at the tunnel and in we went. It was a very long, very dark, very cool tunnel. When we got to the end there was a massive lake that we stopped to take photos of and look at. We drove into Livigno which is a tax free shopping haven and in winter also a skiing village, we bought petrol, tax free, so instead of 1.70 euro, we paid .94 euro cents a litre. The boys decided to buy ice creams, I had originally said no, but when I saw that there was a toblerone ice cream, I couldn’t not!
We drove on, back into Switzerland, back into Italy and finally got to Sondrio. At just after 4. The road was closed. We asked google maps for an alternative, and got halfway up a narrow hill of a one way street to learn that that too was closed at the top. We took the last available parking spot and I went and spoke to the Polizia to see if they could give me alternative directions. They could not. I messaged Matt and asked if we could come to their apartment until the road re-opened. If and when we could get the love bus off the hill, turned around and out of there. Eventually we did, with Phil and I out of the car, one at the front, one at the back guiding Paul into a spot where he was able to reverse to and then do an eleventy point turn, making sure not to knock over any motor bikes, and then we were able to drive out. Matt and Melinda were less than two kilometres away. We drove to their apartment. Matt rang our hotel to advise them that we would be late chickin gin as the roads were closed. Between Matt’s Italian and the hotel woman’s English, Matt hung up saying he would call back after the conversation ended with us wondering if our room was cancelled. I messaged Gemma and asked if she could help, as we needed some fluent Italian, despite the fact that hotel woman said she spoke VERY GOOD English. A little while later Gemma messaged me to say that our room was not cancelled, the hotel didn’t know anything about the rally and she sent me through directions on how to get there the long way.
After about a 20 minute drive, up a tight hilly narrow road, we arrived at our hotel. Thanks Gemma! We checked in, got changed and went for a walk to get our bearings and have a look around. It didn’t take long, we were in an isolated part of the village Albosaggio just out of Sondrio. We said hello to a fine looking cat, went to the supermarket and read the menu of the restaurant at the hotel. Which had been Michelin star nominated a few times. The menu was quite expensive and as Matt, Melinda, Gemma and Ali wanted to have dinner with us, the menu was not vast enough to cater to everyone. I googled dinner near me, read the reviews on the only option within walking distance, messaged the others that the reviews were okay and we agreed that we would eat at the local trattoria run by Chinese people.
The menu had the standard Italian trattoria food as well as some Chinese noodle and rice dishes. We placed our order after being obviously ignored for quite some time. Placing the order was difficult as the waitress did not appear to be keen on really helping us. I ordered Riso all Cantonese assuming that it would be something similar to fried rice. The meals came out one at a time. Phil had finished his meal by the time mine arrived. Matt had finished his entrée and main while the rest of us were still waiting. Gemma was wondering why it could take so long to cook a piece of chicken and asked the owner, who rudely told her to be patient. Every other table got the standard basket of bread, we did not. People who arrived after us, got their orders taken before we did. And we were picking up on a very strong vibe, of ignore the locals. It was cheap thankfully and we paid 13 euro perp person as we left, vowing to update Trip Advisor with some more accurate reviews.
We walked the family back to their car, told Matt we would message in the morning to let him know what time we would ride to his for a ride, waved goodbye and headed back to our rooms. It had been a very long, amazing road tripping day.
Saturday morning dawned fresh and beautiful. I was starting to feel better on the bike and had suggested we ride up a hill that we had ridden five years ago. Paul, Phil and I rode from our hotel room down a hill that I knew was going to make me sad on the ride back home. We got to Matt’s and the four of us headed out on our ride. Sondrio is a pretty place and the ride didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately the ride up the hill was interrupted with road works and traffic signals to let the traffic go one way in sections. Finally we got to the top and stopped at a café that stepped out practically onto the road. We parked our bikes while Matt ordered for us. And very quickly our coffees and hot chocolates arrived. Now these were next level Italian hot chocolates! We gasped in amazement as they were put on the table and the woman serving us smiled and said ‘Energia! After our energia drinks, we headed back down the hill, past the pretty cows with big bells around their necks making the most wonderful melodies as they walked and ate grass. Matt asked if we wanted to ride up a hill to Monastera, on the way back but we had a deadline as we told the others we would be ready to go sightseeing by lunch time. Matt peeled off at his street and we continued on, up the savage hill that had been so much fun at the start of the ride and back to our hotel.
After a quick shower and into sightseeing clothes we drove to the apartment to talk logistics. Ali suggested we all go in the one car as she was keen for us to spend time together. SO we all pilked in the love bus and headed in the direction of Colico. First though, food, we were starving, Matt made a sensible suggestion that we stop at the food hall just out of Sondrio, the food there had been surprisingly okay and reasonably priced and everyone agreed. Food done and we were on the way. We arrived in Colico , which is a touristy town on Lake Como, it is however over the other side of the lake from Como which means it is nowhere near as touristy as Como. It wasn’t overcrowded and it was a very pretty place. The open piazza area had some market stalls, I pointed out a t-shirt with a hashtag symbol on it, which she bought. We stopped for gelato and then walked up along the lake taking photos and watching Ali try and skip stones on the water.
Matt and Gemma mentioned that they were close to their cousin’s house, so Gemma sent a message to her cousin Elanor and we walked up a hill to pop in for a visit. There were quite a few people there, I got a little confused as to who was who. Ali went to play in the pool with her 6 year old cousin, the rest of us were seated at an outdoor table that had panoramic views of the lake. It was an incredible place. A woman called Donatella, who I think was also a relative brought out prosecco and beer and a jug of water, crisps and nuts and then disappeared inside and came back about 20 minutes later with a plateful of pastry puffs that she had just made, they were very hot straight out of the oven, some were filled with cream cheese, some with salmon and some with sausage. She came back again with a bottle of wine, which under sufferance we agreed to have a drink while we sat on a gorgeous patio on a warm day overlooking Lake Como.
One of the cousins was a cyclist and after Matt mentioned that we had been riding that morning, he was on his phone looking up our ride on Strava to see how fast everyone was. He showed us photos of different things he had done on his bike and while we couldn’t really speak Italian and he didn’t speak much English, we all managed remarkably well to understand each other.
The afternoon disappeared rapidly, we only had parking until 6.30 so just after 6 we started to say our goodbyes and headed back to the car.
We got back to Albosaggia just after 7 and went for dinner at a trattoria that Matt suggested. It was a quite easy dinner, I had grilled vegetables and a vegetable tortilla which was a bit bland, thankfully the veggies were good. Ali was wanting ribs and when her plate arrived it turned out that ribs were actually not ribs and in this case it was a massive T-bone steak. And very undercooked for Ali’s liking. She ate some of it, and made do with a very big serve of chips.
After dinner, Melinda and Gemma decided to walk home, we dropped Matt and Ali off, arranged with Matt to be back on our bikes by 7.30 the next morning for a quick ride before having to be checked out of our hotel by 11.
Back in our room, we got our pre packing done, while I looked for accommodation for the next night.
At breakfast we talked to Phil about my idea for the next part of our road trip, our original plan was to go to Cinque Terre for a night, but I felt that we needed to stay two nights in order to have time to actually have a bit of a look around. Paul and Phil were happy with this suggestion, so now I really needed to find accommodation. I would do it in between getting back from our ride and checking out of our hotel.
We met Matt at 7.30, and headed out, due to time constraints it was decided that we would do the same ride as yesterday, I definitely was not enthused about this plan, it is a great ride, but not one that I felt the need to do back to back. When we got to the base of the climb I said I was turning around, Matt said he was too, I took the car key. We had agreed that we need to be back at the hotel for 10 so Paul and Phil headed up, Matt and I turned around. I asked Matt about the climb up to Monastero that he had mentioned the day before, he said it was short, only 3 kilometres and from memory pretty hard, I suggested we do it. One and a half kilometres in and I was kicking myself, this was one tough hill! I had to stop to take my arm warmers off, as I was over heating. And then kept going. What seemed like forever, I got to the top, at which point I said to Matt. “that sign at the bottom is wrong, it wasn’t 3 kilometres it was 4.1” – very significant when it takes so long. At the top we could see the whole valley and the river. It was fantastic, and I said to Matt that I felt the Paul and Phil would be jealous when they found out. We saw an Australian flag so took a selfie in front of that. And stopped a couple of times on the way down to take photos. The road was rough and pot-holed and narrow, so it wasn’t a fun descent. As we turned back onto the main road at the bottom, I commented to Matt that it wouldn’t be long until the boys caught up with us, at which point I heard bike coming up behi9nd us, and there they were! Because of the time, they had not gone all the way to the top, which is why they caught up with us earlier than anticipated. We rode back to Albosaggio and made it back to the hotel by just after 10. A little behind our schedule but still leaving us plenty of time, we headed upstairs to finish packing and shower. I tried to book our Cinque Terre accommodation but the place I found the night before was now booked. Back to the drawing board, and the clock was ticking on me as we had to check out soon. Finding something had an extra degree of difficulty as we had the Euro Love Bus to factor in, I had read that parking in towns for the Cinque Terre was, in some, impossible, unavailable and in others you needed to reserve and pay for.
It got to just before 11 and we had to head downstairs and check out. We drove to Matt and Melina’s as we had promised come and say good-bye on our way out and I asked if I good use their wi-fi and I finalised the accommodation search. In the end I went for something a little more expensive, but with four bikes in the back of the love bus, I need to make sure that we had safe parking. Hotel booked, goodbyes and see youse in Perth said, and we were on the road again.
En route to Lavento at the end of the Cinque Terre, we were going to go via Ballaggio to go the Madonna Ghisallo church and to the cycling museum. Paul and I had been before, but it was ridiculous for Phil to be so close and not get there. We stopped for lunch on the way at a town on a lake, where we were able to get parking for the bus. I had been fantasising about a grainy rye bread chicken and salad with beetroot and avocado sandwich, I knew that was a pretty unrealistic lunch fantasy for Italy, but hey, a girl can dream. I ended up with a chicken and salad and egg club sandwich and the bread was toasted. It was okay interesting. I checked out the lake, watched a newly married couple have photos, Paul and Phil had gelato and then it was back to the car to keep on trucking.
Our next stop was at an Auto Grill on the freeway as Paul felt that lollies were needed for the remainder of the drive. Lollies and drinks purchased and on we went. It was a long drive to Lavento from Sondrio, we went through lots of tunnels and as we wound down to the coast the roads had countless bends to keep Paul on his toes. We followed the Waze directions to the hotel and up a very (very very) steep long driveway to the hotel, of course it wasn’t a straight driveway and the bus had to be swung around two bends. We parked and went in to check in. Chiara who checked us in was outstanding. She was professional and friendly, showed us to our rooms, explained a few things, opened the shutters and windows for us, and then said when we came downstairs she would tell us a few more things. When we headed down, she told us about the shuttle bus into town service, showed us where the pool was, explained the bar and breakfast details and then checked if the big bus was ours. When we said it was she took us out to the car park and explained that we could have a specific parking spot that would give us better space and also not be in anyone’s way.
We talked about dinner plans and decided as the hotel only did bar snacks that we would drive, rather than use the shuttle bus, into town and find somewhere to eat. We showered and dressed for dinner and drove into town, which was only about 3 kilometres, but due to the terrain and the very steep hills to get back, walking was not going to happen.
We found parking in town by the beach and wandered around looking at various places until we settled on one that we liked the look of.
Being so close to the sea, I was definitely going to be having something with a seafood theme. Paul had a raw swordfish and tomato starter. I wanted seafood risotto, but it needed an order of two people, and lucky for me, Phil felt like it too, so that was our meal. Paul had house made ravioli with bolognaise sauce that he raved enthusiastically about. The seafood risotto was mouth-wateringly delicious. It was so good! We said no thank you to the dessert menu and on our walk back through town to the car, we stopped for gelato.
Back at the hotel, Phil suggested we have a post dinner drink. The bar was open until 11 and Paul and I thought it was a great idea. The bar just meant that we sat at the table and chairs on the terrace that looked out to the mountains and down to the sea, ordered a drink with table service and they brought it out to us. It was a perfect way to end the day.
Breakfast at our hotel didn’t start until 8, which meant that after a late night we got to have a sleep in. Of course with magical sweeping views and the window open all night, I was awake early and just enjoyed the sensation of sleeping inside while it looked like I was outside. We showered and headed down to breakfast just as they opened up, which meant that we got to big, without a doubt, the best table on the breakfast terrace.
After breakfast we asked about the shuttle bus to go into the train station, and they were all booked except the one at 8.45. We were asking at 8.35, we looked at each other and agreed it was doable and raced up to our rooms to grab a bag and put handy things like sunscreen and water in. At the train station we bought a Cinque Terre day pass for the train, and ran to Platform 3 to catch the 9.05. Given that there were five villages, we agreed that we would get off at each one to have look around.
The first stop was Monterosso al Mare. It is absolutely amazing to walk out of a train station onto the beach front. Incredible. There right in front of us was the Mediterranean Sea. The beach was filled with different coloured umbrellas that you could pay lots of euro to sit under, they were orderly straight lines. It was still early, just 9.15, so the beach was not overly busy. We walked up along the walkway over looking the beach and into the historico centro. The town was beautiful. We strolled through the streets looking at the bright colourful buildings and lots of lemon products, lemon soap, lemon lollies, limoncillo, lemon slushies, so much lemon! We walked back to the train station a different way, through a tunnel, there were little windows in the tunnel that had arty displays in them showing different things that the area was renowned for.
Back on the train, the next stop, Vernazza, was a little port, lots of coloured boats and much smaller town area, and more lemon products. The third stop, Corniglia, was quite a distance from the train station. We followed everyone else, along a ramp and could see up ahead that there was a tower of stairs, zigzagging its way up a hill to where the town site was. Paul moaned, are you kidding me, and we started climbing. It was quite hot by now and there was a lot of steps, 33 flights, 382 steps apparently. At the top, you could go left or straight into the centre, we went straight, which was more uphill until we got to a church and then headed left and down through to the centre. The laneway streets were narrow and packed with people and colourful shops. And more lemon. The town was bigger than it seemed, eventually satisfied that we had seen as much as we could, we made our way back to the steps to climb back down.
The next stop, Manarola, was only two minutes on the train. It was really busy, tourists everywhere. We could turn left (downhill) or right (uphill), I voted that we go right, so up another hill we went, all the way to the top. Another church, more amazing views of the ocean and then made our way down the hill and kept heading down until we reached the water. A couple more photos, and then the request came from Paul that when we got the next village we would have lunch. Phil asked why we had to wait that long, so we went in search of somewhere to eat. I put Paul and Phil in charge of choosing where to eat as I felt that I had been making decisions all day and I may have been running the risk of becoming bossy bitch for the day. They found a restaurant and in we went. I ordered the grilled tuna with grilled vegetables, Paul ordered the swordfish burger, and Phil the warm octopus with potato. Lunch was delicious and I was yet again grateful that I had finally learnt to like tuna in the last 15 months.
Refuelled, we headed to the train to go the final village on our high paced Cinque Terre tour. We got to Riomaggiore, and this one was more spread out, there was more uphill walking, which just about cracked Paul, there was a castle, but it wasn’t open, I went in to the church while the boys had gelato and then it was time to make our way back. We decided to catch the train to the final destination on the line, La Spezia, not part of the Cinque Terre, but you can go there, so we did. We probably should have done our research on that one, as we got there couldn’t get a vibe, combined with fatigue from our lots of walking and climbing day, we turned back, got on the train and went back to Lavento. We were lucky to find a taxi as soon as we walked out of the train station, 10 euro and we were back at the hotel. Paul suggested that we hit the pool. I was desperate for a shower having spent the last seven hours doing a lot of sweating and I wanted to get our next lot of accommodation researched and booked, I said I would meet him down there.
Walking down to the pool was well worth it, it had an infinity edge overlooking the hill of olive trees down to the ocean. It was quite cool, but very refreshing. We lay on sunbeds, in the shade, with an umbrella just chilling. We never saw Phil, so we assumed he was having a nap.
We made our way back up to the hotel and sat on the terrace with a prosecco enjoying the warmth and beauty around us. Before long we were pretty hungry, so we showered, messaged Phil for dinner plans, booked the shuttle bus and got dropped off in town.
The sun was on the way down by the ocean and we went in search of food. Being a Monday we discovered that a lot of places were closed. We ended up at a restaurant that was attached to a hotel. Swordfish and grilled vegetables, Paul and Phil had steak and we ate our last dinner in Italy (for this trip) with a great bottle of local wine.
Due to our great success with the taxi earlier in the day, it didn’t occur to us that we would have a problem getting one. But we were wrong. We walked to the train station thinking that there would be one there, there wasn’t. We couldn’t find a phone number that would work to call one. And the call was made that we would walk back. This was bound to be interesting and long. Off we set.
At a petrol station not far down the road, Paul pointed out a white van with a guy cleaning it, I called out to him and asked if he was a taxi, bingo, he was! He was very nice and said he had been at the train station and had left there as it was so quite to go and clean his car. Such a relief to find him!
He dropped us off and we decided to farewell our last night in Italy with a post dinner drink on the terrace in the warm air looking out to the mountains and hearing the nearby clock chime on the hour.
We knew we had a big day of driving today. So we got to the breakfast room in time for them to open up. I went and grabbed “our” table, and we enjoyed the great views again. Before long we were packed, checked out and on the road again. Destination, Perpignan France for two nights. The plan was to stop in Nice for lunch.
On the way we had to go through Genova, where the bridge collapsed two months ago. So the detour through town is a tad messy and very busy re-routing all that traffic through the town. It was very confronting to see parts of a broken bridge that just recently was the cause of tragedy.
Out of Genova and back on the main roads, Paul asked if we go through Monte Carlo, Phil (who is the appointed navigator) checked the map and said it was on the way and easy enough to go through. We all agreed that that was a fabulous idea. Driving down was a bit of wow factor, and we stopped for an aerial shot from up the hill. As we got closer it got tighter and more narrow and harder to navigate. And the Monte Carlo parking was not kind to the needs of the love bus. So it was a little anti-climactic as we were not able to have lunch or really stop at all, except for a quick, stop here so I could snap a couple of super quick photos. We drove out of Monte Carlo a little jaded, and now quite hungry. Paul was keen to not go through the whole trying to park the love bus palaver again in Nice, so to minimise stress and keep the day simple, I jokingly suggested McDonalds, and before long I saw one that was really easy for us to pull into. And so the McDonalds decision was made.
We don’t eat McDonalds very often at all, on the rare occasions that we do, it’s always pretty average. This time the bar on average McDonalds was lowered even more. But it ticked the parking box and we were fed and back on the road in good time.
The drive on to Perpignan was mostly uneventful. Tiring and long, the tolls were many and we started the day paying 1-3 euro and we peaked with a 23 euro toll, all up we paid over 90 euro of tolls. Funnily we saved 3 euro. When exiting Genova, we went through the telepass toll which means we didn’t collect a ticket, at the next toll, we explained that we were dumb and didn’t get a ticket at Genova, the woman at the toll gate was really nice and understanding, and asked if we would be paying card or cash. Paul said cash. She went and pushed toll buttons and came back with a ticket and said that would be 19.50, we pooled all the euros we had and only had about 16.40, we asked if we could pay with card, she said no, we had said cash and that’s what we were being charged. We were at a stand off. She stared at us, we looked back, genuinely sorry, but penniless. It was a tad awkward. Eventually she asked how much we had. Paul counted the money into her hand. She handed back a 2c coin. She accepted our not enough payment of just over 16 euro and opened the boom gate. We continued on. Lesson learned.
Driving into Perpignan, we saw a lot of wind farms, some of the windmills were massive. The landscape was drier than where we had been through Italy and more desolate. We could see the mountains of the Pyrenees looming in the distance, the real reason for coming to Perpignan, which is at the base of the Pyrenees National Park. Which of course meant that there were big hills to ride up.
We finally got to our hotel by about 730, it had been a long day. We checked in, muddled through the language barrier, my French is significantly worse than my very poor Italian. We unpacked the car and assessed our surroundings. We were out of the city by about 4 kilometres and opted to eat at the hotel for the evening. They had a 19 euro set menu which was okay. Even if the guy running the bar was horrified that we wanted white wine when we were eating duck. He got over it and delivered the wine in good time. And a very good wine it was too.
With such a long day, we didn’t finish dinner until well after 9.30, it was safe to say we were now very definitely on Euro time. Over dinner we looked at maps on our phones to make a ride plan for the morning. And after dinner and heading to bed late we agreed Euro time was good and we would meet for breakfast at 8. Paul was fighting a resurgence of a chest infection, I was feeling like I had the start of a head cold and a sleep in seemed wise.
I woke with a full blown head cold, stuffed up and a cracker headache – fabulous. Paul was coughing but we were in France and had a col to climb. The breakfast room revealed that things hadn’t really improved much on the breakfast selection, with the exception that the croissants were better, less sugary than Italian croissants. We settled on the final plan for the ride for the day, and headed off in the car for a 40 minute drive to find somewhere to park and ride in search of Col de Jau, a 22 kilometre constant climb – my favourite sort.
The ride was beautiful. Long and slow, and very very warm. With one kilometre markers all the way up and each marker signed to show the average grade of the next kilometre. It was doing my head in, I kept seeing 7 and 8% and was dreaming of 3%’s.
We rode through little villages and some narrow roads, past some cleaning the mountain work where the tractor was clearing branches and knocking rocks down while doing so. We made our way past that one. Stopped for the occasional look around breathers. Stopped at a stream to fill our water bottles and kept going onward and upward. At the top we stopped to do a map check to see if we could go across and around back to our car instead of back down the way we came. We couldn’t figure out a path that was straight forward so opted to go back down. I found the descent difficult as my lack of breathing and pounding head was playing havoc with my ability to relax and I felt that I need more concentration on what I was doing. So I did not fly down the hill. We got to the bottom and found our way, without incident, back to the car. On the way back to Perpignan we decided to stop at a supermarket near our hotel to buy some lunch, as starvation was nigh. We found a decent selection of salads and sandwiches, bought our supplies and went back to the hotel to eat and shower. And in my case, take Panadol.
We decided to do a laundromat run, one of the evil necessities of travelling. Our hotel was limited on space for hand washing, and we went in search of the laundromat. With the thought that once we are in the city centre, we can leave the clothes to wash and go for a look around. It was after 4 by the time we found some dodgy parking for the Euro Love Bus, and went in to wash our clothes. As seems to always be the case on our travels, laundromats are always in very dodgy areas. We decided against exploring the area as it really didn’t have much appeal and the medieval historic stuff was not in cooee of the laundromat. We found a café and had a cold drink to while away the washing minutes and slowly made our way back to retrieve our clothes. Perpignan was dirty and busy and our desire to go exploring was minimal, we opted instead to just go back to the hotel to turn our rooms into laundry airing space.
Before long hunger hit, our salads were not long lasting and with our recent foray into the city we were not feeling adventurous and stayed boring and hung at the hotel for dinner again. The set menu had changed and was reasonable priced. We asked to sit inside the restaurant this time as sitting outside last night mean that we got to eat our dinner with everyone’s cigarette smoke. It was awful. It was much nicer inside, and the set menu was nice and we watch a fabulous sky show as a storm hit – sending Paul racing upstairs to get our drying, now wet, laundry off the balcony.
With the next day being our last day driving, we needed to back our bikes into the bike bags and organise our luggage better. We planned to meet at 7 in the morning to start the morning with packing bikes, headed to bed after rearranging our creative hanging of wet stuff.
Up before 7, my cold was giving me grief and I was struggling to breathe. We rearranged the pack bike time to 7.15, as it was still too dark at 7. And headed down to the car to take up space in the car park packing bikes. All our bike bags and bikes out of the car and we settled to work. In less than 30 minutes we had packed and re-tetris-ed the back of the bus and headed back upstairs to shower, breakfast and pack everything else.
We left the hotel, 30 minutes ahead of schedule, even with manoeuvring the bus out of a very tough spot thanks to some inconsiderate parking of others. We got out unscathed and had time to stop at a massive bike shop to have a quick look around. And then, we were on the road again.
The drive was uneventful, Paul drove, Phil navigated, I typed away on my Surface Pro, keeping my diary up to date. We drove out of France and into Spain and as we did the landscape began to change again. We stopped for petrol and before long we were arriving at the airport, following the signs to hire car drop off and then found trolleys to lug all our luggage to where we were due to be picked up for the next part of the trip.
We got to the arrivals hall at Terminal 1 at Barcelona Aerporto, bought a very average, yet incredibly expensive lunch of bad sandwiches and water, and met our tour guide. We had signed up to do a three day tour with Sports International for the last three days. They were picking us and four others up at Barcelona airport with our bikes and luggage and driving us to Andorra where we would meet the rest of the group that had been following the Vuelta A Espana (Tour of Spain road race) for the last two weeks.
It promised to be an exciting three days, the guide that we had been emailed had the days very well planned and the itinerary looked great. On the first night we would meet everyone else, have dinner and be briefed on the proceedings for the next day. Day one was a choice of two guided rides, both with great degrees of difficulty, one shorter than the other and with both of them finishing at the top of the hill where the Vuelta stage would finish. We would be given VIP access for the hospitality tent and the support van would take our bags up for us so that we could get changed, they would provide lunch and snacks and then we would ride back down the mountain. Day Two was also well planned with morning guided rides and then hospitality at the finish line.
The seven of us met at Barcelona and Dave our driver drove us to Andorra. Paul, Phil and I were the only ones with bikes, the other two that were riding had hire bikes and there were two more not riding, who were there for the holiday component.
On the drive we chatted and watched the scenery, arrived, checked in, learnt that the bike room was less than ideal for storing our bikes and decided to keep them in our hotel rooms. Thankfully our rooms were lovely and spacious so we had more than enough room to unpack and build bikes and store it all. After we built our bikes, we messaged Phil to see if he wanted to go for a walk. It was nearly 6 and dinner wasn’t until 8, we were all meeting in the bar downstairs at 7.30 for the briefing.
Paul Phil and I headed out to explore the streets. Andorra is beautiful. And so clean. We walked down the mall that went FOREVER! So much shopping. This place is a shoppers dream. There were people everywhere carrying lots of shopping bags. We didn’t shop, we looked.
We got back to the hotel for the 7.30 briefing and went to the bar, we were among the first to arrive. We bought some very cheap drinks, at a bar where the hotel sparkling wine is Moet & Chandon champagne and sat and chatted to await the briefing. Just before 8, they gathered us all up to tell us not a lot about the next day and were unable to answer any real questions when pushed for detail. They then told us that we could go upstairs to the restaurant for dinner. Dinner was a buffet of fine, average, not great food, and there was no briefing. At about 9.30 someone came and told us that they had created a WhatsApp group and would message thought the details. Ride start would be at 10 in the morning. Oh and that we would need our accreditation to get into the hospitality tent. They didn’t have ours though and would give it to us the next morning.
We had a nice evening chatting, met others in the group who were very pushy and demanding and went to bed a little dubious of how well organised things actually were and how the dynamics of the group would play out.
Another late start, we met at breakfast at 8 and then downstairs ready to ride ten minutes before the ride start, to meet the guides, find our preferred group, based on the ride details and get started. Wishful thinking on our behalf, the morning was chaotic. The people running the tour weren’t running anything. Some of the group were harassing the guide with things like; “we don’t want to go that far, we don’t want to do this, we want to do such and such”, the rest of us sighed inwardly and kept our distance. All the clear detailed information in the communications emailed to us seemed to be all fiction, there was a strong flavour of no organisation and nobody really knowing what we were doing. After an interesting 40 minutes, a tantrum from one woman, some muttering and whingeing, we eventually rode out as one group, and 4kms down the road, stopped and the group doing one climb went straight, and the group doing two climbs turned right. I went with Paul and Phil with the two climb group. I knew that I would be the slowest, but I was there for the experience and I had checked the day before and was advised that we would be regrouping and that there would be someone from the tour group riding at the back to make sure everyone was okay. The first kilometre up and the group had started to string out and everyone was finding their own pace and rhythm. Our guide, Alan, had told us that it was a 12 kilometre climb and where it was really really hard and had told us the “easy” bits. Dave, from Sports International, rode past me and said, there is one more behind you and kept on riding. So much for someone riding with those of us at the back.
There was only nine in the group, and from all accounts, Alan, the “guide”, rode off up the front, getting in a good training ride. I reached a fork in the road and stopped to figure out if I should go right or left, thankfully there were road signs and I worked it out and went right. I learnt later that Paul had gone left and rode on for a bit before realising he had taken a wrong turn. Others waited at the fork for people behind them to back up their thoughts on which was the right way.
With 5 kilometres to go, the climbing was getting very hard, I was searching for easier gears, but I was already in my easiest, I was hot, sweating a lot and swearing a lot. My cold was playing havoc with my breathing just to add to it all. With 4 kilometres to go, I cracked and got off my bike ready to have a tantrum. But it really wasn’t going to achieve a lot, so I took some deep breaths, drank my water and tried to let my heart rate go down a bit. With 3 kilometres to go, I repeated the dummy spit process I went through it all again and wondered how long it would take me to walk the 3 kilometres. I decided that that would take a very long time, would stuff my cleats, and wreck my calf muscles, so with all of that, I decided to get back on my bike. By this stage the guy who was behind me, was catching me up as he clearly hadn’t had any dummy spits. He went past while I was still faffing about, checked that I was okay and kept on riding, tantrum free. I got on my bike and rode on, I caught up with him and we rode together. As we were riding along, Paul was coming down, he checked that we were the last two and then rode with us to get us to the top. (P.S. he was not the guide), as we approached a hair pin, Paul said this is the last hard bit, I rounded the bend and saw the hill and spilled out a few expletives. It was a savage climb and the last kilometre was brutal. Finally, at the top, I told Paul that there was no way that I would survive the second climb, that was it, I was going to ride back to the hotel when we got to the bottom. We took some photos, put on our gillets and headed down the hill, down the other side. The descent was steep and the views were beautiful. We stopped at a water fountain for bottle top up and a few quick photos and kept riding. We went through the area that would be tomorrow’s finish line for the Vuelta.
At the bottom, we regrouped and Alan gave us the briefing of the next climb, 17 kilometres, the first 5 particularly hard and after that it would average out to a nice 5-6%. He was right, the first 5 were very hard, I found a nice rhythm, and caught up with a guy after 1500 metres and sat on his wheel for about 2 kilometres as his pace worked really well for me. The mountain was busy with traffic, people driving their vans and cars up to park on the side of the road to cheer on the race when they came up in a few hours. People riding their bikes up, people walking up. Contractors putting up the race banners and signs, still working, it was hectic. But at no point was there any road rage, angst or abuse. It was fantastic. I went past a car that had over heated and couldn’t get his car off the road, bonnet was up and everyone was just making their way around him while there was also traffic coming down the hill.
I counted down the first 5 agonising kilometres and then tried to enjoy the final “easier” 12. They weren’t easy. Average grade is only the average and doesn’t take away the hard bits. And my legs were tired and sore, my breathing was ragged and I was trying really hard to enjoy the experience. All the hills are marked with kilometre markers. And each marker tells you how far you have ridden, how far to the destination, the elevation gain so far, your final destination elevation gain and the average gradient of the next kilometre. It is very helpful and also messes with your mind. On I went, slowly, but it was the best I could do. The spectators that were already settled in along the way were practising their cheering on anyone riding up, so I had lots of encouragement.
With 4 kilometres to go, Paul appeared having ridden down to find me and ride with me, he said 3 kilometres to go, I said 4, we rode on. It was so hot and so hard. Paul said he was having a struggle day too. We finally got to the top and rode through the finish line of the where the race would finish.
We saw the guide from the other group and he told us where the van was parked, so went in search of that and found it on a grassy open area. They had bags of food for us, and I ate as much as I could manage of the cous cous with dried vegetables and some cold meat. I also had an orange. I was craving a coke. Something that I only ever have after super hard rides. I had decided on the ride up that over 2000 metres of climbing by 49 kilometres was definitely a coke day. Paul went in search of Phil who was somewhere on top of the mountain but as Paul had come down looking for me, he didn’t know where Phil had gone. He returned with Phil, and after we all got changed into some non cycling clothes, though Paul had to leave his cycling shoes on as he had forgotten to pack any shoes, we went in search of coke.
We found a restaurant and got in a very very long and slow line for refreshments. I was adamant that I would be downing two cokes. Paul fancied a beer, as did Phil, and we needed water. So 3 beers, 3 waters and 2 cokes please and we went outside to find somewhere to sit. I drank one coke and some water. We took the rest of the water back to our bikes and put the spare coke in our bag at the van, and then went in search of the hospitality tent that was opening at 3.30.
We had been given our VIP passes that morning before the ride, mine came without the official lanyard, as they were unable to get one for some unknown reason. They had managed to get 25 others.
In the VIP tent, we saw a couple that we had met that morning from the group, Dave and Jane, from Austin, Texas, they had a great spot on the fence on the bend where the riders would come around with 50 metres to the finish line. Paul and Phil went to check out the hospitality part of hospitality and returned with some food and beer. It was near beer, a shandy of beer and lemonade, I had a small sip and it was really very nice.
Right in front of where we were standing as we looked down the hill to where the riders would come from, was a big screen broadcasting the race live. We were able to watch that while we talked and got to know Dave and Jane a bit more. They were really very nice and had only been riding for a short time, and were having lots of fun travelling and riding while they had followed the Vuelta. They had joined up with the group we had just for the 2 Andorra days.
The end of the race was very exciting and we watched on the big screen as Simon Yates attacked with 10 kilometres to go, he caught up with the two that were in a small break up the road and it was an exciting final 10 kilometres. We watched Pinot win, and Yates come second, Yates still had a strong overall lead and would maintain the red jersey to go into the second last day tomorrow.
We said goodbye to Dave and Jane and left the VIP area to go back to the van. We changed back into our cycling kits and got our bikes ready to go. We chatted for a while as we waited to see how long it would take for the group and the guides to get sorted. It was going to take longer than we need to wait and so we decided to head off on our own.
At the start of the descent the road was full of traffic leaving the top of the mountain. It was only for a couple of kilometres though and we made our way through the traffic. The organisation of the roads was outstanding, and there were police keeping everyone to the right, so that all the campers and spectators had to wait for everyone coming down from the top to leave first. Before long we had a clear run of the road, making for a beautiful descent.
At the bottom of the hill we didn’t see Phil so he must have continued on to the hotel. We turned right and followed the signs back to Andorra La Vella. We got back to the hotel, a slight wrong turn, but quickly corrected and then Phil arrived having come back a slightly different way.
By now it was 7pm, dinner was at 8, and we were pretty hungry as the small bit off cous cous lunch had not been enough, or very sustaining. We met in the bar for a drink and then headed up to the restaurant for a much needed dinner. Dinner was, again, a buffet of assorted it’s okay food, paired with some local wine, which was all part of what we had paid for, so to go somewhere else for dinner would just be awkward.
The Astana cycling team were staying at our hotel, so some of the crew, no riders, were also having buffet dinner, including Alexander Vinokourov, an ex pro cyclist and now the General Manager of the Astana team.
As per the night before, the details of tomorrows ride were thin on the ground and we got a message on the WhatsApp message group that it would be another 10 am start. After such a big day, a sleep in would be great.
My sleep in didn’t happen. They don’t do they, when you plan them? It’s like a mean trick from the sleeping gods. I was awake early, after going to sleep late, my inability to breath decently was messing with my sleep, as was the fact that the air-conditioning in our room didn’t work, so we were leaving the window open, but during the night things outside would get super noisy, so then we would close the window, and then we would wake up too hot with the lack of air.
After breakfast we went down for the group sorting process, I was ambivalent about riding at all, I was not feeling great, and I knew I didn’t have the legs to even attempt to go with the long ride group. And I felt that the short ride group would probably do my head in. Dave and Jane and another guy Zac, had gone on their own ride and I was thinking that I might do the same. I said good bye to Paul and Phil and hoped that they had a good ride, and rode out with the other group.
We stopped after 2 kilometres to regroup and then stopped again at 4 kilometres. At this stage I said to Dave, from Sporting International who was riding with the short group today, that I was going to leave the group. He was all’ oh okay great, thanks for letting me know”. I then went for a little ride, enjoying the views.
I got back to the hotel, with only 18 kilometres done, and still managed nearly 400 metres of climbing. Paul and Phil got back just over an hour after me, as they had had to cut their ride short when Phil’s rear brake cable snapped while descending.
Paul and I compared ride notes and then decided now would be a good time to pack the bikes up. Again grateful for our spacious room (even if we hate it for no air-conditioning), we got to work packing everything thoroughly so that the bikes were ready to fly home. Once it was all packed, we showered and dressed, having told Phil that we would be ready in 20 minutes and we met up to walk down to the race village as today’s stage of the Vuelta was starting in Andorra La Vella. We wondered through where all the team buses were parked and all the riders warming up, we spent time at the Mitchelton-Scott bus of course, being that they are an “Aussie” team, took photos and then made our way around to the start line. After they rolled out, we unanimously agreed that lunch was next on the agenda. After all, it was now 3pm!
We found a place that had good looking pizzas on the tables of people eating there and headed in, we were sent up to the third floor, which was hard on sore and tired legs. Paul and I shared a chicken pizza, and according to Paul it was the best base pizza base to date. Phil and I disagreed and said that the one in Varese was better. It was good to eat, and we then headed in search of a supermarket for some supplies and via a gelato shop, for good, but very expensive gelato. We decided to walk back to the hotel to watch the end of the Vuelta stage on the big screen in the bar.
Back at the hotel, about 12 others from the group had the same idea as us and were seated in the bar in front of the big screen to watch the end of the race. We did have VIP passes to the finish village, however the finish was at the top of a big hill and there were no support vans for us today, which kind of rendered the passes useless.
We decided to go with the flow of almost being in Spain and had a sangria each to watch the race. 36 kilometres to go, we settled in, talked and commentated on the race, and watched a very exciting finish that saw Yates retain the red jersey which meant that the final stage in Madrid the next day would have him win the Vuelta over all.
We headed up to our rooms to organise our luggage to be as prepared as we could for the early start the next morning.
At dinner we all agreed that we were very much over buffet food and drank wine to help alleviate the monotony of it. We headed off to bed, having got confirmation from the tour organisers that we would be driving out at 8a.m. I was keen to leave earlier, as I was hoping to get to Madrid in time to see the women’s race which Jess would be racing in, finish. As it was a 7 hour drive to Madrid, I wasn’t confident that we would make it, and I couldn’t convince the organisers that 8 wasn’t actually early.
Up at 6, early for holiday time, late for normal living, showered and finished packing and got to breakfast for 3 minutes to 7. The dining room wasn’t open, as it wasn’t yet 7. At 7.02, we got through the doors.
We had a lighter breakfast than normal, as a) we had spent the last 4 weeks pretty much eating food, and b) we would now be off the bikes for the next few days.
We made new Facebook friends with Dave and Jane and put bets on what time we would actually drive out of the car park, as given the organisation so far, we were not overly optimistic of leaving at 8.
Surprisingly we rolled out of the car park, fully packed by 8.13 – not too bad at all. Most of the group was heading to Barcelona, only Paul, Phil and I with another woman Madeleine from the UK, were doing the Madrid extension. Madeleine is not a cyclist, she is in her 70s, (not that that’s relevant to whether or not she cycles) a keen follower of all the big tours, and goes to France and Spain most years to see some of the races and to also get away from the cold, she hates winter and loves just standing in the sun.
Madeleine had called shotgun last night, so she was up front with Roy, our Sports International guy that was driving us to Madrid. The van was a 9 seater, I took the very back row to myself so that I could type away, and Paul and Phil were in the middle. It was great to have so much room.
The drive was long, uneventful and as we got closer to Madrid, the road had occasional statues of bulls, which was cool.
We drove into the road where our hotel was just as the women’s race started and we saw them rolling the neutral start. It took about 40 minutes to get checked in and into our rooms, (as they weren’t ready when arrived at 2.30), once in and changed, we put Phil’s luggage in our room as his room was not yet ready, and we headed out to eat and to see Jess race.
The race course went right past our hotel, and next to our hotel was a Hard Rock Café, we were absolutely starving so went straight there and asked for an outside table so that we could keep an eye on the race. We ordered, drinks and food, all of which was very good, and thoughts of eating light forgotton as we ordered nachos and quesidillas and cocktails - the service was exceptional and the bill extortionate!
After lunch, we walked along the barriers of the race course, ultimately making our way to the finish line. We cheered very loudly as Jess was in the break with another team mate, Sarah Roy, and Jess was doing a mountain of work. She rode a brilliant race which resulted in her helping Sarah sprint for second on the final lap.
We chatted with Jess after the finish, I got some great shots of her and Sarah and then we walked through the streets of Madrid, stopping at the Mitchelton-Scott van to say a final well done and see you in November to Jess.
The men’s race wasn’t due to hit town for a few hours, we couldn’t get across the race course due to the road closures, and we were very very hot, we went back to the hotel to move Phil’s luggage to his room, I got changed as I was sweltering and then we met downstairs to have a beer in the hotel bar. The price list changed our mind on that and we went out on the street to watch the men’s race. After a while we went in search of an ATM and some thoughts of ice cream. No ice cream was found and we found ourselves back at the Hard Rock café with a window seat to see the race from our seats and we all ordered a cocktail. In the end we spent the evening there, a few more drinks, an unhealthy dinner of fries and onion rings shared between the three of us before winding the night up.
Back in our hotel, Paul and I walked into our room to find that our beds had been turned down, the clothes we had left lying on the bed had been folded and bottles of water, slippers and chocolates were put out for us. It was a very nice way to finish another very big day.
Today was tourist day, we only had one day in Madrid, so not rich with a lot of time we had to narrow down the list of what we wanted to see and or do. Paul was keen to see the “soccer” stadium, Real Madrid’s stadium – Santiago Bernabéu, I suggested that from what I had read it was worth going to the Royal Palace of Madrid and all trips to a capital city should include a gallery of some sort. Of the three on the recommended list Prado was the closest for us logistically. In addition, we had been told about the tapas markets and also my brother had recommended a chocolaterie. Our list was sorted.
Research the day before showed us that nothing opened until 10, so we worked around that. Met for breakfast in our very swanky hotel at 8, where I had smoked salmon with capers and soft cheese on toast, because, I felt I should. It was really the only thing different on the buffet selection from the last 4 weeks of buffet breakfasts.
We left the hotel after 9 to catch a taxi to the soccer stadium. We got there 15 minutes before it opened and there was already a queue. We patiently stood in line, and then bought our very expensive tickets, we opted to pay the extra 5 euro for a guided tour, once we confirmed that there was one in English. So for 34 euro each we got to see the stadium that is the home of Real Madrid.
The stadium is pretty impressive, I’m not a soccer fan (if I was I would probably call it football), but it was very impressive. The digital technology in the corridors that show case everything was second to none, really high tech. And also a digital map of the world that had lights everywhere that any social media activity was happening, showing to the second the amount of tweets around the world, how many fans were following Real Madrid on all the social media channels, including Snapchat, Instagram and Facebook.
We were taken to see all of the trophies that Real Madrid have won at all the levels of playing, we got to see the owners club box, best seats in the house, through the players change rooms and to their seats on the side of the ground. We saw videos and were given all the history. Their paraphernalia drive is strong, and there were several opportunities when we would be taken through a queue and encouraged to have our photo taken with; the premiership cup, in front of a blue screen to be photo shopped with RM players and then at the end of the tour you could buy a photo of yourself.
There was one opportunity toward the end of the tour that you could have your photo taken and it was then put on a collage of photos that makes up the face of a Real Madrid player, Paul opted to do that one.
By about 12.30 we exited the stadium, following a very slick and impressive tour, we jumped in ataxi to be taken to the Royal Palace of Madrid. Again there was a queue, not a long one, we lined up and for the more reasonable price of ten euro, we headed in to tour the palace. The palace was very big and like all other palaces that we have visited, an amazing space of lots of dust collecting historical artefacts. It is amazing, and so great that Europe maintains their old buildings, but at the same time I can’t help but think that some of the space and money that is all sitting there could be used to aid a greater purpose.
We chose to do the palace without audio assistance nor a guide which meant that we got through at probably a quicker pace but also possibly with less learning to take away. There were enough signs in each room though that meant that we still got a lot out of it.
Upon leaving the place and now well into the afternoon, we had reached that normal everyday place of ‘omg we are starving’ and Phil went into navigator mode to find us lunch. We ended up at Santa Ana’s tapas stalls, where we got a table and assessed the menu. Last time I was in Spain, my first true paella experience had been pretty average, I tried it twice and both times were less than ordinary, not wanting to die wondering, and still a believer in the fact that a good paella must exist, I ordered the seafood paella and a mojito (because I still don’t understand sangria). Paul ordered the chicken paella and a San Miquel beer and Phil went with the grilled octopus and coke.
Praise the paella lords, the paella was pretty great. My mojito was bloody brilliant and my lunch was a fantastic experience. We were all very happy with our lunch and happy to sit there for a bit of a rest, while swatting away the people selling their wares.
We left lunch to go and find the Museo Nacional Del Prado, at the entry Paul had read the sign and advised that it was 15 euro, I said that I thought that was probably too much given that I didn’t think that we would all get the value from that. I was keen to go in, but not keen to see the boys waste their money and time as I really believed that they would not really dig it. They insisted that it was a must do, and in we went.
I was very happy taking my time, reading all the information about each painting and artist that I was attracted to. After about 15 minutes, I glanced up along the long hallway of art to see that Phil had taken a seat and was possibly zoning out. Not long after, I looked in the same direction to see that Paul had joined him. Hmmmm, these boys are not endurance athletes when it comes to this sport. After a while I made the suggestion that they go and look for ice cream, or beer, and meet me back out the front in an hour. I knew that an hour was not enough, but given that it would be nearly 5.30 by then, I felt that that would be enough for this trip.
By myself, I took time to immerse into as much as I could, I took a few notes of the paintings that really intrigued me, marvelled at the detail and thought and age of each piece, took extra time in the Goya collection on level 2 and unfortunately ran out of time to make it down to the bottom level.
At the allocated meet me out the front time, I headed out and saw Paul and Phil sitting under a tree looking in desperate need of a nap. I asked them if they wanted to see or do anything else and they declined, both feeling the need to head back to the hotel. With it being close to 6pm I was at a loss of what to go and see or do so I headed back with them.
I spent the next two hours wisely, showering – it had been a hot sweaty day, and writing my diary. Just before 8 we rang Phil (and woke him up) to see if he was keen to go for dinner. We met downstairs and went in search of dinner. I had read about a tapas bar not far from us that got rave rave reviews so we went and found it. Either the vibe of the place wasn’t vibe-ing or we were all a tad jaded and so we went in search of something else. Another place nearby with good reviews was absolutely empty and we decided to steer clear. We kept on walking. We found a sign that said Welcome to the Market. And had a food place with people sitting outside, we headed in and asked for a table inside. Because, we were so over all the cigarette smoke while eating in Europe.
Seated inside, the place was a tad desolate. We were the only people inside and the service was without a doubt the worst service ever. The woman was rude and surly and we were obviously in her way by being there. We placed our order, eventually, and she didn’t take mine, assuming, because Paul had ordered more than one tapas item that he was ordering for me as well. I steered clear of the tapas menu and order a hamburger, with fried onions. I decided on a hamburger because of the weird vibe I was getting and I just didnt trust what i would get if I ordered from the tapas menu.
Phil’s steamed mussels arrived, followed by Paul’s chips with hot sauce, which were actually potato chunks, not hot sauce, a tasty sauce. Then his ham croquettes arrived with his calamari. I had a bite of the croquette and it was still frozen in the middle. Phil’s mussels were fine. Finally my burger arrived, without fried onions (I knew she wasn’t listening to me), and it was fine. The chips it came with were shit, and I left them after tasting two, the second to confirm that they were shit. I suggested that it would be good if we could find a bar to just go for a drink, Google told us that there was an Irish bar about 1km away, so after our average dinner with shit service, we went to find the bar.
We were happy to go to any bar, but we couldn’t find anything where we could just go for a drink. The Irish bar was friendly and relaxed and more than happy for us to just have a drink. We found a table, in front of a big screen showing a soccer match, and had a look at the menu. We ordered drinks and talked about all the important things in life, favourite movies, shit customer service, cocktail ingredients and any other war stories that came up. Eventually, with a good band playing, once the soccer was finished we agreed that it was time to call it a night.
As we walked out of the bar and out to the streets we saw that the roads were wet. Our kilometre walk home ended up being a bit of a dash through the rain, drying to avoid getting drenched.
We made it back to our room, not too wet, to find again that our beds were turned down, we had fresh bottles of water and good night chocolates.