Florence

Oh my god what a city, I was so excited to see it and it didn’t disappoint.  The campsite was up a very steep hill in a village overlooking Florence and the views were spectacular.  There was a shuttle bus to the village itself and from there we got a bus into the old city.  We left early, R not being a city fan, hoping there weren’t too many people and that it wouldn’t be too hot for Sunny, Florence is stunning, exactly as I imagined it would be and better.  Every corner has something more exciting around it, the architecture, statuary and art is fabulous.  Because we had the dog we weren’t able to go inside the buildings so no art museums or cathedrals but it didn’t matter there was enough to see without going inside.

We spent the whole day just wondering around and taking photos, we didn’t even stop to eat!  A decision was made that we need to come back for a stay in a posh hotel for a week, without the dog!

We went back up to the campsite for a bit of a rest and then decided to walk back down to the village for supper, the walk was a couple of kilometres downhill and quite steep but gorgeous with houses dating to 1450, cypress trees and flowers, it was like being on a film set it was so perfect!   The restaurant was overlooking the city, Sunny was welcomed with open arms, the food was amazing and the wine was superb.

Unfortunately when we finished our meal there were no taxis left and we had to walk back up the hill, by this time it was vertical.

A flat tyre

We left the little campsite in Italy with a view to travelling to Florence,  somewhere I have always wanted to go.  After about 10 minutes of travelling the tyre was losing pressure again, (the actual car tells us that!) we were in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten track and nether of us can speak Italian (my assumption that I can just put an a on the end of French has proved erroneous).  We passed a car mechanic shop and with the help of translate on our phones we were able to explain what we needed.  They sent us to Quick Fit where another handsome man explained that he had not got a replacement tyre and that it could take a few days to get one.   He then offered to do a proper repair but that it wouldn’t be ready until 4pm, this at 9.45am.

We couldn’t go anywhere and it was getting hotter and hotter, Sunny wouldn’t be able to walk on the pavements which meant we spent the entire day in a car park.  R took the opportunity to spend the whole time sunbathing while Sunny and I hid in the shade.  Luckily we had already bought water and a picnic for lunch so we had sustenance and I read my book.

At 4pm the tyre was ready, it was refitted to the van and we left heading for Florence, a little bit nervous that the tyre would blow.  The trip was four hours on the map but we forgot that there had been a bridge collapse in Genoa so it too six hours instead.  I moaned all the way because I needed a wee and I thought we should just stop for the night in a rest stop.  R didn’t murder me and we arrived in Florence at 10pm, a little fractious and very tired but the view from the campsite was amazing and you could hear the bells from the cathedral.

A Surfeit of views

After much discussion we  made an executive decision not to go to any of the tourist places in Italy, rather to allow the sat nav to direct us, avoiding motorways and A roads.  We put in Brindisi as our final destination, a total of 751 miles and were told we should arrive at 11.45, we made the natural assumption that this would be 14 hours of driving and decided that we would stop when R was tired of driving.

I really should have recorded the whole journey.  We started out at about 9.30 from France on a D road, it was absolutely spectacular I actually ran out of hyperbole and found myself sitting very quietly just looking out of the window.  The roads were clinging to the sides of the mountains and we zipped along like little goats, me clinging to the hand hold above my head with my foot on an imaginary brake.  Every turn was more beautiful than the last, our way was blocked by goats and a rather handsome goatherd (for a goatherd that is) with an excellent Parisian accent!  After several hours of travelling we had still only gone 50 miles owing to finding out that the road was blocked by workmen only when we found them.

We pressed on, determined to reach Italy by nightfall, gaily singing the self preservation song as we teetered on the edge of the road unfettered by a safety barrier.  We finally reached Italy, after dark with no place to stay, roads made of broken glass and advice from the forum that overnighting in a lay-by in Italy was not a good idea.   Luckily we found a campsite and without a word of Italian managed to get a pitch for the night.

We had travelled 150 miles in 12 hours, while very picturesque, I think tomorrow we will go back on the motorway.

Back in time

We travelled from Valencia, north towards France and I had noticed that we would pass the Costa Brava.  This is where I spent most of my childhood summers, notably in a village called L’estartit firstly camping and then when the baby of the family arrived, staying in apartments.  The campsite I remember the most was called El Molino, which I googled and booked.  I have memories of rolling an enormous bottle of water from a shop near a windmill and the feel of pesetas to spend in said shop,  of being told off for laughing at my sister as she ran, of my brother being called No and of being free.  The campsite smelled exactly the same, of hot earth and pine needles, the shop is a house now and the windmill was much smaller.   You can’t walk through the site to the beach now because there are houses there and the sand dunes are gone but the beach was gorgeous, powder sand and sparkling clean sea.  I am incredibly lucky and grateful to have had such brilliant holidays in such a lovely place and am very sorry for being such a bitch when we went to Argeles!

We moved on and into France, we were to stay at El Molino but we have to be in Italy two days earlier because the ferry is cancelled.  We had a campsite to go to  but when we got there it was opposite a nuclear power station and looked like we could be murdered overnight, at the very least find our dog’s head on a stick in the morning so we moved on.

About half an hour down the road and next to a really beautiful village, in a valley between two foothills we found a perfect site, hardly anyone there, pitches in wooded glades and a gurgling stream running through the middle.  Apart from the nuclear power station and ramifications of the minor earthquake at 7.34 we would have thought we were in paradise.  We didn’t stay long, I’m not a fan of radiation.

Mountains

We spent a pleasant little sojourn in the mountains during which time we visited, on the advice of my friend, some beautiful villages up in the hills.  Well there they were, balanced precariously on the mountainsides, looking for all the world like tiny piles of sugar cubes sparkling in the sun.  We drove along roads that had the deliberate positioning of a giant ribbon tossed by a giant with no apparent care for health and safety, particularly mine.  I nearly had a fainting fit at the sheer drop, we couldn’t possibly be held up by the tiny string of cotton they classed as a safety barrier, R driving recklessly laughing his head off at me.  He has a sick sense of humour, that one.

The three villages, each one more beautiful than the last were definitely worth the drive though. I consoled myself after nearly having a heart attack by buying a 2m by 2m rug from a lady with a loom, God knows where I’ll put it!

We drove on that afternoon up to Valencia and the scenery was amazing, we saw a desert, gorges, mountains, cave houses and so many castles each one more interesting than the last.   At one point we passed through an industrial working town and in a tiny little gap between two blocks of flats, on a scrubby bit of grass were two horses and two camels, had to look twice to believe it!

Spain is a country with so many different terrains it makes me wish I’d studied geography and geology with a bit more enthusiasm.