Scenic Drive Movie - Col du Petit St. Bernard, Italy & France - Oct. 2012

Better late than never (yes, I am way behind in my posts but now that we are sequestered away in our charming Paris flat, I should begin to catch up!) 

A scenic drive across the Col du Petit St. Bernard from Italy into France, including a quick look at a mobile milking station!

-K

Lezise, Courmayeur, & the Italian Alps – Oct. 9-13, 2012

More pictures here!

Having only 17 days left with Salt & Pepper in the European portion of the Aventura (we have a glorious month in a Paris flat to look forward to while S&P are shipping home) we have decided to focus on what we love:  Wine and mountains.

So we left Levanto and headed north-east to Lezise, Italy, near the heart of the Valpolicella wine region.  We only lasted two nights at Camping du Parc on Lake Garda (why is everything still so crowded in October?  With children no less—what happened to school?) but two nights was long enough to take a delightful car tour of the wine region and a short hike to the self-proclaimed longest natural bridge, you be the judge (that is River on the path):

Unlike wine regions in France and the USA with their prolific “free tasting” signage, Italy has not learned how to attract a non-Italian speaking tourist.  The map we picked up at the very helpful tourist information site should have led us to the doors of at least three vineyards but we only found our way to one:   The perfect Fratelli Vogadori.  Run by three brothers and their father who still works in the field; all the grapes are grown completely naturally, no pesticides or chemical fertilization and their wines are produced solely from their own grapes.  SP was in heaven with their two types of Amarone and I loved their Ricioto, a dessert wine much like Port but made 100% from grapes.

Wine in hand, we headed north to Courmayeur, at the base of Mt. Blanc.  What a gorgeous spot!  And Camping Arc en Ciel was a slice of heaven; two of the three nights we were completely alone in our long row of thick green grass.  You know how I love green grass!  I hardly ever go into detail on campgrounds in the posting (remember, you can see more campground details on the Campground page) but this was a lovely spot and the hosts were as helpful and charming as they come. 

We hiked twice; a short one to Lake Arpy which was beautiful even on a cloudy and cold day and a longer one up Val Ferret.  Let me tell you, if we spoke the language we would have bought our farmhouse right there in that valley—it was stunning:  Flanked by the Alps, centered with a river and to each side slightly rolling hills highlighted with trees blazing in their fall colors.  Delightful! 

Italians have been the most profusive when it comes to appreciating Salt & Pepper often sounding a joyful honk followed by a hearty wave and thumbs up as they pass us.  So one evening, as I was leaving the grocery store, I was not surprised to see a Crusty standing outside gazing toward the Pepper, slowly shaking his head and repeating, “Bella, bella, bella.”  I prepared my knowing (and hopefully gracious) smile as I approached the car only to look just beyond Pepper to Mt. Blanc, angelic and massive, posing in the sunset.  I turned to the Crusty who again shook his head and repeated, “Bella, bella, bella.” 

Bella, indeed.  I have seen a lot of mountains, and even Mt. Blanc from France, but nothing compares to Mt. Blanc as seen from Italy.  No wonder these Italians are so happy.

-K

DITL - Cinque Terre Hike, Italy - Oct. 8, 2012

Well we did it:  We visited two other Cinque Terre towns and saw one from a boat, so that makes four out of five.  They are interesting but crowded; if you are ever in the area and miss an American accent, just hop into one of the towns and you'll be happy.

By far the highlight was the hiking from Corneglia to Manarola, up and through and down the hills.  (The coastal route remains closed due to landslides.)  For this we have a Day in the Life video - a little long, but there was so much beauty it was difficult to cut.

-K

PS:  This posting finds us in Courmayeur, Italy at the base of Mt. Blanc awaiting the first snowfall of the season!

Levanto, Italian Riviera – Sept. 30 - Oct. 5, 2012

More pictures here!

They say you find what you are looking for when you stop looking; this proved to be true for us in Italy.  Giving up on finding charming, out of the way places we headed to Cinque Terre and discovered . . . the rest of the tourists.   Luckily, sometimes the restrictions of Salt bring about unexpected joys:  Unable to drive Salt down the roads leading into the five townships that comprise Cinque Terre (contrary to Wikipedia, Trip Advisor and Lonely Planet internet reviews, you can indeed drive into these towns, albeit with a car and not a caravan) we opted to camp just north along the coast in Levanto.

As it turns out we discovered our own little heaven.  There are some tourists here, but not nearly the hordes that converge along the five Cinque Terre towns.  Indeed, our one day at the northern-most town, Monterossa, was more than enough for me:  Having to dodge tour guides hoisting their herding flags as they led their slow-moving groups from photo op to photo op and over-paying for under-flavored “Italian” food was more than I could bear.  Thankfully, this memory was displaced by our hike home to Levanto which proved to be long, but wonderful, along the edge of the sea.

What promised to provide the largest portion of the Cinque Terre charm for us, the coastal hike connecting the five towns, was closed due to landslides and continued rainfall.  One section, the Via Dell’Amore, has been closed since 2011; the other four more recently, and hopefully, temporarily.  You can still drive to all the towns as well as train or ferry but having seen the one and, more importantly, having found our own coastal dream towns (yes, there are two!) we saw no need to drive, train or boat in order to enjoy what this coast has to offer.  (Note that you can also still walk between the towns, just not on the coastal route; these other trails often involve sharing roads with automobiles not making for a very enjoyable outing.)

So Levanto . . . larger than Monterossa, filled with great little shops (local wine, cheese, bread, fish and non-local Armani), and topped off with a good dose of Crusties, we are in heaven.  Include in the list hill walks through olive groves and a gorgeous coastal walk to the even more charming town of Bonnasola, and I believe we have discovered how the Italians enjoy Cinque Terre:  From anywhere else along the Riviera.

There is one downside to this lovely spot; the bell tower goes off 24-hours a day on the quarter hour; with chimes for the hour as well as the quarter hour it is quite the bell-fest.  So, even at say, 3:30 in the morning, you get three chimes in one note (Ding, Ding, Ding) indicating the hour and then two chimes in another note (Dong, Dong) indicating 2x15 minutes.  Nothing keeps me awake more than laying there listening to my life chime away 15 minutes at a time.  No pressure.  The worst is 12:45—it barely finishes before the singular chime of 1:00; it is difficult, however, not to enjoy the classic Ding, Dong chime of 1:15—although I much prefer hearing the PM rendition.  They make up for this annoyance by having the most inviting Cocktail Chime promptly at 5:00 p.m. (coming soon to a DITL Video.)  Now The Noses and I all begin to salivate at 5:01.

Other than that, this is the location we thought all Aventura locations would be like.  It is an easy walk from Camping Aqua Dolce into the town for groceries and each afternoon one of us will make the journey, finding something to make for dinner.  As previously mentioned, hiking is in abundance as is swimming in the sea and two lovely tennis courts.  SP has rented a bike on two occasions and I’m not sure who is more happy, he or River.  River’s new joy is to run along beside the bike—something we started her on in Slovenia; unfortunately not as convenient here due to the increase in bicycle and pedestrian traffic.  But when she can she does and when she can’t she cries as he peddles away.  (He, and I for that matter, can walk away all day long and she won’t bother to lift her head [as long as Rosco is with her], but get SP on the bicycle without her and you’d think she was about to die.)

SP would like to visit one more Cinque town because he just can’t believe the amount of hype surrounding what seem to be five not un-common towns along this coast and I would like to see them from the sea, so perhaps we’ll get on that ferry after all.  Until then,

Ciao!

-K

PS:  You may notice in the campground pictures the abundance of trees and the lack of space; we had quite a time parking Salt and may not have succeeded without the help of our neighbors.  We will need their help again to get out as we cannot leave unless the camper next to us vacates his spot.  Even at this “low season” time of year, the campground is filled to capacity each night—often with a great amount of daily turnover.   Timing will be essential.  

Florence, Italy – Sept. 27-28, 2012

A couple of more pictures here.

The trouble with staying in a five-star hotel is that you never want to leave.  Your room.  Ever.  Even for a minute.  Add a balcony overlooking one of the most visited sites in Florence, Ponte Vecchio, and you can see why we rarely got out of the Lungarno Hotel's thick terry robes and slippers.

But we did get out:  We bumped our way along the crowded, narrow and often smelly streets (so many dogs and very rarely any grass or trees!) to visit Il Davide (not The David), the jewelry shops on Ponte Vecchio, the Boboli Gardens (“No Dogs!”) from the outside and discovered an out of the way vegetarian restaurant that was divine, 5 e Cinque.  (Black cabbage sautéed in olive oil and garlic is now often on our Salt menu.)

Thursday afternoon, while enjoying hors d’oeuvres in a small, family run café next to the hotel, the owner approached the table displaying cuts of cheese on his palm.  He wanted to share the cheeses with The Noses.  We politely declined, trying to communicate that they are not allowed to be fed from the table (this is why everyone thinks they are so wonderful in restaurants; all The Noses know about being there is that they have a temporary dog house under the table for an hour or so); he returned to the kitchen heart-broken and maybe even a little disgusted. 

On our way out, I mentioned that they could have some cheese now, near the street.  He fed and fed them until, fearing a night filled with intestinal reprisals, I called it to an end.  To show our appreciation, I “shot” Rosco and he immediately fell over and played dead.  Love that trick!  The owner was delighted.

Upon leaving the hotel, the owner of the café saw us piling into Pepper (don’t get me started on driving Pepper through Florence!); running over he aimed his hand through the back window and tried to shoot Rosco.  With no cheese at hand, Rosco declined a repeat performance.

And so we put Florence in the package with Venice:  Return without Noses and when we might have more patience for standing shoulder to shoulder, back to front, trying to ignore a stranger’s breath on our necks, in order to gaze at wonderful art.

This posting finds us sitting in Campeggio Acqua Dolce in Levanto, Italy, just outside of Cinque Terre.  A torrential rain is upon us and we aren’t sure if we will be able to maneuver our way out of our pitch unless everyone else in the row leaves.  (I would not be surprised if there is a YouTube video floating around of us getting into the pitch—our repeat performances continued for quite some time after which we needed something much stronger than cheese.) 

Thankfully, Salt’s roof is leak-free, the rain is due to stop in a day or so and we are surrounded by breath-taking seaside and mountain hiking opportunities.  We can hardly wait to get out there, although many of the main paths between the towns are closed due to a landslide.  Yes, Mobom, we'll be careful.

-K

Lido di Nazionali & Comacchio, Italy – Sept. 19-20, 2012

More pictures here!

Our great expectations of the Adriatic Coast combined with the promise of a full service pitch had us driving in thinking that we may have to stay in Lido delle Nazioni until Camping Tahiti closed five days later.    We were out of there in two nights.

First for the campground:  We should have prophesied the end of our visit when Reception asked for our wrists in order to attach non-removable plastic bracelets. We are not the plastic bracelet kind of people.  We much prefer that business take it upon themselves to remember who is a paying guest and who is not.  On the plus side, our pitch came with its own private toilet, shower and outdoor dish sink which were nice; unfortunately the star attraction was the millions of mosquitoes.  We were eaten alive.

As for the coast, the area is run down and not very inviting.  The seaside is almost completely segmented into private beaches (Campground Tahiti has one of them), their entrances protected with chain link fences, making a walk along the coast seem like you are venturing around a prison yard.  With a storm brewing, the Adriatic wasn’t beaconing either and thus we spent our one full day in the area playing tennis (terrible courts), visiting the Thermal Spa (not nearly hot enough for this time of year) and dining in the nearby village of Comacchio (easily the jewel of our stop.)

In Comacchio we found Crusties and lots of them.  Crusties is a name I gave to all the old men in Barcelona:  They looked like they had spent their lives on the sea and could not get used to walking on the stable earth.  As in Barcelona, the Crusties of Comacchio gaze out of their unflappable eyes, gesticulated wildly, discussing lord only knows what.  Commachio is full of them.  I managed to get two of them in a photo of the town, but you have to look carefully—I didn’t want to be obvious.

Along with the Crusties came a good dose of authentic Italian life.  At cocktail time (Prosecco and local olives) the Crusties gathered for their drinks and smokes while there was never a woman to be seen.  We figured the women were home making dinner.  I have rarely wanted to speak another language so much in my life:  Oh to eavesdrop on their conversations!  What do they talk about with such excitement hour after hour after hour?

With nothing garnering our attention more than swapping at the mosquitoes, we knew we had to get back on the road and thus headed deeper into Italy and into another country; San Marino.  Nothing beats mosquitos like the oldest republic in the world.

-K

PS:  For those of you wondering how in the world we could drive by Venice twice without stopping, I give you this:  We try to visit the out of the way places on this trip.  Venice can be easily toured without your own transportation and most likely much more enjoyable without your own dogs.   If you have not been there but are planning a trip, prepare yourself for some of the ugliest scenery in the world on your drive from the airport to the water taxis.  The area is a marsh-land (hence the mosquitoes) and covered with low-rise industrial buildings. 

Switzerland (Fiesch & Poschiavo) & into Slovenia – Aug. 13-16, 2012

More photos here!

We knew Europe would be crowded in August which is why we planned on being in the Alps, assuming most people would prefer the beaches of the Mediterranean for their vacation.  None the less, it started to get crowded at our lovely spot in Poschiavo (Camping Boomerang) to the point where I thought they were about to ask us to share our pitch (crowded has since taken on a new meaning.)   So we decided it was time to go even further afield and try out the Julian Alps in Slovenia via a quick drive through northern Italy. 

But first to describe our remaining time in Switzerland:  We accomplished two more hikes, a long one starting at the Alp Grum train station and winding through a valley to the base of a glacier and a much shorter one that started at the top of the Bernina Diavolo gondola, where after only a very short hike, we were above 10,000’ and doing our best to breath. 

If we needed any further impetus to leave Switzerland we received it with the cost of those two hikes:  Over $300 (eight round-trip train tickets and four gondola tickets) this, for something that we are used to enjoying for free. 

Eager to get to a less-expensive country, we drove out of Switzerland and into Italy where we almost fainted pulling Salt over Abrica Pass.  Every mountain road we have been on in Italy has been under construction and this was no different.  Add August traffic to the construction and you have quite a mess and definitely more than we would try to deal with again.  We vowed to stick to the multi-lane highways and save the mountain roads for Pepper alone.  Big words for two people who have no experience driving in most of these countries.

After the slow, harrowing drive through the pass, we knew we wouldn’t make it to Slovenia in one day so we opted to leave the highway and head to Caorole, a small town on the Adriatic sea, which had at least three tent signs on our map indicating camping.  Unfortunately, we did not notice the map also included an umbrella sign; the universal symbol for “beach”. 

The temperature had reached above 30/90 as we pulled into town and proceeded to get turned away from every campground.  They were full, and I mean full; even if they had found a spot for us, I wouldn’t have stayed.  You simply would not believe how crammed together everyone was (unless, of course, you have camped on the Italian coast during August).  You could barely walk between the rigs. 

So we had a quick dinner (pizza!) along the sea before hitting the road.  As it was late, we decided to forgo a campground and just stop at a motel off the highway.  Ha!  This is not the US, you don’t see many glowing Holiday Inn signs as you cruise down the road.  So Simon (GPS) directed us to a hotel outside of Udine where we grabbed a small room for €70 and slept like two logs (the separate beds helped!)

Still not having any reservations (do not attempt to camp in Europe in August without reservations!) we headed early to Slovenia, starting our pitch search in Kobarid and garnering our first rejection before noon.  Luckily, by that time, a campground further north had written that they had room for us so we headed to Bovic.

And just like that we were back on mountain roads.

Not having any options for a highway (or, worse, maybe Route 203 from Kobarid to Bovec is considered a highway in Slovenia) we had another white-knuckle and close to Salt-scraping experience getting to Kamp Polovnik.  However, true to their word, they did have a place for us. 

This is where you can find us now:  Crammed into a pitch (one of the few that are even slightly defined by trees—most of the camp is just open fields and therefore a free for all for space) and hoping for enough Aventura spirit to get through the heat and crowds of August. 

-K