Avanti, Ischia

Firstly, sorry for the long delay between posts, but internet connections have been limited and at such slow speeds it was not possibly to upload a posting.

We had ambitions to ‘live’ in a hilltop town in Italy and Laureana Cilento was certainly that. A fantastic view over Agripoli, the Sorrento peninsula and the Mediterranean, with tiny streets and that air of tranquillity you only find in the mountains.

View from a hilltop town













Sunset highlights Amalfi coastline













Our apartment was typically Italian, the entrance through a very old heavy door into a courtyard and very large rooms with one metre thick walls with high ceilings helping it to keep cool in the summer; I would imagine very cold in the winter! The higgledy piggledy rooms had a rustic Italian charm about them.

MOG at apartment doorway






Mimmo, the owner of “Blu di Prussia”, was a true eccentric. We tend to think this is a very British phenomenon, well Mimmo is in a league of his own; but he does have two very good reasons form his character. Firstly he is a painter, and a very good one at that: we all know about artists! Secondly he’s married to an Australian…, no more said… (Sorry Teresa!)






Mimmo and ‘his’ painting
















This small business is a café, shop, furniture restoration, art gallery, residence and B&B all rolled into one. Fortunately as MOG was looking for a job Mimmo allowed me to work behind the bar on election night… not for wages, just free drink…it cost him dearly!

MOG being paid, in kind















and entertaining the customers. ..















Mimmo, Teresa (Keeping her eye on the till – you can’t trust a Pom!) and MOG.














Mimmo with "Alba"...FOG to us.




We used the apartment as a base to explore this unspoilt region of Italy. Most of the roads we travelled weren’t even on our Sat-Nav, so we reverted to the ancient art of map reading! This area was inhabited by the Magna Greeks in 500 BC. Paestum especially was a real delight to visit. The temples and ‘ruins’ were in a remarkably well preserved condition and surprisingly there were few tourists; which enabled us to wander through the ancient streets being transported back in time 2,500 years. We were still in mud huts when this civilisation was erecting temples that we would struggle to construct today, even with all our mechanical know-how…

Paestum












Velia was even older and had been lost in time until rediscovered a couple of hundred years ago, but even here the mosaic swimming pools and under floor heating meant we are only just catching up technology wise!

One evening we were invited down to the local church for a Saint’s Day feast and in very English style the heavens opened. It didn’t just rain, it poured and all the preparations were soon abandoned as the place turned into a mud bath…

MOG outside 'chiesa' with the goldfish won by Mimmo’s daughter












We enjoyed the hilltop experience but there is very little to do except walk…, so it was time to move on. We had envisaged staying for longer periods in such a place but we now found out you must have a purpose for a long stay and we had seen enough culture to keep us going for awhile... However we did experience a lot of excitement on the final night. We retired early, as usual, when suddenly all hell broke loose in the little square. Tanoys were blaring, music thumping and the piazza was suddenly filled with cars and people. Quickly we dressed and entered the fray where a sparkling wine was thrust into our hands by Mimmo who informed us they were celebrating the election result. Suddenly, just as quickly as they had arrived, they piled back into their cars and were gone leaving Mimmo, Teresa and the Old Gits to clear up the mess. MOG was just getting into the mood for a party but Mimmo was shutting up the bar and FOG marched her protesting husband away…

Our drive through Naples for the ferry to Ischia was nowhere near as bad we had feared. Yes, there were still many cars that looked as if they had spent the last weekend at a stockcar racing circuit, but the driving was possibly no worse than London… You never indicate in this part of Italy and when you enter the main road you wait until a host of cars are nearly upon you then slowly pull out in front of them. Horns are obligatory and must be tested every 30 seconds and used at every occasion, especially when a pretty girl is walking down the street. MOG did oblige with this particular local custom!

The ferry to Ischia was full of Germans and, we were soon to discover, so was the whole island. I do have a resemblance to our German cousins, having a very square head, but if I hear one more ‘Bitte’ from an Italian thinking I am ‘Un Tedesco’, I’ll go barking…

I always had an image of Ischia as a quiet island with small villages and a few scooters bustling around. This came from a film starring Jack Lemon called (I think), “Avanti”. If you want to understand the culture of the Neapolitan then this film will explain all; it is hilarious. On reflection I suppose this film must have been made 30-40 years ago and there has been considerable development of the island since then. We are only just at the beginning of the season and the island was heaving! It is a beautiful island but the roads are full of manic Italians or bumbling tourists…this combination led to a few waving arms and, of course, horns blaring as we toured around the island.

Naples and yet another volcano...plus the ferry









Ischia Castle












We were the only English in our hotel; Germans being the main contingent. One morning I couldn’t sleep so as dawn broke I wondered up to the pool area to watch the sun rise only to be trampled by the horde of Germans, towels and novels in hand, all bagging the best sun beds; then they all promptly left for a day’s excursion!



Departing Ischia was a truly nightmare ferry journey. Stupidly we had decided to leave on a Saturday…change over day. The port was jammed solid. An officious little Italian screaming at everyone, only managed to compound the chaos…men like that are the same the world over…give them an ounce of power…

Over the last couple of weeks there had developed a new sense of unease on the Old Gits travels; it is difficult to exactly pin point the shift in emphasis. Discussions had switched from our travels to what we would do when we returned home. The constant ‘battle’ with hotels trying to obtain a ‘fair’ deal had become, to say the least, irritating. Our two siblings had called as they had found a property that really interested them and required some help with the research. A business opportunity had also transpired so our planned short return trip, for a Sandhurst Ball, was duly extended with flights altered; at some cost of course. Then the two Old Gits looked at each other and a long silence filled the stifling hot, cramped hotel bedroom outside Rome airport which, incidentally, was in an area that resembled Basra…

Finally MOG whispered, ‘Is it time to go home? Shall we drive back tomorrow…?’

Una lunga strada a Laureana Cilento

All good things must come to an end, we finally packed the car and said goodbye to Pinetrees at Cardedu and our hosts, Carlo & Rita, who even went to the trouble of taking us to a fabulous restaurant in the next bay..., we were truly sad to leave: we will return that is for sure.

Carlo & Rita with MOG

Our next island was to be the rugged and historic Island of Sicily. Sometimes situations and circumstances blend in such a way as to give you a negative and often wrong impression of a place…we experienced this with Sicily. The ferry was old, knackered and very cramped. The lounge was heaving and Female Old Git (FOG) had quite a tussle with a small French party who had commandeered a huge amount of seats and had spread their belongings over a wide area while the rest of the passengers stood and jostled for space. FOG politely asked for a couple of seats, which were empty of course, for a few minutes while we finished our drinks… Well, you would thought she had mentioned Agincourt, Trafalgar and Waterloo in the same sentence…b******ds! (Incidentally FOG bought a children’s history book of France…Trafalgar wasn’t mentioned; now that’s brainwashing).

The next morning we awoke with frostbite, only to find that we had the aircon on full blast all night…we hadn’t noticed the large knob on the grill saying “off”…our sight must have still been impaired by the red mist in our eyes caused by our Gallic friends. The exit from the hold of the ferry resulted in running over a large rubber ‘chock’ which totally ripped the underneath of the Mercedes. A rather loud grinding noise accompanied our departure from the dock and necessitated MOG lying underneath the car to implement some temporary repairs, fortunately the damage was superficial but it would require yet another visit to a garage.

Even docking in Sicily wasn’t straight forward

The roads in Sicily are heavily ridged so our route eastwards was unpleasant and noisy but what disappointed us both was the amount of rubbish strewn along the waysides, scarring the countryside. In addition the skips were all overflowing with rubbish and clearly had not been emptied for some considerable time. We had an appointment with an owner of an apartment in Fondacello near Tiaromino, on the coast, or as the brochure said, 3 minutes drive from the beach. It was also meant to be nestling underneath Mount Etna and boasted some stunning views of this active and largest volcano in Europe. As we approached the Catanian area and Mount Etna, so the black clouds appeared and the rain started. We met the couple just off the autostrada and they showed us the way to Cell Block H, opps sorry, the apartment. The road to the ‘gated complex with swimming pool’ could only be described as an ex-WWII runway which had been abandoned since 1945…except for the fly-tippers, who had clearly been out in force.

Cell Block H (On the right is the swimming pool, empty of course and clearly hadn’t been used for some time)

The Beach…easy 3 minutes drive away…you wouldn’t want visit here even if it was 3 seconds walk…

Why we didn’t just turn around and find somewhere else to stay is a mystery, but old English manners prevailed. We nodded politely, handed over our money and, when alone, sank into depression still trying to encourage each other with remarks like; “Well it is very cheap…”; “It may look better in the sunshine…”

In order to escape this dingy place we decided to take a sight seeing trip to Taormina which had been highly recommended.

Typical Taormina street & lemon stall

Despite the continuing rain and dark clouds this was a beautiful town, but a real tourist trap and the consequential high prices; however it did have a real charm about the place. MOG found an old Roman amphitheatre which had just been discovered…under some old houses!

Roman amphitheatre…not a bad cellar

We sat in silence on our return to Cell Block H, but things were about to deteriorate further. The whole complex was empty, with over grown gardens and an atmosphere of complete desolation. We suddenly realised that when they described a gated community it meant that the ‘gate’ must have been trying to keep people in!

The only other apartment being used was, of course, the one directly below us and its inmates were the family from hell; this included all grand parents, uncles, aunts, cousins…you name it they where there in force and their vocal cords were on full volume and in constant use. Upstairs, the Old Gits sat in a total and stunned silence. The next day we managed to manoeuvre our car around the howling kids and ventured south to Siracusa.

On leaving the Etna region the dark clouds diminished and the sun appeared and we spent a pleasant day strolling around this ancient city with its origins not in Romans times but the Greeks 500 BC! Dear old Archimedes lived and worked here only to be so engrossed in his work that he failed to hear the warning shouts that the Romans were attacking and was promptly run through by a legionnaire…he didn’t shout “Eureka!” that time…

Siracusa’s Duomo

Modern art flourishes here, as well as the ancient, but is this someone else who might have stayed at Cell Block H?

Conversation diminished as we returned northwards and encountered the black clouds and rain and as we opened the gate to our self made prison we could see the other inmates hadn’t escaped and their numbers had if anything increased. On our ‘terrace’ constructed of ‘ancient’, or more accurately crumbling, breeze block we sat gazing upon where Mount Etna was suppose to be, while trying to ignore the pandemonium that was unveiling below us…it was nearing feeding time. Etna, as a young virgin bride, had coyly kept herself veiled in her clouds only occasionally revealing a glimpse of her shoulder… Suddenly MOG snapped and jumped up, grabbed his mobile, proceeded to the noisy terrace, and called the owner, who could clearly hear the pandemonium from the apartment below. A few minutes later he had negotiated the release of the Old Gits and the balance of our payment…, we couldn’t wait for the morning.

Morning did finally arrive to a watery sun and for a few short minutes the clouds cleared to reveal the snowed capped Mount Etna…, in her glory…it gave us pangs to go skiing!

Mount Etna reveals herself…at last

MOG drove swiftly northwards heading for the islands off the north coast of Sicily only to experience yet more rumbling from underneath the car and even more dark clouds and bad weather ahead. A brief discussion resulted and we decided to cut our losses and we found our selves, not on the ferry to the Isole Eolie, but on a ferry to Villa San Giovanni, on the mainland. We had always wanted to take a serious look at the National Park of Cilento and Vallo di Diano, south of Salerno, a reputedly unspoilt area of Italy. After an overnight stop in a lovely hotel in Marina di Maratea, and even more stunning coastal views…, some quite scary especially for FOG, we moved towards our goal.

FOG will be up dating the sister blog:

http://www.facts-oldgitsgapyear.blogspot.com/

in the next few weeks…


Coastline around Sapri: (note where the road goes!)

The next day we had found a house, owned by an Englishman, in Laureana Cilento. Our ‘sat-nav’ had been ‘off the mark’ in Sardinia and Sicily, and she wasn’t doing too well in the south of Italy. She had real problems trying to find this remote hill top town and had us going down tracks that farm vehicles wouldn’t have attempted!

Signposts weren’t that clear!

Finally, with the engine nearly overheating, we stumbled into a tiny piazza and there in front of us was “Blu di Prussia Café”, where we were to pick up our key.

All that can be said at this point is, after a superb lunch and several carafes of wine later with the owners Mimmo (a renowned artist and quite eccentric, more on him later!) & Teresa, his beautiful Australian/Italian wife, that we have fallen on our feet again… I can’t wait to write the next posting…; I’ve just got a feeling this is going to be bit of a crazy week…

View from Laureana Cilento towards Agripoli

Mimmo & MOG – Two artists…one uses a paint brush…!

Mi piace moltissimo, Sardegne

I brought a dictionary but not the Thesaurus; a bit of an error on Male Old Git’s (MOG) part, for I have run out of adjectives and superlatives to describe this fascinating island. I cannot try and describe the rock formations…

























The vast open valleys…












The flora…




















The fauna…
























A rare breed of visiting bird from England…!






The majestic cliffs…



To be woken by a cuckoo and the local pigeons in our villa, (They have an Italian accent as well; for their sentences end in ‘oo’), which apart from the occasional noisy dog, is very tranquil.

















Our apartment within the Villa, Pinetrees, whose owners Carlo & Rita have been the most hospitable hosts anyone could wish for…every time we have been to play tennis at their house Carlo has a cold beer at hand…now that’s hospitality MOG style.
















It has been a joy to stay still for a couple of weeks although we have ventured out locally, one day MOG drove for seven hours down to the South West of the island and back. We did encounter what is reputed to be some of the best beaches in the Mediterranean. I’ll let you be the judged of that…

Who needs to fly all the way to the Caribbean…?

























As we had quickly made up our mind to stay here for 2 weeks we went down to the ‘supermacato’ and stocked up accordingly. MOG bought a huge quantity of minced beef which was not only good quality but a real bargain to boot…however we are sick of the sight of Bolognese, home made beef burgers, chilly…, 4 kilos (9lbs in real money) goes a b*****dy long way! We have however also taken the opportunity to do a lot of walking, playing tennis and explore this quiet part of Sardegna…, mainly to work off all that meat!

Dawn with local ‘guard dog’, Scruffino with the usual back drop of Vine Yards…
















We also went around our area visiting some of the old towns and more Italian seaside areas. The ancient town Osimi Antico was abandoned due to flooding and mud slides from the towering cliffs that stand menacing over it….there are some good bargains for that holiday home though…

Old ruins – may need some attention!
















However with all this peace and tranquillity we have sat down and started to plan what we will do when we return home…we’ve not reached 6 months of the Gap Year yet!

FOG will be updating the Facts-Old Gits Gap Year shortly…

www.facts-oldgitsgapyear.blogspot.com

But, for MOG, the best visit was to the local wine producer…MOG’s ‘barrel’ is on the right…however no such luck…the car suspension just wouldn’t take it…there again I could get rid of FOG…now that’s a thought!

Island hopping…again

First let’s talk about taps… Male Old Git (MOG) is starting to believe there is a conspiracy…! Every tap producer and designer have conspired to produce taps that are totally unfathomable to use and takes the traveller ages and several gallons of water to fathom out exactly how to extract hot or cold water. Even more confusing are how on earth the plugs work… I suspect the tap designers are more interested in obtaining some award than producing a tap which is user friendly…, what ever happened to two taps with plug and chain?

Enough of the whinging… Our last night in France we stayed in Nice and after a brief stroll along the promenade, which could have been anywhere in England, except for the weather of course, we entered the old town; all very charming. The Marina and old harbour area is definitely worth a visit and great for people watching…some of the yachts are mind blowing. Now here is an admission: the people were also friendly…, we must be in the ‘nice’ part of France! (Sorry!)

Typical street scene in Nice




The drive to Genoa was a delight for the road is unbelievable Italian engineering at its best, comprising of numerous tunnels through mountains and bridges over 500 metre gorges…the only problem is whipping off your sunglasses quickly enough on entering the tunnel: or you really would be driving blind. Thank heavens for the SatNav; for we would never have found our ferry terminal, there are so many in Genoa; it is a little bit of a lottery. Of course the OGGY tradition lingers on and we arrived so early we could have knitted a jumper in the time that we had to wait. The GNV ferry to Porto Torres was huge (we hardly felt it move the entire night) and the boarding very organised, but due to it being quiet and off-season, only the self service canteen, serving school dinner type meals was open, not very Italian. Well, at least the beer was cold and the barman a real character, who took a shine to FOG…, feeding her with warm sausage rolls! Disembarkation was, on the other hand, back to the usual Italian chaos but you just can’t get worked up about things somehow…it’s all done with charm, a lot of smiles and, and of course, the arm waving.

Sardinia is, quite simply, a beautiful island. After the congestion of the Riviera, the vast emptiness of this island, especially in the central mountain region, is a pleasant change. The North East of the island around Palau and Baia is the most touristy and expensive but certainly worth a visit. We stayed near San Teodoro, just south of Olbia, and the beaches with the stunning rock formations took your breath away.

View from our beach apartment
















The wild life is everywhere…

A Heron finds his dinner














The local beer has quite a punch and can affect one’s eye sight:

Before After
















FOG commented that the scenery was as good as the Caribbean and as our little apartment was only 20 yards from the beach we trotted, bare footed, down to the water’s edge looking forward to a cooling swim…, where upon the first encounter with the freezing water melted our enthusiasm for a dip… no, we certainly weren’t in the Caribbean.

FOG has now updated our Caribbean travels in the sister blog – Facts- Old Gits Gap Year:

www.facts-oldgitsgapyear.blogspot.com

On our way south down the East coast to our next destination (an apartment in a villa in a more traditional part of Sardinia) we felt compelled to stop on several occasions to take pictures. The natural beauty of the countryside, carpeted in wild flowers, the chorus of bird song provided us with utter tranquillity. Some of the rock formations, similar to those found in one of the North American deserts, left one expecting to see a posse of cowboys, led by John Wayne, riding hell for leather over the next ridge… The road down to Cardedu was an extremely steep gorge and had FOG gripping tightly to the dashboard: no more impromptu picture taking now…

Valley scene in Sardinia













Our villa, Pinetrees, did not disappoint…, and it didn’t take us long to decide to hang our hats here for two weeks. If you are looking for a place to chill out then this is it. This may sound very precious, but we have found the constant travelling very tiring; plus I had to remain stationary enough to complete our tax returns! The old adage is true; “The two certainties in life are: Death and taxes!”

My Italian language is not really improving here as most of the people are speaking a very different local dialect called ‘Sardo’. I can liken it to being back in Abersoch with the locals!

The few days we have spent here have been blessed with gorgeous weather but it is the people that make this area special. The surly grunts from shop keepers, which we have become accustomed to, have been replaced by pleasantries and an almost embarrassing helpfulness. Our hosts, Carlo and Rita, have also been very accommodating, so much so that when I crunched the car on a hump in the driveway, leaving a very loud and worrying rattle, we were immediately escorted to the local garage to access the damage… Having found such a haven, I am really looking forward to the next few weeks; except for completing those blessed tax returns…

Typical coastal scene in Northern Sardinia:

From Barbados to Avignon via Abersoch and....Miss England

The long night flight from Barbados was tempered by being upgraded to a Traveller World Plus seat which meant a little more room...but sleep still avoided us. We arrived at Gatwick ‘knackered’, looking like we hadn’t had a wash in our entire 6 weeks away in the Caribbean. MOG was still dressed in sandals and shorts not quite suitable for a crisp early spring morning taxi drive to Ockley. Undeterred by some surprised looks we drove back to Cheshire in a daze, only to ‘face’ eleven nights of socialising and catching up with old friends, family and found ourselves busy sorting out a few problems at our home, shopping and of course trying to plan the next section of OGGY.

This was interrupted by a ‘holiday’ at a friend’s cottage in Abersoch. Our elder son joined us at Chester and the drive down with an already heavily loaded car must have looked comical as the exhaust system sat barely above the tarmac. FOG loved his company but what a shame the younger one couldn’t come...he then turned up that evening unannounced! Naturally the provisions dried up within a few hours but a happy FOG was first to bed with a smile only a contented mother can muster.

The two boys cooking breakfast

The last of the food was devoured in the morning and was followed by one of those special days walking down beaches followed by tea and clotted cream scones, (have gone soft in the head)! Despite a whole day of continual catching up on everyone’s recent events; many stories remained half told, if at all.

FOG & offspring on beach



The weekend ‘break’ rushed by and we found ourselves preparing for the journey or more accurately ‘tour’ to Sardinia, Sicily and then back to Rome for Mid-June. On our last morning in Cheshire a call from a neighbour, who owns the farm next door, saw MOG dash back for a champagne breakfast…it was ladies day at Chester Races. There he stumbled upon Miss England, dressed resplendent for the occasion. She was not however prepared for the ignominy of being photographed with the one of the OGGY’s...she clearly had not heard of us... and didn’t really comprehend my request for her to become FOG2!

Miss England, or FOG2, meets an ‘unknown’ celebrity...






Rushing back and chatting about my recent encounter, to the somewhat stony faced FOG1; we drove back to France. Then MOG had a spate of forgetful moments. Maps and notes for the forth coming trip were packed away, never to be found; overnight bags left in hotels and MOG found staring aimlessly at the car wondering where he had put a certain vital document. Was this age playing a nasty game or had Miss England bewitched him…

Once again the Channel Tunnel was a dream and we arrived in Troyes with no hotel booking...a bit of an experiment for us... yes, yes, yes we did finally find a tiny annex to sleep in but we weren’t to know it was a French Bank Holiday weekend. This was then compounded by our experience in Avignon. FOG still has a lot more sympathy for the Frogs..., sorry French, than MOG, but for our cousins across the channel that was all about to change.

The next day we arrived in Avignon a lot earlier only to be sucked into the one way system of this delightfully attractive and ancient walled town...for over an hour. We had that afternoon established a hotel right in the heart of the city that did have rooms available at a ‘fair’ rate...well fair for the robbing French b******ds…, sorry, no more insults. Stuck in a one way street the wrong way, but with the hotel frustratingly in sight, FOG leaps out of the car to book-in and ask for help in parking the car. At reception she was informed the room rate had effectively doubled and when she protested she received the Gallic shrug...she returned to the car in a fury; her comments are unprintable. By this time our car had managed to cause almost total gridlock but undeterred MOG called and speaking his best Italian, booked a room at the original rate! MOG then leapt out of the car and ran to the hotel leaving FOG to try and placate several irate French drivers. MOG managed to charm the reception staff telling them all about OGGY and was promptly up-graded to a superior room! However the atmosphere did change when FOG entered the reception…, now if she had been Miss England!

The ancient city of Avignon




Avignon is actually a stunningly beautiful old city and the hotel in question was, in the end, first class...but the lasting memory for MOG was two men kissing, not once, not twice but three times as they met in a bar...will this ever catch on in Cheshire? I HOPE NOT…

I am finding it difficult to find an internet point so please be patient...

The Facts-Old Gits Gap Year Blog hasjust been updated:

http://www.facts-oldgitsgapyear.blogspot.com/