Abruzzo: New Friends Who Couldn’t Converse, But Could Certainly Communicate!
With important elements missing from our directions and our TomTom unhelpfully refusing to acknowledge some smaller towns, we were lost.
The switchbacks led us up valleys and back down. My neck ached taking in the wonderful richness of Italy’s countryside.
The opulent soil crafted bright greens - land shone. The weather remained perfect, a crazy blue dazzled from the capacious sky.
Medieval villages came and went, ruined farmhouses – carrying an air of pride - lined lush fields. I felt the stirring of excitement, this is what we'd come to see, to experience. A new culture, living as locals do. To me, that’s travelling; meeting locals, shopping where they do, living as they do.
'There's Limiti!' I shouted out of my helmet. He stopped rapidly as I clutched the handholds, we eased left. Lynne's, the house owner, directions actually worked a treat. The names of the tiny villages that our TomTom refused to acknowledge where enough to find our way.
As we glided back down into anther valley we thought it best to double check we were going in the right direction.
A strong, stout lady, in a plain black dress and head scarf stood in a driveway, Italian oozed from every molecule.
She had no English, we had not one Italian word to help us, but this is never a problem. The numerous and varied countries we've visited have had languages we couldn't begin to fathom. A friendly smile, gesticulating, pictures and written names are plenty enough to find our way.
This lovely lady, creased her sun dried skin further with our attempts at communicating our appreciation of her help. We tried to convince her to come with us and be our guide - she laughed shyly and we squeezed each other’s hands in farewell - new friends who couldn't speak to each other, but could certainly communicate.
The smile remained on my face as we continued down the overgrown laneway, my cheeks pressing against my helmet. We motored by a guy standing out the front of his house. He looked at us intently.
'That may be David,' I said. 'Oh, look there's the B&B we’ve been looking for, on the left not the right, so that must've been David!'
David was the manager of Lynne’s property.
A fine cup of tea, a friendly English man, and fantastic views greeted us to the area of Palombara. Refreshed, we followed David back up the hill, across the road and up a steep, narrow winding track to our accommodation.
Next: Dance Floor and Yodelling