Our travels around the world by bike, barge, boat, camel or horse - Noel & Jackie's Journeys

Noel & Jackie's Journeys

14. Belgium to Italy by bike - Chainsaw Wielding Lady

6/25/2016

We realised that we’d been knocking on the wrong door.

David and Jill (our host’s nearby neighbours – also from the UK), had shown me a picture of their house, ‘nearest to the minimarket on the left.’ What I didn’t realise is they had shown me one half of the house, we were knocking on the other half!

We had stood on the door step feasting on the view. Across the road on a luscious patch of green, an elderly lady in a black dress and head scarf attacked a pile of branches with a chainsaw.

‘I used to have Italian neighbours who did that in Parramatta,’ Noel reminisced. ‘That’s a classic shot – a lovely memory, I should have learned more Italian while I could!’

The lady studiously ignored us and it was only later when we found David and Jill that we released we’d been knocking at the door of the chainsaw wielding lady, not our new friends!

Jill and David invited us in to their pretty house and we were able to ooohhhh and arrrhhhh at their beautifully renovated home. Sadly, they were leaving the following day – we’d love to see them again one day.

But we had a task today – well Noel did. He needed oil for his bike chain – a specific oil in a specific container with a spout. The rustic garage in Limiti was the ideal place.

Much gesticulation raising of voices and loud opinions were heard in Limiti that day – most of which Noel didn’t understand. After Noel had drawn his requirements in the air, the scrunched up, olive, face of the mechanic morphed into understanding – a big light bulb glistening at the top of his head.

The small reservoir of oil, for the chain, on the back of the bike needed filling. The appropriate oil from the shop in Limiti didn’t have a spout on its container, so the mechanic’s mate found a funnel of sorts to add to the assortment of goods.

Building the kit of tools, the mechanic waved down a passing farmer from his tractor to help with the re-filling.

The mechanic held the bottle, the mechanic’s assistant balanced the funnel, the farmer held it all together, the shop owner’s wife held up the farmer’s sleeve (which was becoming more and more oily) and Noel held his head – wondering ‘whatever next!’

But they made a great team and got the job done.

When the lovely wife realised that we were staying at Casa de Lynne’s (okay, I don’t know Italian, but you get the idea), her eyes wrinkled up above her warming smile – I could tell my friend was well respected and loved in this wonderful area she’s chosen a home in.

The lovely people of Limiti store and garage made us feel so welcome, and went over and above any customer services we’ve ever seen! What fun!

Next: Wild Boars and Shepherds

Belgium to Italy by Bike

6/23/2016

A Cat Conundrum

After extolling my new take on internet usage (previous blog - scroll down), we drove to Carosi to check our messages on email, mostly to check the boat advert and sample the Gelato. The internet was slower than my eyes opening in the morning, so we only just managed to arrange a new ad in a magazine for the boat (boat has been reduced - look here) and deal with a few immediate messages and book orders. After thirty minutes of a painfully slow connection I was glad to close the laptop lid and enjoy my frutti tutti!

Shrouded in a misty day that obscured the perfect blue of sky, we trundled home with a few more supplies and upset a neighbour - namely a neighbouring cat. The tabby came trotting along the laneway, tail up, obviously pleased to see us – clearly thinking I am Lynne (the house owner). Noel doesn’t really gel with cats, so he clucked his tongue and disappeared inside. I really didn’t want to get caught up with the cat – I have such a soft spot for animals, as long as they are fine and healthy (this one was) I try to keep away and not become attached.

The cat stopped in its tracks, miffed that I turned my back and went indoors without a stroke or acknowledgement – I felt guilty, how can cats do that to you with just a look?

I spied the cat food in our hosts store room – hmmmm this cat was expecting more than a tickle under the chin. I peered out the window, it turned around, tail high, showing its bottom to me as it swayed off back the other way. The following day, I saw where the cat lived – clearly loved and well fed! Cats!

Without wanting a big bike ride, we rode to the bottom of the mountain behind the house, and walked in the hills - we wanted to visit Grotta Sant Angelo.

Next: Chainsaw Wielding Lady

Belgium to Italy by bike

6/21/2016

Language Conundrums - Shops - internet - withdrawal

Each evening Noel studies Italian, repeating ciaos and arrevderchis in a beautiful Italian accent. It makes me smile.

Even better when out and about I can now defer to him, as he knows more Italian than me. He makes a point of doing this when we are in France – so it is my turn to sit back and smile.

But I noticed a strange phenomenon. When I was learning French, when putting my (limited) skills to practice I would listen to the conjugations, analyse them and try to respond accordingly. This took but a few seconds, by then, Noel had understood the gist of the conversation and answered for me.

I do the same thing in Italy. As I am not learning and don’t have to worry, so I don’t really think, I just pick up the key words and what’s going on – the language is similar to French and Spanish. Most Italians get the gist of what I am saying when I use my rudimentary French. Meanwhile, Noel is pondering his sentence construction and missing out on the entire conversation!

It’s amusing for me to watch shopkeepers tell me, ‘you have good Italian,’ (and I really really don’t), while Noel looks on bemused. It’s a little taste of what I feel like in France!

I’m feeling pretty smug (unjustifiably so) with my new (not really) skill! But, in fact, I feel healthier too, with my new outlook on life and how I fill my time.

Our (temporary) place of solitude!

I've been slowly withdrawing from the internet. Usually I am tapping away on social media every day. We are not connected here in Italy (these blogs are posted well after the event), and it is wonderful. I can fill my day with whatever I please (of course I write a bit each day), but suddenly I have so much time! My continually muzzy head has eased and my eyes are far happier and relaxed.

I plan to use my laptop less and less, until I am down to say, once a week. Do you think I can do it? It may take a few months, but I am committed, especially now I have felt the health and time benefits. Of course there are business matters I have to deal with on line, so I’ll always be popping into say ‘hi’ and catch up on work.

Follow me on internet/life/time journey. Italy has so much to offer - it is beautiful, calming and has taken us back in time and back to nature - it has also made me re-evaluate my life and re-confirm that my next career move - becoming a farm recluse - is the right career path for me - I wonder how I'll go...

This is where I plan my farm-girl-recluse retirement - guess where!?

Next: Lies? And a Cat Conundrum

Belgium to Italy by bike

6/19/2016

Views, Free Stuff, and Freedom

On our return from the Sunday market excursion we stopped in Pennapiedimonte. A charming village built on the crest of the mountain that includes settlements that date back to the Samnite period. It has an eye-widening view across the entire valley. The houses built here demonstrate the abilities of the master stonemasons. Buildings are dug out of the rock and finished with local stone.

This is actually Palambara, which is very similar to Pennapiedimonte (which has disappeared from my photos!)

Views are hard to capture by camera, not with lack of trying. As we glide home for lunch our noses are assaulted by sweet jasmine and wild rose that fills the air. The smell, like a lover’s hair, will be remembered forever as Italy. This place is stealing my heart and I've purchased several properties in my mind (renovators’ delights) along the way.

A short walk in into the mountains in the afternoon, has us gasping for breath. Tomorrow we'll ride the first bit on the bike and venture further up the track on foot. It is gloriously devoid of cars, people, and rubbish. Paddocks are left alone to do their thing and are lush meadows, dotted carelessly with healthy daisies and rich clover, the odd olive grove changes the view.

The free deep-green bunches of parsley in the supermarket is the first time I’ve ever been given anything ‘free’ in a supermarket.
'This is Italy,’ the lady of the till said, ‘it grows everywhere.'

As 5 pm approaches our thoughts turn to the Italian wine we must sample this evening - this is one of our jobs of the day. It’s been a hectic day:

So far we’ve:
Assembled a clothes rail.
Filled the dish washer.
Swept the floor
Done bike maintenance.

Life is so civilised. Usually we have several jobs going on at once. Day to day jobs (as above) are usually squeezed in around umpteen different tasks to earn a crust, and are only completed because we've run out of clothes and food, or are hungry.

It is total contrast to our regular existence - it’s bliss and a welcomed relief from the feeling of waking up each day, running around like idiots to fall into bed – what feels – like two minutes later!

Next: Language Conundrums and Internet Withdrawal

Tornelli! - Belgium to Italy by Bike

6/17/2016

We Don’t Have This In Australia

Fresh flowers’ vibrant perfume wafts across the cobbled market square, clothes and scarves line the next street; freshly cooked chicken and pork are carved into portions, the delicious smell causing a waterfall in my mouth.

Guardiagrele is positioned on a hill at the foot of the Maiella (national park). It is rich in history and culture. The town is entered through the Porta San Giovanni, next to the local craft shops of coppersmiths and ironsmiths. The church of Santa Maria Maggiore, built of rock from the Maiella, is a place we seek refuge from the warm sun and busy streets – cool walls and harmonising choir offer make our hearts swell and bodies cool.

En route to Guardiagrele (the back roads!)

Back to the cobbled streets, we order two coffees, thick dark liquid in tiny cups. Noel points to two small pastries, we've no idea what they are, but the idea is to try local foods.

Delicious - filled with custardy chocolate!

I don't take sugar in coffee - that is, until Iived in France, in Italy I have half the coffee and twice the sugar. Now I understand how to enjoy it - I love it! The homemade pastry is light, crisp and filled with wonderful chocolate gooey cream. The total cost is €3.70, for two coffees and two pastries.

We sit and people watch. Not one person is in their daggies or sloppy-Sundays.Tight, crisp jeans hug women's thighs, pressed neat trousers sit straight on men’s tall legs. Coiffered hair is perfect for both men and women. It has me pulling my pony tail tighter, helmet hair is not a good look and I can't remember whether I even brushed it this morning.

An English couple stroll passed, incongruous with slightly wrinkled clothing, uncombed hair and touch of the bewildered. I realise we mirror their appearance. We were not done up in our finery as the Italians are. Suits, high heels, make up and jewellery, it really is somewhere I don't fit! I've brought along one pair of old jeans, just my black boots, a t-shirt and 2 shirts and then all the motorbike jumpers, which are for warmth not fashion!

We wander the streets, fascinated with the market fashion, straight from the cat walk. It’s enough to just absorb the local culture, the soft accents with the odd harsh words floating around us - never words in anger, simply passion - with the famous waving of arms and hands as only the Italians can do.

What does travelling mean to you?

Next: Views, Free Stuff, and Freedom

Italy! Belgium to Italy by bike

6/15/2016

A surprise visitor and old customs

Sunday morning, it’s market day.

First, breakfast in the sunshine on the veranda. How long would this perfect weather hold?

As I am changing by the bedroom window which no one ever walks by, a farmer strolls by - had he looked up he would have had an eyeful.
The next moment there's a firm knock at the door.
It can only be that guy - oh dear, I hope he didn't see me!
I heard a conversation exchange and I couldn't tell if it is friendly or not.
'What's up?'
'This guy here is asking for coffee!'
'Oh okay, we'd better invite him in!'
I couldn't tell Noel that I had been half naked near the window, and this may be why he was here!

Tornelli (in the region of Abruzzo) is like stepping back a hundred years. Basic farm equipment, meadows dappled with buttercups - just left to be paddocks, old customs and courtesies. It's Sunday but our visitor is working hard in the surrounding meadows.
He wipes the sweat from his red face and props his pruning shears by the front door. Apologising with his cap in hand (literally), he instructs Noel to find his wife so she can make coffee. That much I understood.

What he didn't understand is that Noel makes the coffee in our household. Our guest/visitor apologises again and talks to us in slow Italian as if it would help. It doesn't.

But with our mix of French, Spanish, an Italian dictionary (thank you Lynne!), and a few words Noel has learned, we find out he is working the land and wants some morning tea. It feels fitting that he just asks the nearest house to supply this sustenance. He's just unlucky he calls upon such ignorant people.

He explains with passionate hand gesticulations that he’s a neighbour of Julia and Chez - whoever they are, but they sound okay.

He asks for some bread and jam, we feed him olive oil, bread and tomatoes, he’s quite satisfied and asks for strong coffee in a small mug.

Sample of the coffee served - we didn't have these lovely pastries for our guest - but we had them elsewhere.... keep reading next blog..

And boy do they serve it small here - potent, knock your socks off, tea-spoon stand up, coffee, just a mouthful (or perhaps two sips) and sugar.

Our friend, Archiler (phonetically spelt) gratefully sips his coffee and munches on the snack. I offer more. Noel manages to tell him that in Australia he was once a carpenter and understands how physically demanding trade/physical work is. As Noel goes to pour the remainder of the coffee for him and me - Archiler jumps up and bids us ciao.

'Well that was interesting.'
'Can you imagine that happening in Potters Bar? Or Greenwell Point? People would be locking their doors and calling the police saying there's a mad man around.’

But we are the strangers here not him. We are in his country, in a village where things are done differently – perhaps how they should be.

As Noel and I sat and ate our tomato, olive oil, and bread we agreed (and I've said before) that this is what travelling is all about. We've met a working local and fed him without exchanging the same language. We've learned about hospitality in the hamlets of Italy, in the country and perhaps how it was done and where only pockets are holding to this tradition with their finger tips.

After our pleasant interlude, fortified with coffee and bread, we hop on the bike to the local market.

Next: We Don’t Have This In Australia

Belgium to Italy by Bike - 11

6/13/2016

Dance Floor and Yodelling

Although we'd just arrived in the enchanting village of Tornelli and despite our limbs heavy with fatigue we had to shop. With just a five minute bike ride down the road we met Sabia in the mini-market. Strangely, my basic French convinced her I had a smattering of Italian!

We filled our basket with local cheese, fresh bread, fresh rich tomatoes, plump olives and wine – we were set.

With our bodies finally still, but our heads still ‘travelling’ we utilised our host’s wonderful CD collection and celebrated our safe arrival and achieving our fifteen year old dream.

We couldn’t stop staring at the view. Proud mountains reached up into the sky to the west. North the undulating green hills eased our tired eyes. East stretched our vision to the glimmering ocean. South allowed us to ponder the local building design, private gardens, and olive groves.

Many contented sighs floated off into the cool evening air.

The large, cool marble floor in the lounge created a wonderful dance floor – fortunately the neighbouring houses were empty, the cats must have thought there was new animal friends in town. (Noel usually likens my singing to yodelling, but a screeching cat is about the same).

A quieter moment!

We slept well, downstairs, for the bedrooms are downstairs and the kitchen/diner and lounge (with the fabulous veranda) are upstairs to make full use of the height and therefore the view.

With no internet or phone we indulged in sleeping, eating, and reading, with a fair bit of staring into space.

We watched a movie to help our minds calm and even worked out the dish-washer (living on boats most of our married/travelling lives we’ve not had such luxurious equipment!)

As we settled into our second night, and indulged in local olives, there was a knock on the door, Jill and David are Lynne’s neighbours (5 mins away) and friends. I instantly felt at home with this pair. They recommended the market in Guardiagrele and stopping in Pennapiedimonte for the views right over the entire valley.

Our exploration of Italy was about to start.

Next: A Surprise Visitor and Old Customs

Belgium to Italy by Bike - 10

6/11/2016

Abruzzo: New Friends Who Couldn’t Converse, But Could Certainly Communicate!

‘Look for signs to Limiti,’ I called to Noel. ‘I’m not sure of the directions, there’s no reference point.’

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.

Both Noel and I enjoy some cultural tourist attractions, but neither of us has frantic and absorbing drive to visit every church, ruin, town square, museum... we like what we like and that's enough. At times, when chatting to other travellers, it can seem like a competition!

'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.

Lynne's wonderful house!

We turned around and sure enough there he was waiting in the road, knowing we'd twig who he was and turn around soon enough.

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.

Lynne’s 'unfinished' house is perfect and so very close to being finished. She doesn't have a million dollar view, she has three! She's renovated the house with neat panache and a fanfare of style. Spacious rooms laced with Italian and English decor, a practical kitchen and enormous en suites - we felt instantly at home. Wrapping half way around the entire house the veranda allows you to absorb the unique and splendid vistas.

I think we'll like it here.

Next: Dance Floor and Yodelling

Belgium to Italy by Bike 9 - A new type of Therapy

6/9/2016

Three day counselling session

I had three days of therapy.
All day therapy.
It's a bit of a revelation for me - I've never had counselling of this kind before.

It took the form of sitting on the back of a motorbike. Thoughts came and went, they didn't dwell. I have my best ideas sitting on the narrow seat, buffeted by the wind, watching the countryside rush by.

But, surprisingly, on the third day I'd had enough.

Thoughts come and go - especially with incredible views such as these!

I had allowed the old images of my past to unreel in my mind, the hurtful comments I've collected far too recently, the moments of fear, stupidity, and too many regrets.

At one point I found myself crying, the tears rolled and my nose ran (not to be recommended while wearing a bike helmet), the raw emotion took me by surprise - I actually said 'oh, I’m crying.' As if it was happening to someone else. I also laughed out loud and occasionally cringed and shook my head – I may have blushed at some point too (totally recommended in a bike helmet!)

But I skated through my achievements, re-lived adventures, smiled at the life of laughter Noel and I have created and share.

I cringed at my errors, my own thoughtless comments, ideas, and actions.

I came up with a new invention - it's linked to travel, now that's a surprise!

We've created a life of fun together!

On the last day, I'd had enough of me and my voice; my analysis, summaries, and conclusions. I didn't have the answers and although I felt better, I didn't want to hear any more. I needed to talk to someone else, be released from inside my own head into another world - whether Noel's head, a movie, or just sitting in a cafe where other people’s thoughts and conversations exist.

We were in Italy - travelling from Belgium to Abruzzo. This blog will continue with our journey in Italy with stunning pictures and fun stories to make you smile and to make you think.

In the back of my mind, I am already hatching a plan to avoid another big therapy session with myself on the return trip. Perhaps a radio via a small earphone in my helmet, perhaps a kindle strapped to Noel's back, so I can read as we hurtle along. Oh! I feel another invention coming on!

Have you had an unplanned therapy session?

Next: Abruzzo: New Friends Who Couldn’t Converse, But Could Certainly Communicate!

Belgium to Italy by Bike - 8

6/7/2016

Eaterly!

The sign indicated the traffic was intensifying ahead. At the next stop, Modena, we pulled off the highway. At a truckies stop we asked for help and they pointed across the road, to a Hotel.

Hotel Emelia was once a grand old house, creaky timbers, thick walls, mimicking the home of my childhood and making me feel right at home. The rambling house was musty, but clean and comfortable.

‘You can put your bike in our garage,’ the Manager said. ‘No extra charge.’ Opposite the hotel was the 'only restaurant in walking distance.'

At the hotel we washed the day off, gulped down a delicious Peroni beer and once again took our lives in our hands crossing just a two-lane road, thick with cars vying to reach home after a day at work.

We didn’t care about finding a supermarket and eating a cold, home-made dinner, we wanted pasta and lots of it. Our nerves were shattered, limbs jangled, our heads spun.

We joined the truck-drivers, queuing for the restaurant to open. Thirty hungry men sat, ordered, and drank. The waiter told us what we were having and disappeared. We didn’t care as long as we experienced Italy – okay it was a truck stop, but it was a family run restaurant too.

A carafe of white wine thumped onto our table. We were in Mamas kitchen. A teetering plate of tomato spaghetti slid under our noses.
‘And that’s just the starter!’

Image courtesy of rakratchada torsap

We munched through homemade spaghetti with all the relish of strung out travellers. We gulped cheap wine and didn’t think we’d eat the steak and chips that followed – but our plates were wiped clean!

We wondered how we were going to survive, we had one more day of highway battle to deal with. The Tomtom revealed that our journey would double if we took the back roads.

The following day we skirted through Bologna, and the traffic, thankfully, backed off - we were wise now and Noel is an expert driver. Still he couldn’t relax for one second – there were a few unprintable words muttered at the lunatic drivers… as for my lunacy, that's on the next blog. It's a new therapy – three entire days of it! Yikes!

Come and see what goes on in my head – if you dare!

Next: A New Type of Therapy – Three Day Counselling Session!