Three Euros, 840km, and, er, a couple of hours.

Oh, I forgot to mention fences. Like those around the service area on the motorway. Our friends at hitchwiki had left us clues on how to leave Bologna, so we took a bus out of town, investing all our remaining money spare 30 cents or so. What we didn’t know was that the area was under construction, so a lot had changed, and we couldn’t see a (legal) way of getting into the rest area. Also, it was hot. And our backpacks heavy. And then, a car came out the gate and its driver told us he’d call the police if he caught us entering.

We backed off and he followed us in his car, gosh.

– “Where are you, going, anyway?”

– “We want to get towards Modena, then Milan”

– “Ah, well, then you’re on the wrong side anyway, this one goes to Florence. If you want to get to Modena, take this underpass, walk around the fence, and there’ll be an entrance”

– “…Okay…”

He was right. We didn’t quite believe it, the way all around the fence was long, we nearly gave up – but we had a ukulele and could sing and hope we’d see some figs on the way and ultimately, we slipped through a gap right into a super-busy service station.

By that time, it was already 5pm, also because we’d spent all morning cooking up random leftover food in the hostel kitchen (you have to eat, right?). After some starting difficulties, we got a ride by a Neapolitan lorry driver, then by a guy driving Italian branded goods over to rich people in Switzerland, who got us up to the Swiss border. We watched all the full cars (“I mean, it’s okay that people want children, but why do they also have to take them on holiday??”) and the sunset and thought about where to put up our tent. Before we had to, however, we met a young German couple coming back from Rimini. We spent most of the night together, until they left us about 70km before our final destination. It was something inhumane like 4am, but we quickly found a really sweet Turkish-born truck driver who brought us closer still. Still in darkness, we asked in a car that turned out to be going to a games convention.

Since my house wasn’t exactly on their way, they dropped us off in another suburb and we had a lovely sunrise walk to then join (or rather: wake up) my family for breakfast.

That journey is over, and incredibly, this part of summer, too. I’ll be back in Oxford in a week or so and there will be no time for travels for the whole year, until that degree’s done. Well… I don’t really believe it (yet).

For now, a song including the line “This is how the summer ends”. Not quite coincidentally also the song we sang during that last Italian sunset.

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Breakfast in Italy

I was waking up to mild light reflecting off terra cotta coloured walls under a blue, blue sky. After un momento stupefatto, I grinned an extra large holiday-grin. We actually are in Italy. And it actually feels like Italy. In the course of four days, we came from the plains of norrthern Germany, traversed the hills mounding into the Alps, shivered on Swiss service areas (9°C), stayed in the beautiful Ticino (Tessin) area and then, yesterday, crossed the border to Italy.

photo 5

Yesterday was one of those days that seem way too easy and way too good. Not that I’d complain of that. We started off tasting grapes in this quiet stone-built village where we’d spent the night with Lina’s grandmother and the Swiss-Italian family friends she was visiting. We got a first lift out of Valle Maggia (the Maggia valley), until Locarno.

Our first taste of mediterranean generosità came in form of a gentleman who drove half an hour more to get us to Lugano. And then, a wonderful encounter happened. We were already in a good mood when we waited in Lugano, since someone who’d seen us from his office block had drawn us a beautiful sign saying “Italy”. After about half an hour in this spot, an Italian lady in her fifties stopped and offered to drive us to Como. During the ride, we shared our excitement about Italy and its warmth, and about tasting true pizza, pasta, and ice cream again. Just before leaving us in Como, this wonderful Emanuela said “Do you have time for some ice cream, your first Italian gelato?”. Of course we did, and she ended up inviting us to both pizza and ice cream and a wonderful afternoon in the outskirts of Como. While eating, she shared her story and how meeting His Holiness the Dalai Lama changed her life. Radiating goodwill, she drove us to our next spot, repeating how happy she was that she had met us and that she’d been able to help. We continued with full stomachs, hearts, and minds.

2016-08-11 route (Valle Maggia-Modena)

Another person that day will certainly make it onto our top-list of cool rides. I spoke to the guy on a station out of Milan and described him to Lina as “the chilled American in the big car who’s going to take a nap now”. We got a lift before he woke up, but met him again on a service area further along the way, where he stopped while we were singing a song in the evening sun.

It turned out that he had been a street musician for ages (playing in front of the Berlin wall a week before it fell), who then went into the film business and now works for James Cameron in New Zealand. For the summer holiday, however, he’d come to Italy to tour street art festivals, doing some stuff on guitars involving drilling machines (I didn’t get that, either). Also, he was Canadian, if you care to know. Anyway, he gave us some tips for our future busking career after we sang and played a song on the ukulele (“Yeah, you’re good, this will work, find yourself a spot with good acoustics”). Now, in Italy, it all seems possible. Perhaps our next challenge will be to finance our own pizza with our music?