Rapallo, Italy
Travel day, back in the saddle and on the road. Packed up the car first, a tall order as we had completely emptied it of our gear and then resorted everything after the laundry day. Finally ready to go, we set off with Hal programmed to get us to Genova, Italy.
But, there were problems. The area of Cannes that we were in had very narrow streets, and tall building such as our hotel. Hal, the poor fellow, couldn't see as many of his satellites as he needed, so his initial instructions were very confused. And were all followed by 'Recalculating' immediately as he alternately received and lost satelite information. That went on for about five minutes as we wound our way along the narrow streets, following the street signs directing us to Antibes which we knew was partway to Nice and in the direction we wanted to go via the 'lower road' to keep us off the 'A8' superhighway. Eventually, we got clear of the buildings and Hal got all his satellites in view and then he was happy and quit 'recalculating'.
We stayed with the lower road through Antibes, but then took the superhighway in order to bypass the scrum of downtown Nice that the lower road would have dumped us into. That wouldn't have been pretty, so the best bet is to get above the City and pass it by on the beltways that circle the big cities. This we did in good order, and soon we were flying along at our usual 140 km/h rate, headed north and east toward Italy. Along the way we stopped for gas, and as luck would have it we were high on the hill above Monaco. The lovely little Principality was spread out below us, looking pretty in pink on the edge of the blue Mediteranean. Quite a sight, and Jan and I took a bunch of pictures to celebrate. Then we headed off again, out of the reststop and within a few minutes we were crossing into Italy.
How did we know we were in Italy? Two things, first there was a sign that said so, and second the style of driving changed dramaticaly. How, you ask? Well, the French are rude drivers, and very fast, but fairly disciplined in that they are at least sort of predictable and they change lanes in a quick but clean and direct way, usually with a signal. Not so the Italians. They are all over the place, and they do it quickly. Their heroes are obviously the Formula 1 pilots, and they treat the highway as a racecourse. Anyone familiar with racing knows that there are two ways to stay in the lead once you get there. One is to go as fast as you can, and the other is to make it difficult to pass by changing your track position and making yourself a big obstacle to get by. This the Italians do by straddling the white dashed line between the middle lane and the fast lane. Doesn't bother me, I'm not usually trying to pass the fast cars anyway, I'm just keeping up with traffic. But the slower cars do it too, very commonly (but not exclusively) in the corners. So the net effect is a sort of crowd madness like a bunch of people jockeying for an escalator during Christmas shopping in a big mall, only here it is done at highway speeds. It's like their maleness is compromised if they allow another car to pass without a challenge. So everybody, even the women drivers, attempt to leave a big footprint on the road by weaving around in their lane and spending as much time as possible with their vehicle straddling a white line. A bit unnerving, but we're learning to adapt.
Things reached a crisis point in the Genova beltway system of roads. In rugby terms, it was a 'loose ruck' as opposed to an orderly 'scrum', just a dog-pile of cars going helter-skelter down the road, a tsunami of egos rat-racing toward Genova. Jan and I were OK at that point, though. Well, not so much OK as catatonic and resigned to the impending crash and burn of our own destruction. Jan was babbling incoherently beside me, eyes wide as saucers and drooling on the map in her lap. She stopped babbling soon after this point, and just stared at the road and the jangle of cars ahead. What did it to us both was the tunnels and bridges of the highway. You see, the part of the French and Italian coastline that we were traversing today is very steep and rocky. The lower road, the old highway among the small villages, would take four times as long to drive as it goes up and down, round and round, up and down, and repeat. Up here, on the superhighway, we go through the mountains in tunnels that are 2.5 kilometers long, then across deep valleys on bridges that seem a thousand feet high. Ok so far? But this is where the Italian drivers really like to play, this is where the lane straddling really takes over, in the tunnels and on the bridges. If the ratrace gives you the adrenaline high, then doing it in a tunnel and on a high bridge gives you the steroid-shift on that adrenaline high. That was today's playground.
After Genova's exits were in the mirror, things settled down and Jan started talking again. Or perhaps I was just able to listen again, I'm not sure. In any case, she proposed a place called Rapallo, just north of the Cinque Terre district that is our objective. Is it off the road, I asked? Yes, said Jan. Right, said I, where's the exit. We found it in short order, and left the highway, down toward the sea and a small town below. Luck would have it that we spotted an extremely rare parking spot in the brilliant sunshine, just beside the beach promenade, directly across from a lovely restaurant with outside tables that beckoned. We fed the meter two hours worth of coins, crossed the road, and sat down. Jan had foccacia bread and gorgonzola cheese and pears, I had Spaghetti Bolognaise, and we had an outstanding Pinot Grigio wine. After the wonderful lunch, we had no taste left for the highway and went in search of a hotel, which we found. The beauty of the off season is massive availability of accomodations, and lower prices, so we took a four-star hotel and were in paradise.
The rest of the day was spent in wandering, sitting, picture-taking, eating, and drinking. We both absolutely love the melodic Italian language, and the people themselves are unfailingly polite, happy, and friendly. We want to learn Italian and stay here. Our afternoon and evening were perfect in the sunshine and warm air of Rapallo. Tired and happy, we went to bed and slept the sleep of the just and pure.
Tomorrow, toward Cinque Terre.
