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Sort of a roundup of the trip I just took. Fascinating for the most part.
The title
Borrowed and assumed, but that's life. Italian drivers have a reputation for being the worst drivers in the world. The guide book I'd been lent suggested that this was undeserved, but that the drivers there didn't win any medals for safe driving.
This is actually regional. We started in the north of Italy and worked out that it wasn't too insane. Heading south, it became fucking mental.
"I know, I'm driving a big truck, fully laden, and there's a car approaching in the passing lane. Great - when it's ten feet from me, I'll indicate to go into their lane and then do it to allow the passenger to scream like a girl!"
"Hey, there's still some of the slip road on left, so I'll use both lanes until it goes!"
"So many lanes, which one to choose? I know, I'll use both! For a mile or two!"
Inside Rome, it was worse. We didn't drive in Rome.
Day one
Wednesday - flight landed at Marco Polo airport in Italy. Fortunately, my travelling companion - a chum by the name of Cab - had brought a satnav device. One hire car collection later, we headed towards Magliono where the Hotel Style was located. Three stars, so should be reasonable? It wasn't too bad, but it had charming peeling wallpaper. Turns out that the star rating in Italy is based on available facilities, such as TV in the room and air conditioning.
Air conditioning good!
Turns out that the phrase book I'd been lent was good, but most of my Italian was pointing at the menu and looking for numbers on the bill. Thus began Cab's quest to consume every Pizza Margherita on the continent (it can have alternate spellings, but it's the cheese, tomato, and basil version).
Legally speaking, any place serving food in Italy has to provide a receipt, and the patron has to take it. Bizarre!
Day two
Drove down towards Venice, parked at a place recommended by the guide book, and caught a ferry to the main islands of Venice there (very reasonable - fifteen euros for a return ticket), and very shortly after we were in Venice and sweating. We also heard a large group of Germans singing the 'oom pah pah' song. Novel greeting.
Venice is incredible. Dead ends, bridges over smaller canals, and even their own leaning tower! Meh - they built on water, so they got a leaning tower as well. I saw gondolas, I saw canals, and I saw a whole array of impressive architecture. There were also many, many stalls selling tat - stuff aimed at tourists.
St Mark's square needs to be seen to be believed. However, do not sit down to eat there. It's semi-reasonably priced by the standards of tourist traps, but then the bill comes and there are additions - a supplement for sitting there on top of the menu, and a supplement for listening to the live music. Stuff you didn't realise. We didn't worry about that too much as we'd filled up on gelatto (Italian ice cream).
We considered a gondola ride, but as two heterosexual chaps we figured that seventy-five euros for a fifty minute 'romantic' ride was a touch excessive.
We got lost, several times. The tickets for the ferry included a map, but it didn't tell you which of the bridges and alleys were dead ends. Cab has a Google phone with a compass on - he never thought that he'd need that feature, but it turned out to be very useful indeed.
We sat down at one place to eat, about a half-mile from St Mark's. Cab hit the Margherita Pizza again, whereas I went for an escalope in white wine sauce. I also asked for coke. What size did I want? Well, let's just say I was thirsty and asked for the biggest size they had.
"Grande?" the waiter asked with an impressed look on his face. When it came out, I was impressed. I'm guessing it was between 1.5 and two litres in one glass. Cab went for a normal size.
"Coke pour homme," I told him, pointing at mine. "Coke pour femme," I added, pointing at his normal-sized glass.
I could have easily had another. I had my backpack on and I was sweating far more than I should have had any right to. Unfortunately, the guide book (rough guide to Italy) that a chum at work had lent me was in there, and I think I owe him a new copy due to 'water damage'.
It's worth noting that when you get lost in Venice on a hot day and make it back to the return spot with a half-hour to spare (after taking far too many wrong turns), you don't really mind spending three euros on a bottle of cola.
The evening found us eating in a restaurant and looking at the guide book to see where we should stay next. We'd only booked two nights at the hotel.
Day three
We drove towards Gardaland, our next destination. The area is around the Lago Del Garda, a large lake - and we wanted to hit the theme parks there. It's close to Verona, so we started hunting out prices of local places. After a few quotes, we hit the googlephone and laptop to book online, and saved ourselves a damned fortune!
We got to our hotel and checked in, and then headed to one complex of a theme park - Canevaworld/cineworld or something like that - for the afternoon. Cab had bought two hats in Venice. He got a third for free for buying two drinks.
They had a 'Rambo' show in live action, which was fairly entertaining. A U-boat simulation ended up in several people without the optional ponchos getting soaked. A 'magma2' ride ended up with me getting wet through (sort of a truck ride through deliberately hostile terrain), which soaked the phrase book (the other one a chum at work had lent me).
It was a fairly reasonable place, but I'd spotted a Medieval Times outside, so I bought the meal for the night. As soon as the park closed, that place opened - had never been to one before (don't think there are any in the UK), and I'd seen one in a film before. I even bought the photo that was taken as we went in. I have to agree with Cab - the king and I were separated at birth. He got to stand next to the princess. The resemblance wasn't uncanny.
"Eat with your fingers and don't throw anything into the arena" we were told. That's when they provided us with heavy pewter plates.
There was some pretty good horsemanship on display, and our knight was doing fairly well for a while, but then he got knocked out of the tournament. Cab was certain that the dastardly black knight who came in later to bugger up all the tournament was our guy in a new costume, as were a four-pack of chaps from the colonies. We all cheered on the black knight with some gusto at this point.
He may have been defeated, but we cheered him on anyway, and Cab's intuition was correct when he was finally unmasked.
More to come.
Rapscallion
The title
Borrowed and assumed, but that's life. Italian drivers have a reputation for being the worst drivers in the world. The guide book I'd been lent suggested that this was undeserved, but that the drivers there didn't win any medals for safe driving.
This is actually regional. We started in the north of Italy and worked out that it wasn't too insane. Heading south, it became fucking mental.
"I know, I'm driving a big truck, fully laden, and there's a car approaching in the passing lane. Great - when it's ten feet from me, I'll indicate to go into their lane and then do it to allow the passenger to scream like a girl!"
"Hey, there's still some of the slip road on left, so I'll use both lanes until it goes!"
"So many lanes, which one to choose? I know, I'll use both! For a mile or two!"
Inside Rome, it was worse. We didn't drive in Rome.
Day one
Wednesday - flight landed at Marco Polo airport in Italy. Fortunately, my travelling companion - a chum by the name of Cab - had brought a satnav device. One hire car collection later, we headed towards Magliono where the Hotel Style was located. Three stars, so should be reasonable? It wasn't too bad, but it had charming peeling wallpaper. Turns out that the star rating in Italy is based on available facilities, such as TV in the room and air conditioning.
Air conditioning good!
Turns out that the phrase book I'd been lent was good, but most of my Italian was pointing at the menu and looking for numbers on the bill. Thus began Cab's quest to consume every Pizza Margherita on the continent (it can have alternate spellings, but it's the cheese, tomato, and basil version).
Legally speaking, any place serving food in Italy has to provide a receipt, and the patron has to take it. Bizarre!
Day two
Drove down towards Venice, parked at a place recommended by the guide book, and caught a ferry to the main islands of Venice there (very reasonable - fifteen euros for a return ticket), and very shortly after we were in Venice and sweating. We also heard a large group of Germans singing the 'oom pah pah' song. Novel greeting.
Venice is incredible. Dead ends, bridges over smaller canals, and even their own leaning tower! Meh - they built on water, so they got a leaning tower as well. I saw gondolas, I saw canals, and I saw a whole array of impressive architecture. There were also many, many stalls selling tat - stuff aimed at tourists.
St Mark's square needs to be seen to be believed. However, do not sit down to eat there. It's semi-reasonably priced by the standards of tourist traps, but then the bill comes and there are additions - a supplement for sitting there on top of the menu, and a supplement for listening to the live music. Stuff you didn't realise. We didn't worry about that too much as we'd filled up on gelatto (Italian ice cream).
We considered a gondola ride, but as two heterosexual chaps we figured that seventy-five euros for a fifty minute 'romantic' ride was a touch excessive.
We got lost, several times. The tickets for the ferry included a map, but it didn't tell you which of the bridges and alleys were dead ends. Cab has a Google phone with a compass on - he never thought that he'd need that feature, but it turned out to be very useful indeed.
We sat down at one place to eat, about a half-mile from St Mark's. Cab hit the Margherita Pizza again, whereas I went for an escalope in white wine sauce. I also asked for coke. What size did I want? Well, let's just say I was thirsty and asked for the biggest size they had.
"Grande?" the waiter asked with an impressed look on his face. When it came out, I was impressed. I'm guessing it was between 1.5 and two litres in one glass. Cab went for a normal size.
"Coke pour homme," I told him, pointing at mine. "Coke pour femme," I added, pointing at his normal-sized glass.
I could have easily had another. I had my backpack on and I was sweating far more than I should have had any right to. Unfortunately, the guide book (rough guide to Italy) that a chum at work had lent me was in there, and I think I owe him a new copy due to 'water damage'.
It's worth noting that when you get lost in Venice on a hot day and make it back to the return spot with a half-hour to spare (after taking far too many wrong turns), you don't really mind spending three euros on a bottle of cola.
The evening found us eating in a restaurant and looking at the guide book to see where we should stay next. We'd only booked two nights at the hotel.
Day three
We drove towards Gardaland, our next destination. The area is around the Lago Del Garda, a large lake - and we wanted to hit the theme parks there. It's close to Verona, so we started hunting out prices of local places. After a few quotes, we hit the googlephone and laptop to book online, and saved ourselves a damned fortune!
We got to our hotel and checked in, and then headed to one complex of a theme park - Canevaworld/cineworld or something like that - for the afternoon. Cab had bought two hats in Venice. He got a third for free for buying two drinks.
They had a 'Rambo' show in live action, which was fairly entertaining. A U-boat simulation ended up in several people without the optional ponchos getting soaked. A 'magma2' ride ended up with me getting wet through (sort of a truck ride through deliberately hostile terrain), which soaked the phrase book (the other one a chum at work had lent me).
It was a fairly reasonable place, but I'd spotted a Medieval Times outside, so I bought the meal for the night. As soon as the park closed, that place opened - had never been to one before (don't think there are any in the UK), and I'd seen one in a film before. I even bought the photo that was taken as we went in. I have to agree with Cab - the king and I were separated at birth. He got to stand next to the princess. The resemblance wasn't uncanny.
"Eat with your fingers and don't throw anything into the arena" we were told. That's when they provided us with heavy pewter plates.
There was some pretty good horsemanship on display, and our knight was doing fairly well for a while, but then he got knocked out of the tournament. Cab was certain that the dastardly black knight who came in later to bugger up all the tournament was our guy in a new costume, as were a four-pack of chaps from the colonies. We all cheered on the black knight with some gusto at this point.
He may have been defeated, but we cheered him on anyway, and Cab's intuition was correct when he was finally unmasked.
More to come.
Rapscallion
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