Roggio to Frejus

Roggio - Firenze 18/08
Before leaving the house in Roggio we had debated what to do afterwards. The options were a) staying at the house for another week; b) moving to a campsite further up the valley, which we had visited, or c) go to Florence; mainly because it had the best and fastest train link to Rome. Staying in the house was tempting but lacking outside space we began to feel sort of trapped and longed to be outdoors again. The campsite up the road was the chosen option until we realised that we wanted a change of scenery altogether and we finally decided on Florence.
After saying our good-byes to Andrea, his family and our little house in Roggio, we set off once again in a fully packed Vera (which we had mostly done the day before). This was the first time we got the old lady over 50mph since we arrived 3 weeks earlier and it felt good to be on the road again.
The campsite in Florence, Michelangelo, sits on a hill just underneath the Piazzale with the same name, and overlooks the town. The site's name isn't advertised on the outside so we drove past at first and were pointed to by a backpacker who had seen us drive past tentatively earlier.
The only pitch available in the shade is an odd triangular shape with a serious slope. Vera has to stay in first gear as the handbrake can't cope alone. We're in an area mainly occupied by tents: Spanish, French, Dutch and British number plates all round. We're bit rusty on the old WART routine but we're glad that we can at last sit outside again, albeit having to hold on to our chairs as any movement sends us skidding further down the incline.
There is a bar serving snacks and pizza, internet points and even a pinball machine tucked away in the corner. From the terrace a fantastic view of the skyline and beer on tap. The pizzas were quite awful though. The pinball machine was a bit too easy; at least that's what Bre said after I manage to get to number three on the highscore list.

Firenze 19/08
The next day we venture into Florence for a bit of sightseeing. From the Piazzale Michelangelo a long set of steps leads down to the banks of the river Arno, and once over the bridge we find ourselves right in the middle of the old town.
We decided to wait just before closing time to see the famous duomo because we'd seen the queues easily stretching two hours worth of waiting in the heat, and stroll around aimlessly, stopping to have coffees every now and then. At about half past five, when we join the diminished queue, it slowly dawns on us that we misread the guide book: the duomo (cathedral) closed at half past four; what is still open is access to the domo (dome) and involves 640-odd steps up through a maze of evermore claustrophobic staircases. About midway we come out onto a gallery circumventing the dome just below its impressive fresco, The Last Judgement. Halfway around there are more steps and the ceilings become so low that we have to stoop most of the time. Minutes are spent waiting for other visitors to come down and pass wherever possible, and at last we see the ladder that leads onto the final outdoor platform. The views over the city are stunning and we're having out photo taken by a friendly Irish woman. My legs are positively shaking after we spill out onto the pavement outside the cathedral. We decide to walk back to the site and pick up some food on the way. Together with the steps down and back up to the Piazzale Michelangelo we reckon we have negotiated well over a 1000 steps today.

Rome 20/08
Early start today as we're catching a fast train to Rome.
Everything seems to have heightened quality - the good, bad and ugly - and the graffiti lining the walls and houses as we approach the central station are exquisite and very elaborate. It is said the Romans don't stop what they are doing for anyone, least for the masses of tourists, and we feel the truth of that as we fight our way across rudely wide streets and ferocious traffic. The most striking thing about Rome is how close the ancient and modern are. You might round an office block just to stumble upon a few rows of temple columns rising from an old excavation whilst next to it a wide road without markings displays the usual automotive chaos. There is so much to see and precious little time so we decide on a quick, selective whistle stop tour-de-force.
First stop, the Pantheon. A vast, round dome, originally a temple to the gods, and now since the 7th century a church. Inside are about 1,000 people but still enough space to move around easily. Outside are scores of badly dressed legionnaires with plastic swords beckoning to tourists to have their photos taken with them. We refrain.
Next stop: Fontana di Trevi. It's massive and seems to grow out of the side of a palace. We quickly take some photos and skim a few coins. Some people are being moved on by the tourist police because they were foolish enough to sit down. Amateurs.
We cut out a lesser known attraction to go straight to the Vatican. Walking past the intimidating Castel Degli Angeli we're on the main parade leading to the Piazza San Pietro. The piazza is massive but somewhat smaller than I imagined after seeing it filled with hundreds of thousands of believers on the telly. We take a few quick shots (not at the pope - he seems to be out) and go into the little post office-cum-gift shop to buy some real pope stamps. Pictures and postcards still feature the old and new pope equally.
As we are ahead of schedule we jump into the metro and head to the collosseum, our last stop for the day. You come out of the tube station and there it is: just over the road. Amazing. We don't go in as there is a two hour wait and are simply happy to gaze at it from the outside. We have a 14 Euro two coffees and Fantas break - the most expensive yet - and head back on the Underground to the train station.
Back in Florence we round the day up with a meal in a restaurant close to the campsite and get 10% off.

Sasso Marconi 21/08 - 25/08
We had enough of all this youthful backpackery nonsense and drive up towards Bologna and a little place called Sasso Marconi; not called that because Marconi did one of his many first transmissions in the town, but simply because here he lies entombed.
The campsite is about 2 km out of town, in the middle of a forest, absolutely massive and almost completely empty. In fact, half of it cordoned off as it is now getting into low season. The proprietor had just taken over the place a few months ago but there had been no need to pity him over our first cappuccinos because as it transpires he offers a full programme of courses like Spinning, Yoga, Dancing, etc over autumn and winter.
The town itself feels very much like a suburb of Bologna, being only 20 minutes away on the train, so we decide to visit the capital of food a second time. We again read the guide book and visit the mentioned streets and alleyways but all we can find are a few butchers and some fruit&veg stalls. The only market we find is a massive affair just off Via dell'Indipendenza selling cheap junk. Again we are hungry at the wrong time and quite embarrassed to admit that we went into a McD - the only place serving food in the afternoon.
The remaining time in Sasso Marconi we spend washing our clothes and sitting by - or rather in - the shallow river that flows in the valley just 5 minutes walk from the site which is already full of sunbeds and umbrellas.

Salsamaggiore Terme 25/08 - 26/08
One day to go before we can claim our pitch in Levanto, Cinque Terre, and we thought of staying in Parma tonight. Described as a delightful site in the grounds of an old mansion it sounds fantastic but as we find out is closed down for good. The alternative is Salsamaggiore Terme, a spa town with hot springs, about 20km south of Parma. The satnav, as usual, leads us on the scenic route, ie tiny little one track roads, but we manage to find it in the end. The site mirrors the spa theme with an impressive 3 pools and a couple of Jacuzzis.
After some time in and by one of the pools a guy on a motorcycle had pitched up next to us. He is Dutch, in his sixties, very skinny and tanned and had just been through Italy and Croatia on his own. While setting up his tent he kept constantly talking to himself and later, as he squatted down to crawl in, let out a monstrous fart. When we composed ourselves again we went for some beers and take-away pizzas. A Swiss couple had just arrived in an immaculate classic Fiat delivery van - red with white bumpers - that looked like it came straight out of the factory. The guy came over puffing on a pipe to have a chat. He had the van since he bought it new in 1970 (same age as Vera). From him we heard for the first time about Camping decks on ferries where you can sleep in your van and don't need to book a cabin. Really nice bloke but after a while we got to these awkward pauses when people sigh 'Yeah' and 'So…'. He though seemed to content to puff away at his pipe and look at us both in turn with a benevolent twinkle. He finally said good night and they were off the next morning to Ancona and then via ferry to Greece.

Cinque Terre 26/08 - 02/09
We're off to our long pre-booked pitch in Levanto. The area is called the Cinque Terre - five fishing villages wedged between Levanto and Porto Venere just east of La Spezia in Liguria.
The site is basically in the middle of town; five minutes from the umbrella and sunbed covered beach. The sanitary facilities (sorry, but after so long on the road you become sort of obsessed with toilet blocks) are of the best we've seen; there are plenty of washing machines and, as we find out, free wireless by the restaurant. Regular cheap trains connect all towns and we buy a 3 day special ticket that includes fees into the park.
The five towns/villages, which we subsequently visit all, are an amazing sight both from the land and from the sea. Dozens to hundreds of different coloured houses tumble along folds and rocks towards calm bays in which pretty fishing boats are moored. There are many walking routes that crisscross the park and we walk the coastal path between Corniglia and Vernazza on our second day.
Levanto itself is a pleasant seaside resort with a good mix of locals and tourists. Plenty of places to have a drink and a few good restaurants. When we are able to order Tabouleh in a café one day we can hardly contain ourselves. There is a bookshop with more or less trashy selection of English books and we stuff our pockets. The only good thing is the discovery of Colin Bateman's Murphy novels. The rest we smuggle in between the Michelin guides in the restaurant, and the worst, The Abortionist's Daughter we leave on the train. Apologies to whoever picked that nonsense up (although, who am I kidding? I'm reading the last Harry Potter instalment at the mo…).
The other campeggiori are a heady mix of few Italians, Dutch and mainly Germans, but it's a long cry from Lake Garda and we manage to conduct most of our conversations in Pidgin Italian. A Dutch couple comes up one day that had seen Vera in Florence and had taken a photograph then - small world.
Although we really enjoy our time here we can't hide the fact that we're actually want nothing more than seeing everyone in France. So we take it easy, make the best of it and plan our route to Aups.
If you ever think about spending a week in Italy there is hardly a better place to visit than the Cinque Terre. A good base is Monterosso, or also Porto Venere.

Imperia 02/09 - 04/09
Our next stop (and last in Italy) is Imperia. We three point turn round as quickly as we can after seeing the first campsite (think League of Gentlemen meets an industrial estate in Slough - although that sounds almost too intriguing) but the second choice is nice , set in the botanic gardens of an old manor house.
We discover a musical instrument shop and I buy a small travel guitar. Bre comes up with the great idea of a skills exchange back at home. After listing what we would like to learn our enthusiasm dampens a bit when we realise what we can offer in return. Room, tea and biscuits?

Frejus, France 04/09 - 05/09
Today is the big day: we're leaving Italy for the first time in three and a half months. Italy is a fantastic country and we had a brilliant time here but every place starts to fade a little after more than 14 weeks of holiday. We're also very excited to be in Aups tomorrow. We've made a little film when we crossed the border to France: "And here we are, in our last tunnel in Italy!".
We make our first stop at a service station and feel like children in front of the tree on Christmas morning: sandwiches, baguettes, quiches and lots of room.
The campsite in Frejus is an end of season graveyard and hopelessly overpriced. After a meal of hearty French fare and a couple of games on the pinball machine we don't care much though. Tomorrow we'll be in Aups.