Need More Dubrovnik ...

Two days in Dooby-doo are simply not enough, so I have added another 2 nights and will not be checking out until Monday which will give me the opportunity to venture into the hills that surround this glorious city.

The old town is particularly special and is undoubtedly what makes Dubrovnik a major tourist attraction although it doesn't feel packed but for the first time on my trip I am hearing multiple languages and accents spoken, many of them beyond European. The attached pictures do not do this spectacular, walled town, justice as its scale is difficult to capture. Full of cafe's, positioned perfectly to people watch, restaurants of varying standards from snacks to silver service, vibrant bars and clubs. In the evening, the old town really comes to life as the restaurants

eagerly compete for dinners with many offering live music while you scoff. I my case, it was a very talented young, Spanish looking guitarist who passionately delivered a full range of Mediterranean classics to please all nationalities.

There is no question that Dubrovnik is a tourist attraction but does quite yet have that spoilt feel and look that usually accompanies tourist 'hot-spots' but who knows in 10-20 years. Can't help noticing a little 'mincing' here and there with gentlemen who prefer to dance at the other end of the ballroom also finding their own attractions in the city.

After dinner I found the Troubadour, a jazz bar, that reminded me of many a

good night in the Troubadour in London (Stevie Maynard, there's only one Stevie Maynard) although Dubrov's version was a little commercial, with jazzed up 'Fly Me To The Moon's' mixed in with a 'Quanta La Mera' here and there, but fun nonetheless if the number of gin'n'tonics I consumed are a gauge (bit of a sore head this morning, it must be said).

Spent the whole afternoon lazing on the beach today, not that I need to be any blacker than I am already, but it definitely cured my gin-soaked head. The weather here has been perfect since I arrived, sunny with the odd, welcomed cloud and light, cooling breeze; 26 or so degreesC and expected to be so for the weather forecasting foreseeable future.

It's now approaching 10pm here and I'm hungry, so I shall sign off ... Happy Friday all x

A Quick Step Back ...

The title to this blog sounds like a dance move but I just want to update the final leg of my Italian adventure.

After a delayed start from Catanzaro due to some confusion over the necessary documents required for Croatian entry (didn't need a Green Card after all), I eventually left with some 400 kilometres to go to reach Bari. Not much to mention really as I had the bit between my teeth until I decided to take a small detour to Alberobello.Thank you so much, Birgit and Harry Mueller from Germany, whom I'd met in Sicily and strongly recommended that I visit this place as it was on the way to Bari.  So, as I had made good time and the ferry didn't leave until 10pm, I swerved through the Puglian countryside for this town on the hill and so glad I did. Absolutely stunning! Magnificent buildings, beautiful piazza's with manicured trees and welcoming coffee shops, no wonder it's a designated world heritage site by UNESCO. What makes it so special is the area in which it sits, feels very Cotswold, England: miles of pristine dry stone walls that enclose orchards of predominantly lemon trees and olive trees, or line Roman straight driveways to splendid villas, basilico's and in one case, what looked like a monastery.

It's beauty is that everything is built using a light coloured limestone that is consistent throughout; charmingly pleasing to the eye. Add to this the 'trulli', a unique feature of the region; again stone buildings with conical roofs that are both dwellings or store houses; they are everywhere and really create the character of the place.
As I left Alberobello and its appealing surroundings, I kept fighting this 2 day old urge to get to Croatia, thinking that I should spend at least a night in this 'Capitale di Trulli', but before I knew it I was in Bari. The one thing I did realise is that Pulgia's countryside is somewhere I would happily live.

Bari was a pleasant surprise as I've often found, as mentioned before, that port towns can be a bit dour, yet this was everything but; huge, authoritative buildings, some with a regal feel others more colonial; a very impressive, boulevard rich, bustling city.

I arrive an hour before boarding starts for the Jadrolinija Ferry and literally, as I pull up under a massive marque where the ticket offices are situated, the biggest rainstorm erupts out of nowhere. People dashing for cover as if sirens were warning of incoming enemy planes and the incredible noise was that of a Sex Pistols concert, marbled sized raindrops (thankfully not spit) mean't shouting to be heard as I bought my ticket. It's only rain but still spell-binding in this magnitude.

At this point I get a tap on the shoulder from one half of an Austrian bike touring duet, Nic and Ilse, whom I end up joining for a jolly supper on the boat. They were not surprised by the rain as for the last 3 days of their riding they had been in constant down-pours. Even though they reliably informed me that the weather is also bad across the Adriatic, I assured them that the sun follows me wherever I go and guess what, it's pissing d...... no it's not. The ferry docked in a sunshine soaked Dubrovnik at 7am this morning and 5 hours later it's still blazing. Aye thang yaw!

I'm so glad I arranged two weeks of bike insurance cover for Croatia as I'm going to use all the time. I know I've only been here for a morning but already I love it. Love it, love it, love it! I have booked a two night stay in this ancient town and am looking forward to exploring it fully before moving on up the coast to find a campsite base.

A quick segue ... noticing a Croatian zoo of animals following me on the bike, I realised I should take advantage of the very cheap laundry services at the hotel, so presented them with a bag full of stuff including my most comfortable jeans that may not make it through a wash. Nine slashes and holes in total with areas worn to rice-paper thinness but then they have done over 3,000 miles. I hope they make it, they are my 'originals' as old style Hell's Angels would call them.

Oh, as I wasn't sure whether Croatian was the right terminology, I checked and it is, along with Croat but I prefer Croatian. "A Croat" sounds like something you should see a doctor about.

Right, I'm off to old town Duby ... ta ta for now ... zbogom (no that's not a spell-check, it's good-bye in Croatian but can't help thinking that I'm saying "up yer bum")

Dubrovnik

Gooooooood morning Dubrovnik ... Nice, very very nice. I have been here 10 minutes, taking coffee in the harbour; first impressions ... Outstanding! I'm going to like it here ...


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Up The Anchor

On ferry, about to leave Bari for Dubrovnik. Will update blog tomorrow ... Puglia is glorious, more to come ...

"Now clean the decks, Master Bates",
"Aye, aye, cap'n"


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THANK YOU

Please forgive me for not saying this sooner ...

Thank you all, so much for your comments, texts, emails, calls, Facebook messages, Tweets and funnies. As much as I hated Internet social networking, i have to admit that linking my blog to FB and Twitter have made keeping in touch a relatively easy process and I also have to praise the iPhone which has been iconic in its role.

Thank you for taking the time to respond, it keeps me pedaling and inspires me to keep writing.

Chris x

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Back to Mainland

Lot of time in the saddle today, left Cefalu, mid-Sicily at 9, kept going until 6.30pm when I stopped and check-in to a hotel in Catanzaro. An alive, old town in the hills just in from the coast on the instep of Italy, as it were. I seem to be on a mission and now that I've worked it out, I've been in glorious Italy for near 3 weeks and for good reason, I love it here. But as I said yesterday, it's time to move on and even though I'm still some 400 kms from Bari, my gateway to Croatia, I'm tempted to just get there and catch the night ferry. I'll see how the ride takes me tomorrow but the desire for a new culture is growing.

385 kms today; Cefalu to Messina, ferry to Villa San Giovanni, then Palmi, cross country to Taurianova and was headed to Lorci but the road was chiuso'd. Therefore diverted into proper rural mountain roads where I stopped at the next village at a cafe with it's signature gaggle of males debating, which is my want. Whenever I stop, I always look for the crowded cafe arena as the same thing happens every time. I pull up right outside the cafe, the debate stops and a every eye stares with an inquiring look as I de-robe from my bike wardrobe; then as I enter to order my usual cappuccino, I warmly announce, "Buon giorno tutti" with a huge smile and every time the conversation just flows from there. It's just great and today was no exception, once all know that I've travelled from the UK on my bike, the maps are out and each and every participant has his best route and places to visit. It's always a joyous free-for-all and all at 110 decibels. Fantastic! The privilege of today's coffee stop was the admission by Alfredo, the very proud owner of this buzzing watering-hole, that I'm the first 'Englese' to enter his bar, not a surprise really, I am truly in the middle of nowhere. It's was a really great stop, the longest yet and the best part was watching and trying to understand the workings of that Italian card game (that begins with 'B' but can't remember it), played with that pictured deck and at fighting volume. If you didn't know that cards were being played, you'd have thought it was a punch up. Bloody marvellous!

I think you get the idea about my stop-offs, so riding on to the under metatarsal coast and after miles of empty sandy beaches and seaside villages , Catanzaro is my home for the night. Sipping Amaretto in a lively bar as I write, surrounded by enthusing locals, in the warm night air.

I wonder if my next blog will emanate from Dubrovnik?

Buona notte tutti x


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Corleone

Up early for 'Godfather' day, first stop, Palermo. Albeit a big excursion, I decide on jeans and T-shirt rather than armour, only to find myself in rain after 30 kms. Typical. Hey, it's only water and you dry quickly once it stops and stop it did as I entered Palermo via the fish-stall lined, coast road. Palermo hustles and bustles, people and traffic to the brim, so much so that the air-cooled R1200GS' temperature gauge reached max. At this point, I fore-went the intended cafe and reset the GPS to Corleone that took me via still wet, cobbled and stone lanes that had the rear wheel spinning with the slightest touch on the throttle; BMW's anti-skid technology (ASC) kicked-in on every incline, which was quite reassuring on the back-street ice rinks.

Ten clicks out of Palermo and the road is drying fast; wasn't long before I was back to scything through the inner hills, squeezing down village lanes, steadily climbing all the time with the sun turning my forearms ever blacker and the weather my friend.


Enter Corleone. Bigger than I expected and no men in shinny suits and shades but then I didn't expect that either. A place of about 12,000 people, there are churches everywhere whose confessional boxes must have been pretty busy at one time.


Although this town is known to the world for it's Mafia links and for good reason as many renowned 'Bosses' where born here. During the 1980's and 90's, it is said that the Corleonesi ruled with a ruthless hand but today the the locals have a lot to say. This artwork (pic) is in the entrance to one side-street gallery and there is a street here called "11 Aprile" (Liberation Day), the day, in 2006, that Bernardo Provenzano, "Boss of Bosses", who had been in hiding for more than 40 years, was arrested.
I like this place, it feels like proper Italy to me; real, not 'turistico', with a genuineness that comes with pride from the few that I have met. Enjoying lunch at the moment in 'Al Capriccio', black and white photos of family and old Corleone proudly adorn its walls, it is buono and I shall take my time before strolling the streets some more ...


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Lazy Day

After a very jolly impromptu supper with Harry & Birgit who kindly insist I visit them in Frankfurt if I'm passing through Germany, I realised it was Sunday when I awoke this morning; truly, it's been 3 weeks on the road and the days, no matter what their name, are blending into one another but it's the Sundays in Italy that I need to remember as nearly everything closes. Anyway, the conclusion being that it shall also be a day of rest for me. Caught rays, read, swam, listening to music, dozed, not necessarily in that order but you get the drift.

I really like Sicily but I am starting to get that nomadic itchiness so I will sooth it with a sight-seeing ride tomorrow. First to Palermo, then up into the hills to Corleone; yes, that's right, the place made famous in The Godfather.

After this, I shall return to the campsite for one more night as the excursion to pay homage to Al Pacino is about a 300 kilometres round trip; besides I may have to make the campsite owner "an offer he can't refuse".
Tuesday, I will return to the mainland and make my way (slowly) to a port on the other side of Italy. I'm thinking Croatia, but I will let you know.

Sorry to say your weekend's over, but I hope it was a good one. Good night x

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Campsite-tastic

So yesterday morning after the plastic cheese on the hotel terrace (outstanding view mind), I panniered up and headed to the Northern coast in search of a base.


The route was cross country, skirting the base of Mount Etna and the rolling hills of Sicilly; there are no flat bits or straight bits here which is perfect if on two wheels. What's even better are the roads; the best I've experienced in Italy by far and even better, I was totally alone in the hills, only passing one car in over an hour of riding. Perfect!

I haven't mentioned the R1200GS and should. My silence on her behalf reflects the constant, unquestionable delivery she executes in all circumstances. Never missing a beat, this is the perfect bike for what I'm doing. What does eternally amaze me is how she handles the weight. At standstill, it would take the strength of a bull to get her back to vertical if she leans more than 15 degrees (fully loaded, must be approaching 280 Kgs) and yet on tight, winding roads she can literally flip from side to side with the ease of a ballroom dancer. Oh and the brakes, with all that weight to stop, are confidently tremendous, as I found out on a couple of occasions. Sure there's been a few times when I would have liked my sportsbike back, nonetheless, BMW congratulations, she's a beauty.
Did have my first scare though, 90 degree right-hander on the coast road hand me completely out of the saddle; hit something on the road, probably diesel given the number of coaches, front wheel lost grip first, then the rear, then both re-gripped out of line. Bikers will know what I'm talking about; a moment when you get to find out where your arsehole is very quickly. Don't worry Mum, I'm fine and doing well if that's the only incident in over 4,000 kilometres.




As the picture suggests, I'm pitched and happy ... Hurrah! 50 metres to the beach and beach-side bar, large pool and all the necessary facilities for 8 Euros a day. Within an hour, I'm offered a glass of wine by a fellow camper, who asked me if I find it boring to travel on my own? I respond, "would you have walked over and offered me wine if I was sitting here with 3 people?" He understands, and now he and his wife are my new best friends.

The site is on the edge of Cefalu, about half way across the top face of the triangle and about 75 kms from Palermo.
I popped into medieval Cefalu this morning and could have spent all day watching people; it's a pretty, bustling place, winding, narrow streets, and delightful restaurants overlooking a rocky coast, all under the everpresent gaze of a Norman-Arab-Byzantine cathedral. Behind are the Madonie Mountains supporting an ancient Sicanian-Greek temple. I shall go there later, the view from the summit must be inspiring. I shall stay in Sicilly a few days ... I knew I would.

27 degreesC with intermittent sunshine, I'm off for a dip.

Enjoy your weekend people x

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Location:Cefalu, Sicilia

Sicilia

Mi dispiace for not writing yesterday but wasn't the best of days although ended well as you will find out.

So, fond farewells from Villa Isobella and I'm on my way, hugging the coast to Villa San Giovani for the ferry to Messina, Sicilly. The reason for the repeat pic of breakfast is the tomatoes; someone, can't remember who, said the toms in Southern Italy are excellent ... Answer: Correct! Deliciously fruity and rich with a bite like an apple, in fact you could eat them just like an apple, they are that good, but I digress. Seated position, arms out stretched, R1200GS winding smoothly through village after village, acknowledging the also seated but stationary elderly as they clock all passers by with that look that demands a toll, then I notice


a Rio de Janeiro stylie, Cristo Rendentor (Portuguese, Christ the Redemer), bearing down on me from a great height, arms out-stretched to the side (this is beginning to sound like an aerobics class). Not surprising given the deep Catholic belief in the south, constantly evident in the multiple, roadside shrines; so I took comfort from the on-high gaze possibly wondering if my childhood Catholic schooling had a purpose, only to enter a monster rain storm two bends later. Thanks mate! Thank God, no pun intended, I was bike-geared up as these raindrops were the size of marbles that quickly created fast flowing streams of water across my steep path. All locals, especially those on two wheels, have taken cover by now, but I charged on relentless with that true British 'BBQ with an umbrella' mentality; the show must go on. Stiff upper lip. Pip-pip. Carry On!
Bollocks, I'm soaked!
A couple of coffee stops later (leaving arse-shaped damp patches on various chairs and benches) and I'm easily on the ferry chatting away with a Ducati-riding German on his way to Palermo.
Messina; all a bit tired and dirty but major port cities often are and the local driving style is to completely ignore red lights. Disgraceful behaviour, Rules is Rules, so I ignored them too! Heading down the south coast, I eat up another 100 kms and am now getting tired and emotional not to mention still damp, so I decide to check into a hotel then I'll do a proper campsite recky domani.

"110 Euros" said the receptionist and I regrettably agreed but my stay totally confirmed that I really don't have to spend much money to have a fantastic time. Views are no better, too many people and somewhat constraining unlike the freedom of a campsite. Strange but true.
Dinner was buffet style and very school dinnerish for a 4 Star hotel (must say at this point that the food generally in Italy is a bit hit and miss) but the tomatoes were good and a chance meeting with a fun couple from Birmingham made it all the more jolly. However, the piano bar, viz a bloke with a fancy machine and enough echo on his mic to bounce off every wall in the hotel, was my own, personal X-Factor evening. The short stories are A: sweetest French lady gets on the mic, starts singing "Feelings", "whoa-oa-oa", "Feelings" with a voice that can only be described as fingernails scraping down a blackboard and all this in the affectionate direction of her husband who now has his laptop open pretending to be the hotel IT Services Manager and B: a Spaniard, I think, because it looked like his moustache was a pair of black, fornicating hamsters, started a rendition of "That's Amore" in his best Dean Martin voice (not!) just as his wife decide to pick up her mobile and make a call. She left the lounge, never to be seen again. Who said romance was dead!

While writing this, an elegant German fellow-camper has just presented me with a glass of red wine. Excellent! Campsite-tastic!

Where was I, oh yes, karaoke ... well, a couple more of these holiday auditions and I was in bits, I literally had tears pouring down my face, I hope it wasn't obvious. Bloody funny!

Breakfast; buffet, solid scrambled egg, stale bread and plastic cheese, but the tomatoes were good, did I mention about the tomatoes down here! Checked-out and goodbye. Another great lesson learnt.

I too will check-out at this point and write today's news in a the next blog.

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