We awake to quite unbelievable heat and some
degree of road noise similar to sleeping on the hard shoulder of the M6. This
is offset by a swift coffee and a 3 minute walk to the beach for a morning
swim. This is how to start ones day.. From the beach we have the distant view
of Portofino and the Italian Rivera. Only here, at this time in the morning it
is quiet. Another free shower and a brief altercation with a very strange bloke
cleaning the beach and we return to the Van for what is definitely the most
awful breakfast ever. Hard Italian bread and jam. (why can’t they make decent
bread? Isn’t this one of the gastronomic centres of the planet?). I make a
mental note to bring up the overly stringent budget at the most opportune
moment.
Lazy day and more swimming makes everything
better. We wander round town for a bit and notice the continuing phenomenon
that is the presence of those oh so stylish Italians wearing hugely
inappropriately sloganned t-shirts. Do they know what it means? Does that old
dude over there with his ancient bicycle and wrinkly knees really think that
his paunch is best displayed in a t-shirt that says “sex god”? Who knows… I
decide to get stylish too and smash up the budget and buy new shoes, much to
Jon’s bread and jam irritation (I’m sure he’s smiling on the inside..?). A
romantic evening walk to the beach is somewhat interrupted by police cars with
blaring incomprehensible loudspeakers, sirens and the sudden erection of road
closed signs. All becomes clear as about forty lycra clad Italian cyclists all
come zooming past, have we have stumbled into a local giro d’Italia? The
peculiar thing is is that none of them seem to have the urge to win, half of
them are on the phone and the other half look like they’re chatting to each
other to arrange a quick post-race espresso. Eventually we do make it to the
beach and it’s beautiful: quiet, twinkly and deserted. Shall be sorry to leave,
but excited about Pisa tomorrow.
