The Huskies hit Campobasso

We woke up to a slight headache the next morning in Lello’s central Rome apartment, possibly due to the already blazing summer sun but equally possibly due to the €1.50 wine I had siphoned into my canteen the previous evening. 
Once semi fresh and awake we trudged sleepily back into the city, this time with all our belongings strapped to us – it was bloody hot outside, not something I or the ghostly Brits of the group were accustomed to. 
We went to meet J McKay who was flying in from Spain that morning. We found her and went to inject ourselves with caffeine and sweet things – a welcome break for me as I was carrying my and Jessie’s small bags and was starting to gather a small circle of tourists mistaking me for the Trevie Fountain. 

    
We made our way around the corner back to Termini, bought tickets and made our way down the platform (second to platform 9 3/4 for it’s locatability) and boarded the train to Campobasso – Silvia’s home town. The three hour train journey flew by as we crossed from Italy’s central west coast through hills and forest toward the small town. 

  

By late afternoon we were walking through the quiet cobbled streets up to the Tolo household, where Silvia’s mother greeted us and started what would end up being four days of near constant feeding. We settled in to our quarters and basked on the lovely patio in Silvia backyard. 
The region is dry and mountainous, the surrounding villages cascade down from the steep hills, with the church usually the beacon at its peak. Tolo HQ was located in the centre of the old town of Campobasso, just a few minutes walk from the city’s castle. The streets are narrow, quiet and paved with slippery marble. 
Once the dust of our arrival had settled and the day had cooled we went out to the first of our small town Italy engagement. In the next village over there was an annual prosciutto festival being held at the church. By the time we got there (around 8pm) the place was buzzing out front with locals enjoying the cool evening, beer and the ham. Around the back the rest of the attendees were in Mass before they came to join in. As the evening rolled on we were treated to performances by the local mountain police brass band and a local rock band playing Italian bangers. 
We returned into town where we were taken to a local bar called Blow up, loosely themed around the 1960 Michelangelo Antonioni film of the same name. There we met some of Silvia’s pals for the first time over a beer before finding we were too tired to make any decent introductions. 

              
The next day was one that we had been told to anticipate, that we may never have eaten the way were about to before. The 15th of August in Italy is Ferragosto, or the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. This is a public holiday in Italy and is celebrated with a massive day of food. We had been told by some friends of Silvia that her mother has a reputation as an amazing cook and we were in the best hands to experience this feasting tradition. 
In the late morning we all crowded into the kitchen to watch Silvia’s mum prepare the pasta from scratch, which she was bemused and a little uncomfortable with. But it was a brilliant process to watch. 

   
    
   
From noon until nearly 9pm Alex, Jessie, Sonia, Gareth, Emma, Silvia and myself sat in the backyard with Silvias parents and two of their friends and were served course after course of the most exquisite homemade Italian cuisine – just like mama used to make. The first course was parmasana, pizza di patata, mozerella and sottocenere al tartufo – a soft cheese with truffles. 
Each course sent us into a state of amazement and joy, forgetting that it was just one of many. In fact none of us were really sure how long this went on, but with so much delicious food continuing to be offered during each course pacing ourselves proved difficult. 
The next course was the home made pasta with pesto made that morning with fresh basil from the garden – truely divine. Next was barbecued local sausage and steaks, followed by sorbet, coffee, cake and more cheese. 

              
The sounds quietly resonating from the area could be comparable to that of people in need of immediate appendectomies, only in this scenario our groans are of pure joy and discomfort as we all adjusted our belt buckles. 
As night fell we all gathered some beers and cups and trekked up the narrow marble streets to the Campobasso castle, from where we could see the sun set and hear the echos of celebration from all across the valley floor – with the occasional firework cropping up in the not quite optimum conditions. We were met by a handful of Silvia’s pals and we sat and drank beer to the castle and at a local pub called Hops Up while the sun set on our first full day in Campobasso. 

            
The next morning we took at car over to Civitacampomarano, a village 40km away where Silvia’s father has run the pharmacy since the mid 90s. It was a super tiny place, in which the daily routine of locals seemed to be to emerge from their houses and park themselves on a bench, chair or box garden and simply observe everyone that goes past for 40 years. We got charged with a quick espresso in the flat the Tolos own above the shop before taking the quiet streets. 
The town had found some recognition in its vibrant and lively street art scene, complete with some charming social commentary, featuring a notice board painted blue with the Facebook logo, a park bench with the Twitter logo and a whatsapp phone booth. 
The village had suffered some set backs in recent years as the area had been prone to earthquakes and had been built on high sandstone, so half of it was cordoned off and abandoned for safety reasons. We were shown around the castle by the local tour guide and witnessed the passing of a message to Silvia from her father via wandering locals. 
The days sun was getting increasingly hot as the morning wound on so we returned to the flat where mama had once again seemingly effortlessly prepared lunch for all of us. We ate and for an hour or so lay around the flat – some dozing, others reading and basking in the sun.  

    
    
    
    
    
 
After we were all sufficiently awake we got in the cars and drove over to the east coast to Termoli, where we had a walk around the seaside and got some ice cream yum yum. 

We drove back toward Campobasso, a trip during which we learned that google maps is not to be trusted when navigating through small hill top villages, you may find that the route google thinks best will lead you up impossibly steep and narrow roads which will require some of the most awkward 11 point turns to get out off. Eventually navigating to roads suitable for automobiles we stopped at a local restaurant for some delicious pizza – we ate so much, not that this is anything new. 

The next day was a relaxed one, with some people taking leisurely walks in the village while others were happy just chilling and preparing our belt buckles for what was set to be another fantastic evening of mammas home cooking. We went out to a couple of bars in the town before heading back for a big old pizza time. They were so delicious and just didn’t stop coming! Also the deep fried aubergine balls were heavenly. Gareth made Irish coffees for afters which were also fantastic. 

On Friday everyone packed their bags and said goodbye to Silvia’s parents (except Jessie and I, we were coming back) and got in the car and drove some three hours west to a town called Bari, from where the Huskies would fly the next day. We stopped in a town called Trani for a walk and a focaccia – £2.50 for a quarter of a focaccia bread with prosciutto and cheese. We made a beach stop on the way to Bari, spending the last sunny hours enjoying a popular, not so clean beach. 

We drove to small village just outside Bari where we were staying the night. We dropped our things and drove into Bari town, which was bustling with Friday night family fun. We ate pizza and explored the narrow streets, witnessing a huge argument between customers and staff of a restaurant regarding the quality of the food – it may have been the most Italian thing we had ever seen. 
Bari is a coastal town which clung to the edge of cliffs with the angry sea below. We admired the views in the darkness before getting in the cars again and heading back to bed. 

In the morning we got up, had a coffee and went to drop the team off at the airport. Always a sad time saying goodbye to the team, though it won’t be the last time just yet. The remainder of us, Jessie, Sylvia and two of her friends headed back to the coast to a much nicer beach stop where we went to swim in a delightful bay. For lunch we really treated ourselves to a seafood place on the beach which served the freshest seafood on offer – including whole octopuses fried and eaten in bread – we ate so much and the hot sun sent us into a state of fatigue for quite some time. We returned to the beach and had another swim before embarking on the three hour drive back to Tolo HQ in Campobasso. 

We spend the next three days relaxing in and around Campobasso while slowly trying to motivate ourselves to make a plan. One night we drink wine and went out to meet pals, others staying in and dozing. The food continued to be incredible and with less people around Jessie and I were starting to become apart of the family despite not being able to speak directly with Silvia’s parent. Jessie and I made our first pavlova for everyone, which was a complete success, except the cream wouldn’t beat. 



On our final night we went to a nearby village to see Silvia’s grandma where we ate a lot of pizza – which I wasn’t able to enjoy as much as I would have liked due to picking up tonsillitis 24 hours before – which was good timing considering I’m staying with a pharmacist. 

Jessie and I leave tomorrow to head to Naples. This has been such a priceless experience – being in a small Italian town with a brilliant family and friends just fitting into the in and outs of day to day life. Despite still having only seen a few of Italy’s major cities, I feel that I’ve experienced more than any number of cities, landmarks and restaurants could provide.   

Lons, Lyon & Rome

I spent the next two days at Yoel and Maia’s, who had gone away for a few days but were kind enough to leave me the key. I spent my time swimming, eating too much and being generally shirtless. After my cycling stint I really needed some recuperation time, as my legs were in a state. 
On Saturday I caught a blablacar from Lons Le Saunier to Lyon, where I was to spend the day before flying to Rome. I arrived in the late morning and made my way into the centre. The city centre is an impressive stack of old buildings cascading down hillsides towards two rivers which run closely together through the city. Overlooking the town is a giant cathedral and a radio tower. The cobbled streets below echo with a buzz and the river banks are alive with people enjoying the outdoors. 
There was a garden nearby where there was a picnic organised by some couchsurfers, so I went and checked it out. It was a glorious day, and it became necessary to hide from the sun at its height. 
I stayed for many hours, making my way around the group – the majority of who were Latin Americans resident in Lyon. I got adopted by and American and Peruvian guy who showed me around a little bit. 
They departed and I continued to roam to streets in search of their secrets. I did this all night, as I hadn’t found a place to stay – but this wasn’t a stress. I was a nice way to reflect on my last month in France. The night cooled and quietened down – and I found a bench on which to shut my eyes. 
After a few hours it was light again and I went to find something to eat before going to the botanical gardens to enjoy the sun and snooze a bit more before heading to the airport. 

                      
I flew without a hitch and was rambling the streets of Rome by 9.30pm, on my way to find Sonia, Sylvia, Alex, Gareth, Emma and Lello – The Huskies are at it again. I found them at a restaurant and we proceeded to walk around the hot streets for a few hours, enjoying some of the night life available on this sticky Sunday evening. We had a big walk home passed all the old favourites of classical antiquity before falling quickly to sleep in Lellos flat.  

   
   

Dijon & Cycling day 12 // The Limp to the Finish

I spent Wednesday with Gardelia in Dijon. We went into the city and she gave be the general look around, taking me through the town centre with its old buildings, cathedrals and squares. 

I had a nap in the afternoon and in the evening Gardelias friend Carmella, who is an au pair from Mexico, came over for dinner. We made Mexican food, giggled and watched a film. 

The next day I left Dijon, unsure of my destination. If I was to hear from anyone from Dole I would head there, because it is between Dijon and Lons. If I didn’t, then I’d just do the 100km back to Lons. The sun was out and even after a wrong turn, I was well on my way down the canal heading southeast. Until, my first puncture. Again, the back wheel, the rim of which had sustained damage which caused the tire to explode on the last cycle day. This exposed sharp edge (I think) is the reason my tire got a hole. I fixed it, ate some lunch and kept going.

I got to the sign which pointed to Dole, 20km in the other direction or 50km to Lons. I hadn’t any word from hosts so decided to crack on.  In the next hour my back wheel went two more times, both in places that could not have been related to the shape rim. I taped the tire in some places, as the tread was wearing thin. Maybe this would help. 

I managed to keep going until I was 21km from Lons, at which point the rear tire went for a forth time, and in my frustration I dropped the bike and jammed the front break, so I had to cut it. That was the end of my cycling. It was 7.30pm and Lons was only about an hour away on bike. So I did what any ridiculous person who just cycled 80km would do. I walked. 

Fortunately I had enough lights and my high viz vest that darkness wasn’t an issue, except for morale. I walked for 4 hours, pushing the bike. At some times I was in pitch black stretches of road, with plenty of shoulder room to stray way out of the path of cars, but it was definitely unsettling. 

I got back to Yoels at 11.30pm, overjoyed when the dark road finally resembled something that I recognised. My legs were so sore, way more so after 20km of walking than 1000km of cycling – which I guess is a testimony to just how great the bicycle is. 

Yoel and Maia are away but left a key with a neighbour, however it was too late to retrieve this so I slowly set up my tent and slipped into bed. 

Then I was finally able to acknowledge what I had just achieved. I’ve cycled just under 1000km in 12 days, which is double what I did in 8 days in 2015. I’ve experienced a taste of the landscape and hospitality of central France. Beautiful people, weather, food and vistas. All with the power of my two flimsy pins. Pretty pretty good. 

Cycling days 10-11 // Montbard & Dijon

I started pretty early after breakfast on Sunday and cycled 10km north to Tonnerre to catch what could be my only chance to buy food that day. I continued south east to Montbard. I had joined onto a canal again so the ride was relatively stress free, although I can feel my pacing continuing to slow – with my body is finding it’s limits and the bike needing a tune. 

I arrived in the early evening and went to a lovely camp site on the other side of town. Montbard is a small villiage with a fortified castle standing on the hill in the centre. I set up camp and tried to go for a swim in the pool, but the life guard seemed to indicate (in French) that anything other than a speedo was prohibited. So I had a swim in the shower instead. 

I went for a walk around the quiet town. It being the sabbath very little was open, but there were a few people out picnicking in the grass. I returned to camp and after eating my bread, cheese and canned ravioli (to which I have become rather fond) I fell quickly to sleep. 

   
    
    
    
    
    
    
   
I woke later than usual the next morning and packed up my traps. By midday I was on the road to Dijon, which is only 100km or so from my finish line. Today’s ride was hard, the canal sent me way to the west of Dijon, adding 40km to the ride, and once off the canal I was climbing for about 10km, with the bikes gears not on my side and the number is disconcerting noises coming from the bike ever increasing. 

Eventually, when cruising down a hill my rear tire exploded which I was half expecting. After a 20 min hold up I was back on the bike with 25km to go. The canal returned with 16km left and I slowly but surely limped into Dijon, eating some dinner by the cities “beach” and heading up to my host Gardelia’s house. She is an au pair from California who has been working in Dijon for nearly a year. I’ll be taking a break here tomorrow and trying to do some maintance work before finishing the last few days. 

   
    
 Approx total distance – 850km (11 days)

Cycling day 9 // Gy les Nonains to Poilly Sur Serein

Today was my longest but probably most relaxed day of cycling yet. With google talking to me in the ear from the start it was easy to just follow instructions and enjoy the scenery. My ride today took my from the relative flat to which I had been familiar to the rolling wine region near Chablis – one of the few wines I know by name. 

I woke up early in Bens house and had breakfast with him and the boys. Ben was most kind in preparing me food for the road as well. By 10.30 I was off and down the road heading east. The ride was just over 100km and took until just before 6pm. I had a couple of destinations marked, one was half the distance away, and the other doubled up and went the same distance again. In the end I got a response from a couch surfer from the further village called Poilly Sur Serein, some 10km south east of Chablis. 

The village has 200 permanent residence, two of which are Aude, her partner and their 16 month old daughter with another on the way. I was pretty tired by the time I got there so felt I wasn’t as good at the conversation as I usually am. But never less we had a lovely meal and played some board games in their lovely converted stone stable (still being converted). 

   
    
    
    
    
    
   
Approx total distance – 685km (9 days)

Cycling day 8 // Orleans – Gy-les-Nonains

I had breakfast with Gerard and Basel before packing up and getting on the road. Basel loaded me up with vegetables and home made Jam for me to take. Today was more complicated cycle, as i am taking two days to cycling east to the start of a new cycling path the Dijon – so navigation is not as breezy as the last week. Fortunately after a while of struggling I just put google maps in my ear and we were away. I didn’t take many photos of the journey because I felt like I wasn’t going to make the 85km cycle due to a slow start, but the terrain was very varied. 

Google maps took me some stupid ways, through grassy fields and forests, but in the end I got to the small village of Gy-les-Nonains. 

I sat in the square to have a rest a moment when a man and who boys came screaming down the street of bikes. It was my host Christopher and his sons who had been keeping an eye out for me. We went back to his house, which was a lovely old barn that a Chris had been converting into a house over the last years. 

Chris and I sat in the sun with some beers and I help prepare some dinner, while playing Mario Kart with the 9 and 11 year olds. 

Chris and I spent most of the evening outside talking with vino. I retired to the couch before midnight. 

Approx total distance – 585km (8 days)

   
   

Hospitality in Orleans

After a great rest I had breakfast with Jean-Baptist and bid him farewell. I had decided to stay another night, as I felt I had yet to take in enough of this lovely town. I spent the day cycling around, across the Loire to explore south Orleans – where the university is. I relaxed my the Loire and enjoyed the sunshine. Not much more to say about the day, nice and relaxed in the sunshine. 

   
    
    
   
I spent the evening with Davidou, a gardener and Eco warrior who’s passions lay in ecological and local farming and produce, having founded many organisations in the area including a coopperative supermarket venture. He had found his passion for agriculture during a year spent working on New Zealand farms. 

The next morning I intended to start my cycle back to Lons, but I woke to a message from Basel and Gerard, a couple who live in an adjoining town called Saran -to the north of Orleans, inviting me to join them for breakfast. I had been in touch with them in my early attempted to come to Orleans and as we had talked so much back and forward is seemed a shame to miss the opportunity to meet. 

On arriving it seemed unlikely that I would be leaving after breakfast. I had ten minutes with Gerard before he had to go to work. So I was drawn in. I spent the day with Basel, a Lebanese born Frenchman who had given up his life as a financial dude to follow his passion and open his own Falafel stand. I was naturally drawn to this. I spent the afternoon running errands with him to numerious culinary suppliers to pick up various bits and pieces. 

We returned home and had lunch with Gerard, who popped back on his break. Basel and I then spent the afternoon in the garden, preparing aubergines on a charcoal fire for babaganosh, collecting salad from the garden, eating fruit off the trees and enjoying the sunshine. 

I was also employed to go and do a property drop and pick up exchange for a friend of theirs who had recently split up with her boyfriend – talk about getting involved in local drama. 

Later in the evening Gerard’s sister and her husband came for dinner – which was delicious home made hummus with bread, cheese, fruit and home made cider. A beaut day, and despite the continued offers to stay longer, unfortunately tomorrow I must start my journey back east. 

   
    
    
 

Le Cycling Day 7 // Chatillon – Orleans

Today was long! The ride was just over 90km, and because I did maintanance on the chain yesterday I was going easy on it. I left Chatillon at around 10am and arrived in Orleans at 6.30. 

The sun beamed down all day, as I followed the Loire north west. I had to stop for some unrelated but similar maintenance along the way which took about half an hour – but in the end I fixed the problem. 

   
   
Orleans is the biggest town I’ve been in for quite a while, just a little bit bigger than dunedin, with a history stretching back as far as the Roman Empire and featuring characters such a Joan of Arch, who faught a battle defending the city at one point. 

My host Jean-Baptist gave be an evening tour of the old town, which is a very attractive, cobbled, car-less area of the city with architecture from many different eras up to 500 years old. It was a warm night at people were out and about – nice to feel a buzz in a town again. 

   
    
    
    
    
    
   
Then hit the hay pretty hard. I think I will stay another night so I can explore some more. 

Approx total distance – 485km (7 days)

Maintenance day

Yesterday I departed Chatillon and started to ride to Orleans. 

   
 About 20 minutes into my ride my chain snapped, not something I’ve fixed before – so it was to be a learning day. I walked around the we town of Briare to see if anywhere was open but alas mondays seem to be another Sunday. 

I walked the 6km back to Chatillon and went back to the house. Pierre saw me and we jumped straight in the car and went to the supermarket to get a chain and a link tool. It took me a few hours to figure it out but I think I fixed it. Tomorrow will tell. 

  
The girls went to a film in the evening so Pierre and I wandered the grounds and he showed me his vege garden. We had some food accompanied with some philosophical chats. The girls returned excited but tired. We all went to bed. 

Break day // Chatillon Sur Loire

I had fully intended on continuing my journey today, however I never really got the chance. The family I am staying with kept offering activities and invitations that meant that I was staying the day. It was the second day of the harvest festival, so the town was alive. 

I had breakfast with the family which was made up of Pierre, his partner Emilie and their two daughter – Anouk (7) and Adele (4). After breakfast Piere took me through is wide array of instruments, from guitars to pianos, acordians to jembe. I also received a school lesson from Adele. 

   
   
I was about to depart when the invitation of offered to join the family next door for lunch with Emilies mother. We went over to the massive chateau on the grounds on which last nights festivies were held. The family were the most well to do bunch in the last few hundred years, and the house was a reflection of this. It contained some amazing relics – the walls were covered in 19th century oil paintings of the lords of the family. 

Emilies mother had been the town doctor and her sister – who was also present – had recently returned from 30 years teaching French language and culture at a university in Tokyo. We sat outside and enjoyed a lovely Sunday roast before it was time for the parade. 

   
   
We stood on the first floor balcony as we watched all the floats go by, one from each of the surrounding villages led by the corresponding brass band. They went around a couple of times before we spilled into the streets. Adele and Anouk were running all over the place the other kids, throwing confetti at each other – I was a willing target.  

   
    
 

 Emilie and I went and had a drink before getting a wee tour around the village. It was evening by now and we were exhausted. We returned to the house for a lie down and had some dinner. 

Around 10pm the family and I walked up to the canal where it seemed the whole town had turned out to watch the finalé of the festival – a good old fashioned fireworks display. We returned slowly home and went to bed.