Yes, travelling again, first to Dover where we found a new pub appropriately called the Hoptimist. It had real ale direct from the barrel, a characterful landlord and host of very colourful characters. Great.
Next day we left our usual overnight motorhome parking spot
and caught the ferry to Calais, then a long plod across country to begin our
journey south to the French Alps. Devil of a job to find a suitable restaurant
but ended up as the only diners in a beautifully furnished Russian-Ukrainian
restaurant, where the landlady had lent on a neighbour to greet us and to take
our order in English! How kind. Food was good, but so much too much.
Toll roads almost all the way down. We made a couple of
mildly interesting overnight stops
before turning east at the intriguingly named city of Gap which we by-passed making our
way through the drama of the southern Alps, so beautiful, finally arriving at
the ferry to Sardinia from Genoa. I will not attempt to describe the many hours
spent trying to find the entry to that ferry. Suffice to say that after
crossing a glittering part of the Med we drove off the ship at Olbia, Sardinia.
We did not tarry there but shot north along the twisty, narrow roads to Palau,
a beautiful seaside city looking out towards Corsica. There I had my first swim in what may have
been a private beach and had my feet nibbled by sea bass, lots of them. Just
trying me for taste I’m told.
Then into the interior in the interesting city of Tempio Pausania
which was very different to the coastal town we had just left behind. There,
when we left the restaurant with pizza laden stomachs, it rained and rained.
For a while we cringed under the inadequate shelter of a balcony but decided,
sod it, we might as well enjoy it and squelged our way back to the van dripping
and laughing hysterically.
There were many other happenings as we spent a week and more
touring the island. However, one thing that will definitely stay in my mind is
the shock of exploring one of the many Nuraghes near to the lovely rural
village of Tuilla in the south. This one was enormous: a central round tower of
great height, surrounded by four somewhat smaller ones and encircled by the
remains of a village of round stone huts. All of this made of enormous boulders
that surely no team of men, however strong, could lift, and all of it dating
back to the 3rd century BC! Extraordinary and beautiful.
There was more, much more. We both loved Sardinia and the
Sardinians: the island is compact and characterful and has an independence
borne of history and geography. But we
needed to return to our own adopted country so we took the long ferry journey
to Barcelona arriving at that road raked-city at the ridiculous time of one in
the morning then facing a long drive to our village. Phew!
