Without Maurizio’s help and assistance, I wouldn’t have been able to buy a cabin ticket this evening at a discounted price from his friend Claudio at Adriatic Mediterranean Lines, let alone find the port at 2300 hours to catch the boat to Vlora.

The port exit process was long and laborious with one very unsmiling police officer studying intently each and every Albanian passport that passed under his nose. Maurizio waited outside and drove me over to the docked boat as soon as I was done. We said our goodbyes and promised to keep in touch. Just one more example of a big-hearted person who has offered assistance and support.

I’m still in Brindisi. All ifs ands or buts went out of the window last night when I started chatting to Dave from Colorado. Although I was packed and ready to catch the boat to Albania, I now realize that some conversations are just too important to leave in mid-flow.

Dave traveled to Italy with his mom Linda and is on his way to Greece for three months. Yesterday he said goodbye to his mom in Salerno. After searching for just the right time and place, Dave let Linda’s ashes rest around a rock overlooking the sea and the island of Capri, a place she had been to previously and loved.

I feel honored to have been a part of Dave’s emotional day, and hope that in some small way my presence helped. I know that spending time with this wonderful human being has definitely made me take a step back and look at what I’m doing and where I’m going. And it feels good. Great, in fact.

We raised our glasses of meta and toasted the woman who brought Dave into this world 36 years ago.

To Linda and her rock.

Albania awaits me and Greece awaits Dave. I wish him and Linda well, for I know she will definitely be along for the ride. From what I know of her, there’s no way she’ll let her son have all the fun without her.

Without my arm being twisted behind my back too hard, I was talked into staying in Brindisi for another night.

I got a brief taste of the Apulia region of Italy yesterday during my few hours in Lecce and I’m hooked. The town, which was founded in 1211 BC, reminds me of Sevilla, Spain, the place that has so far reached the top of my list of favorites. A much quieter version, Lecce has all of the beautiful architecture and maze-like cobbled streets to get lost in, but without the hustle, bustle and honking horns of rushing traffic. Many of the residents travel by bicycle along the spotless streets lined with graffiti-free Baroque-style buildings made from soft local stone.

Today I visited the white village of Ostuni by taking a 30 minute bus ride from right outside of the hostel. You can also catch a train but Brindisi Station is about a 20 minute walk from the hostel and since I didn’t get much sleep last night, I chose to be lazy. It’s now only 1230 and I’m heading back already. Ostuni is a pretty little place but to me a white-washed building is a white-washed building is a white-washed building and the sofa at the hostel is much more appealing right now.

I leave for Albania tonight, for sure. No ifs, ands or buts.

I’ve found the place to come and ride my bicycle with my skirt flying (not that I ever wear a skirt) and my basket full of groceries.

From the historic buildings and monuments, to the school children on their day out, each wearing the obligatory colored baseball cap, to the wild poppies growing in the Roman Anfiteatro located in the center of town, with a mother cat still carrying milk to feed the kittens she’s left under the ancient ruins while she heads off in search of food.

This is Lecce and I’m here for just one day. These are my first impressions. I’ve been here for only one hour but wanted to post to the site before I leave for Albania. I’ll provide more information on this beauitiful place shortly. But it’s definitely somewhere I want to return to.

Stayed at Carpe Diem Hostel last night and took a 30-minute train ride to get to Lecce. They run every hour. 

I leave on the overnight ferry to Vlora, Albania.

Still flying low on the tourist radar, Tropea is a perfect place to travel for quick few days, especially if you’re passing through London. Ryanair now have direct flights from Stansted, which, if you book far enough in advance cost pennies. I booked a one-way ticket four days ahead of departure and had to pay UK£30.

Ready? Yes, armed with clean laundry and my new San Francisco Hat Company hat.

Steady? Not entirely after the bout of dickie tummy I picked up whilst back in England (of all the places to get sick).

Go? Most definitely, especially after meeting a exceptionally obnoxious Italian twit this afternoon.

Enough nonsense. I’m getting back on track and tomorrow I set off for “G,” Gjirokaster in Albania. I’d originally planned to catch a boat out of Bari, Italy to Durres, Albania, but have now decided to set sail from Brindisi and head for Vlore. Depending upon boat schedules, I may stay over in Brindisi the night–perhaps give my dreams of Italy one final kick in the pants. 

Will find somewhere in Brindisi with internet access that allows me to upload photos to the site.

It’s been six weeks since I left the UK and since I’m currently back there again, due to sickness–actually, old-age in the family–it seems a good a time as any to update you on my travels.

Six countries down: Germany (Argenbühl-Eglofs), Liechtenstein (Balzers), Spain (Cullera), Portugal (Darque), Andorra (Encamp), and Italy (Frattammagiore). Only another 20 to go.

Continue reading this entry »

0615 at Ricadi Station, Capo Veticano. It’s throwing down with rain, not a blue bit of sky to be seen. The pitter-patter of rain falls on green and lush flora. There’s no traffic, no shouting. The only noise comes from a cockeral welcoming the new day and a bell every so often to announce the arrival of the next train. There is peace, there is quiet.

There are no staff at the station while I wait for my 0700 ride to come from the hotel. This is no door and no windows to the waiting room. Just an empty concrete square that reminds me of a bomb shelter some friends and I found when we were children. Happy memories.

0645 and another train arrives. Six people disembark and join me in the shelter.

I know already I will like this place.

Last night in Napoli, I didn’t mind if the train was delayed. The longer I waited there surrounded by people, the less time I’d be alone in Lamezia waiting for my connection.

When the train eventually showed up, I found my seat and got comfortable. And Ding Dong! in walked some young eye-candy to keep me company. A twenty-seven and beautiful military officer (minus the uniform, but with clothes–shame), even with his man-purse Emanuele was cute.

We spent three hours talking and each trying to learn the others language.

“You come stay with me for two weeks,” he joked, ”you will learn Italian and I will learn English.” Oh, and can we do that whilst lying beneath some crisp white sheets and drinking champagne? I’m totally there. Nice idea but not to be. Alas, the conversation ended, I disembarked at Lamezia and he continued to his home in Sicily.

I fell asleep in the waiting room listening to the rain hitting the tracks. Even at 0330 I could hear birdsong. I awoke an hour later to the smell of coffee. Two cappuccinos and 30 minutes later I was wide awake and on my way to Tropea, accompanied by the rain and the hope that perhaps my next encounter will be with someone with a few more wrinkles than me.

I haven’t even reached Tropea yet and have just received an e-mail from La Bussola Hotel and Restaurant to say they’ll meet me at Ricardo Station (two stops, and 7 km, after Tropea) at 7 tomorrow morning. Can’t confirm right now that the place is all it says it is, but from their website and the attention I’ve received already, at 25,00 Euro per night for bed and breakfast, I think I’ll be fine.Flights now go direct from Stanstead, UK, to Lamezia, which is 60 km from Tropea.