As if we haven’t had enough of pizza, William had requested that we return to Pisa for pizza (almost works).  We were in Pisa a couple of years ago, but Will was too young to climb the tower and he really wanted to go back, so one of the wonderful things about this trip is that back we could go.  Camping Mary, our magnetic virgin from Semana Santa who stuck to the front of our van and sought out campsites from Seville to Croatia, (where the storms finally beat her) may have left us, but she was still looking out for us in Pisa where we camped 500m from the tower.

We parked up then headed down to the complex.  Gone were the ITT (international tourist tat) stalls from two years ago, and in their place was an impressive new visitor’s centre where we collected our tickets.  We had expected the climb to be a precarious expedition (like Split Bell Tower) but it was simply a tight winding set of enclosed, well-worn white stone steps.

Our Traveling Willbury, who at the beginning of the trip tiptoed up stairs, took it all in his stride, hurrying us oldies along to get to the top.  It’s a super spot up there – though we are not sure why.  The view is OK, but not spectacular, the bells are lovely but not particularly special.  We decided it’s simply the wonder of the building itself – a dainty ornate bell tower that just shouldn’t still be standing. We returned to earth, snip snapped our photos and then snagged a table overlooking the tower for our pizza by Pisa.  Fabulous choice Will!

Taking a bit of a detour inland, we zoomed into Maranello for a pit stop at the Ferrari Museum…ok that is enough motoring references.  Testosterone on wheels isn’t really my thing and I was sorely tempted to simply not tell the boys about it and putter quietly by in our camper, but the overt excitement (and flexing of guns) in the van when I suggested the detour made me very pleased I had spoken up.  The museum is a bit in the middle of nowhere but you know you have arrived as the streets become full of the rasp of these (admittedly) impressive cars being taken for test drives.  The museum itself is a slick but surprisingly amenable operation.  With dozens of vehicles on display from both the race track and the road, from the glamorous to the gregarious, it was a wonderful view into otherwise unobtainable worlds of petrol and picnics, helmets and head scarves.   The boys were in their element and after we went around the cars for a third time, I decided an espresso was the order of the day before we returned to our van (who we had had left sulking in a back street car park).

It was back to the coast after this petrol-fuelled diversion.  Long on our wish list (though little known about), we headed to Cinque Terre.  Situated in the north west of Italy, this bonkers little piece of the Italian Riviera is utterly captivating!  Stretching 12km along rugged cliffs (not unlike the Amalfi), are five small villages of brightly painted, sea weathered houses clinging precariously to the rocks into which they are built.  Surrounded by steeply terraced vineyards, these picturesque jumbles of traditional Italian fishing life (with a splash of still bearable tourism) are largely vehicle free, and are linked by a stone pathway that tracks along the cliffs.  We were able to walk between three of the villages, Monterosso, Vernazza and Corniglia (unfortunately the track was closed further on due to land slides), and despite the many stone steps that pushed little legs to the limit, we all thoroughly enjoyed the trail, the picnic lunch in Vernazza and the aperitifs in Cornigllia before catching a train back to Levanto where we were staying.

An ex colleague of Deane’s, Gary and his wife Pam, happened to be in the area on holiday so we joined them for a very enjoyable dinner and drinks in Monterosso.  Will and Andreas disappeared into a game on a tablet (which we read as getting on well) while we all enjoyed a chat over wine and dinner (Gary ordering a somewhat odd pizza with a perm).  One too many lemoncellos saw Deane get lost on the beach whilst off for a Dee’s Wee which gave us a giggle.  All in all, an utterly enjoyable few days in Cinque Terre!

Heading north, we took the coast road through the super swanky and super gorgeous towns of Rapallo and Portofino.  It was a stunning area and we had a surprisingly good picnic spot – high on the cliffs above Camogli, overlooking the sea.  Certainly beats the lunch stop on the way to Marenello, where we parked in a roadworks layby opposite the entrance to a refuse tip (yes really).  But we weren’t stopping on the coast again…we had some serious wine to contend with.

We had decided to celebrate our month in Italy with a slap up meal and some good wine.  We headed into the region that provides Barolo, Barbera and Asti (the cheap wine of my early youth…), and is the home of ‘slow food’.  Staying in a small village called Vergne, we attempted kite throwing again, with as much success as previously, before walking from our campsite, through the square and into one of the region’s best restaurants….(it was planned that way due to superior navigational skills of course….sort of).  This was to be Will’s first ever four course meal (including stuffed zucchini flowers which really pushed the nine year old palette) and we enjoyed some superb Asti to kick off the meal (who knew it didn’t have to be sweet as sugar water), some Barolo to accompany the main, and a super dessert wine (name escapes me), of which I polished off both mine and half of Deane’s as he was elsewhere (any guesses where?).  A super dinner, a super night for a super country……

A slow start ensued.  After a bit of school work, we got our bikes off the back and headed off for a ride – taking the high road to La Morra.  Riding through the Barolo vineyards in the late summer sun, with the ripe grapes hanging low on the vines is just an incredibly happy thing to do.   It is such a beautiful region, drenched in sunshine, with ancient stone villages sitting comfortably on the hillsides.  We rode up to the village, watched some teenagers prepare for a rave (village style), ate an ice cream looking at the view, peeked in the churches (obligitaire) and then rode back through the vineyards to the van.  Not a bad way to deal with a hang over!

And so…sadly it was our last day in Italy.  We had agreed to put Venice on the ‘to do’ list, deciding that it was really a grown up place where more romance would be had if just two were to visit.  We headed toward France, taking the road through the Col de Tende.  It was to be a smashing road (literally)….winding its way up the hill (our most hairpins yet) before hitting the tunnel which is the 3.2km long (a mere tiddler compared with our longest at 15.5km) and a really old, one way, slightly scary hole in the hill.  Winding our way back down the hill through a stunning gorge, we passed through some sweet alpine towns, before unknowingly entering a motorhome jousting contest on a particularly narrow stretch – when a mad campervan roared toward us and it was either tussle with him or drive into the rock face.  We lost a wing mirror.  So did they.

All good things must come to an end, and somewhat reluctantly we crossed the border into France.  We had an absolutely incredible month in this beautiful country and left a little bit of our hearts behind.  Grazie e arrivederci –  amiamo l’Italia.