We awoke, yet again this trip, to the soothing sound of waves gently breaking on the beach. What a lovely way to wake up. Better still the mist had cleared and a warm sunny day beckoned.
Punta Alice beach – Basil lurking far right
Today was a campsite day and so jobs had to be done. Sarah set about doing the laundry and I messed about on the computer. I was doing essential blog maintenance etc. etc. so it was clearly an even division of labour!
It’s laundry day
Having been away for more than 5 weeks now some personal grooming was required. My beard got a trim and the brand new hair clippers were unpacked and Sarah added to her seemingly endless list of skills by turning hairdresser. I think we will try a longer cut on top next time, but it’s very neat and perfect for this climate.
Sarah’s excellent haircut
As I said yesterday the campsite is very quiet, but there were a few new arrivals today. I would estimate that there are about 10 German vans on site, 2 Italians and we are the only ones flying the British flag.
When you are sitting around on a campsite new arrivals can be a source of great interest and sometimes amusement. A German couple arrived with a big trailer attached to their motorhome. As they manoeuvred first the trailer and then their motorhome onto a pitch opposite us an adjacent elderly Italian gentleman insisted on “assisting” them. Standing in the middle of their pitch and thus making the manoeuvres more difficult, he chatted away to them in Italian, while they kept saying “non capisco, non capisco” (I don’t understand). This did not put the Italian off and he stood his ground waving his arms like a traffic policeman. The small things that amuse when you have nothing better to do!
In the late afternoon we walked a mile or so into the nearest town to try to find a cash machine. As we walked along the sea front we once again noted the “old men” phenomena. This is common to all southern European countries. Old men sit around, sometimes in cafes, sometimes on benches in the street just talking to each other. There are never any women present. On the upside it’s nice to see that men in these countries maintain friendship interactions that don’t involve large quantities of alcohol, on the downside where are all the women – presumably stuck at home.
My faultless Italian illicited from one of these old men the directions to a cash machine. Well to be honest it was a few words of Italian from me followed by an avalanche of Italian from him, most of which I didn’t understand. Luckily Italian spoken by a native is always accompanied by plentiful hand gestures and so we located the ATM in the end.
On the way back, one of the old men walking towards us on the seafront, just stopped and seemed to stare at us as we approached. Sarah was a little disconcerted and wondered why he was staring. When I looked at myself, with big camera round my neck, shorts, when every Italian is still in winter overcoats, and the whitest legs ever seen this far south, I think I would have stared as well!