Into Antiquity
Italy, Early January 2024
We pull into the dunes, we’re planning to spend the night here. There is a Dutch van here already, the driver waves vigorously and their dog wags his tail with the same enthusiasm. We pick our spot, pretty much the same place we stopped on the way south just before Christmas. This time we are heading north, towards Brindisi and the ferry terminal.
We park with the door facing away from the Dutch, the inside of the van is a disaster area, we’ve spent most of the day on chores and the laundry and the grocery shopping have just been chucked into the van with carefree abandon. No one needs to see that. As we unpack and organise everything properly, clothes in the right bags, food in the right cupboards and boxes, we to and fro over whether to take the daytime or overnight ferry to Greece.
The website says it’s a 9 hour crossing (it’s not, it’s an 8 hour crossing). I like the idea of sleeping through the crossing, Rosana is less enthused by the idea so we opt for the daytime crossing. It will get into Greece in the dark which does not fill me with a sense of joy, but I can see a park up right outside the port. We see the dutch van leave just after dusk and wonder if the pile of laundry offended them somehow. I fight with the Grimaldi website to try and book the tickets and I think I’ve won.
Our final sunrise in Italy is a superb deep red. I know, shepherds warning and all that but the wind is low and the sea looks calm. We can’t find any LPG on the way to the port, it’s significantly cheaper in Italy, but since we only have a 16L tank it’s not the end of the world. I think we still have plenty left, but on checking the gauge when I turn off the gas discover we’ve only got about two days left. The gas barbecue (I know, burn him, but charcoal isn’t allowed in a lot of places) must have used a lot.
Come Sail Away
The ferry terminal is so disorganised it’s funny. We try to go to the boarding point, but get directed by an official to the ticket office. We have tickets already, but okay. I pull up behind a German plated camper and we wander into the ticket office and join the wrong queue. Finally at the correct window, find that we are in the right place and get our boarding stickers.
What next? The guy in a uniform doesn’t know. A security guard tells us that someone will tell us when to proceed to boarding, which is more than he tells the German, but then we do have the advantage of an Italian speaker.
I relay the info we have to German in the car park. The Dutch arrive. Ah, we saw those guys last night. Me too, says the German, we were parked at the same grotty place in Brindisi. We are the only three campers on the boat and we all revert to stereotype. The German is uncomfortable with the lack of clear direction and his nerve breaks. He drives off to try and board the ferry. He doesn’t come back so he’s got somewhere. Some time later the Dutch leave because they feel like it and they don’t return either. I’m not convinced that someone will come and tell us when to board so have a cup of tea and Rosana makes some sandwiches.
But there he is! A man in a uniform frantically waving at us. I give him a thumbs up and drive to the boarding area, sandwich in hand. Somehow the Dutch are in front of the German. I’m not clear on how that’s happened.
The boat is not busy. A few lorries, a few cars and three camper vans. No one is searched, no Id’s checked, no dimensions are checked. I could have booked us on as a Smart car. We have to reverse onto the ferry, then along pretty much the whole length of the ferry. The Dutch get their long overhang caught on the ramp which makes an awful noise but they avoid any real damage. I do my best impression of a reversing snake.
All Aboard
We get lost trying to get out of the car deck and a Bulgarian family rescue us. We end up on the cabin deck and get redirected to the cheap seats. The ship gets underway almost immediately and we race to find a good place to watch Italy disappear. We bump into the German and for some reason discuss all things food as we watch the land shrink into the distance.
We’ve really enjoyed our time in Italy and Tuscany especially has stolen our hearts. The food, the pasta in particular, has been delicious but I can’t help being a little disappointed in the simplest of things, the bread.
Over our recent travels we have experienced some fantastic food. In Uruguay the food was always superb, the Asados and when I found a good one, the Chivitos. And such delicious deserts. The bread, of which there was pretty much a different type every day was always delicious.
Through France, well, baguettes. Enough said. Ordering a baguette is pretty much the only things I can do in French.
So I had high hopes for focaccia, the ciabatta and the panini but they all seemed to disappoint. Maybe I was just buying from the wrong places, we did get some nice rolls from a place in Otranto. Maybe I just set the bar too high?
Luckily the ice cream was so good that all is forgiven. How will Greece perform on the bread scale?
Greece, Early January
Without much warning, especially as I think we’ve got another hour to go, we arrive in Igoumenitsa. Unloading is just as entertaining as embarking. There’s no one to tell you what to do. The Bulgarians just drive off, so I follow them. The German follows us. The Dutch were caught offguard by the sudden arrival, so are not back in their van yet.
The Bulgarians stop to talk to someone. I stop behind them. He’s not an official, just a someone, we get waved around after a short while. There are no signs for an exit, not even in Greek. I look to the left, the German heads right. Left looks like a closed gate, so head right as well. And then, we are spat out into the night. Our sat nav hasn’t even found a satellite yet but somehow we make it to our chosen park up.
It’s a lorry park and it’s noisy. Don’t want to stay here, try to leave, but find a ticket operated barrier. We didn’t get a ticket on the way in. Twenty minutes later, with the help of the police we break out of the lorry park. The German had mentioned a car park next to a school, that is our backup plan.
We turn into the car park and there are the German and the Dutch. We park up and say hello.
Before leaving the next morning, I learn that the German is called Felix and he shows us his self built camper conversion and he’s done a great job. He’s young, just out of the army and heading south for the winter, we’re heading east. We wish each other happy travels, I doubt we’ll see each other again. The Dutch are still sleeping.
Flickr Album: Ferry Crossing