La Dolce Vita

[nsew]

I’m at the camping, only this time there is someone on reception. I’m on foot, a ways up the entrance road conducting reconnaissance. I want something they have. A shower. There’s a down ramp of about 60metres leading to a large barrier where the road flattens out. The large sliding reception window is to the left, facing and permanently manned. The gap between the barrier and fence is quite tight but doable as the left pannier will pass underneath. However there is a curb of sorts to the right that dictates a high level of accuracy. The left passage is out of the question. I could leave, unload the bags somewhere and just look like a regular N European tourist. Where’s the fun in that though. Plus it could prove to be a costly mistake in touristville. Most significantly it was a tough, hilly, hot ride in and I want a shower NOW, not later. I wait until an arrival shows up, put my sunglasses on, turn the corner and hit the down ramp at speed. I’m monitoring reception guy as I descend but soon have to concentrate on the space between barrier and curb. I must of been doing 30kph when I shot through the gap, leaning the bike to the right and balancing my body left. I have no idea if he saw me or not. It was tighter than I thought and if I hadn’t pulled it off, I and my kit would of been strewn across the campsite entrance. A bad look even by my standards.

Same again today (without the bags and with change of clothes). I think I’ll ride through casually waving with a pronounced “ciao bello!”.

[nsew]

Mikhailis from Crete refused to believe there was a house of prostitution in his home town. I was the night manager (sole employee) there some years back. That was some job, let me tell you. I called it a day (or is it night) shortly after carrying a deceased client out of there with one of the girls. The old boy must of been knocking on ninety and was a regular. It would take him forever to get up the long wide marble stairs on arrival. I liked him, he would always greet me with a wink when he finally got to the desk.

Today I have a shower appointment at 1200, made in the company of her Milanese boyfriend who thankfully doesn’t speak English. So I’m having a lay in, even though I can hear the farm occupants in their yard. I’m nicely hidden and downwind of any dogs. Then I’ll make the very pleasant 15km or so ride back to Touristville.

[nsew]

Well, not long after posting that legally debatable post, I had to get out of there sharpish. The kids were straying a little too far from the house for comfort and there was a bloke harvesting nettles not more than twenty yards away at the copse edge. I waited for the voices to quieten and gave the gatherer time to move on. A fast pack in the tent, everything bar sleeping kit into the two Carradice and out. Release the two side stakes, unclip the pole tensioners and the tent is flattened, poles extracted, rolled up and bagged. Whoosh. One minute tops. I’m no longer technically camping. The Unna, a masterpiece of Swedish simplicity and construction. You can just about make out the nettle gatherer, behind the second tree (r-l). A short ride through the woods and I’m on the cool leafy terrace of a bar where the fella obligingly fires up the exquisite espresso machine.

[climo]

best post on this forum ever

[nsew]

Nymphs. Byron and Dickens before me. I couldn’t be sure whether he was plain clothes or another of the persistent queers that are legion around these parts. The Lakes. Either way, at some point during the second Corona I reasoned that now was a good time to leave the area. Boats are best and always last on.

[nsew]

When I first met her she said that she only smokes when she drinks. She smoked one hell of a lot. Everything she owned was either gifted or stolen. To my knowledge the only thing she paid for were the medicines for her beloved Mastiff. Presumably because her arms weren’t long enough to reach behind the vets counter. A prolific reader of stolen books. Anyways, I decided it wasn’t working out between the four of us. Five if you include the dog. And there was the Chinese-Italian woman’s brother who was falling apart in that oddly controlling Chinese way. I digress but it was on the same road so thought I’d slip it in. The married Italian surf instructor, who my friend was very keen on, was acting like only a jealous person can. The Milanese boyfriend had yet to return from a rave after 3 days. She would make the short beer run to the mercado on her stolen French festival bike - three were already downed on this particular return. It was always a blessed relief to return to the total calm of my spot.

[nsew]

Rolled up here last night feeling good about the change of environment. Back on the road always feels good. Avoid stuck. Missing a couple of teeth and a gash on my forehead but that’s a story for another day. Carpe diem.

[nsew]

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[nsew]

My great great Grandfather was a Barrister, band leader, bank manager and bank robber. Fair play. He led his own string band in the NW of England where he also managed a bank. “A man of the utmost character and trustworthiness” as the Manchester Guardian of the day reported. He wasn’t a Cambridge educated Barrister of Law but the Americans bought it and he progressed to making representations at the US Supreme Court alongside a former President. How much did he rob from the bank he managed? About two million in today’s money. I once lived 500 yards from where his Chambers were located in San Francisco (where he passed away), though I suspect he would not of approved of my lifestyle at the time. Few did.

https://youtu.be/ttJBdr6eBuo

[nsew]

The road of excess, leads to the palace of wisdom.

[nsew]

The camping at Saint-Tropez. Tight.

[ConRAD]

... very frankly speaking I can't understand this thread. Thank you.

[Cyril Haearn]

That is the attraction for me, it challenges me, not sure if I quite understand it
What do others think?

[Samuel D]

I think the words are perfectly understandable and well arranged. I don’t believe all of them, but enough of them ring true to make the reading good. The photos are crap and add much to the story. La vita depicted is far from dolce, although some beauty is apparent as in a William Eggleston picture. The man and his motives are opaque and intriguing. Keep it up, nsew … if you live.

[nsew]

Eggleston mentioned in the thread - I can finally rest. It was the fake flowers and vases embedded in the wall and trailing cable. I would of liked to continue the stories from the road, they flowed there for a while. But the traveling changed, the hours changed and well, everything changed. The geese flew over a couple of days back and first thoughts were that the trip is finally over. It’s been mostly reflection since departing Italy. An extraordinary journey for sure. Thanks for reading and for the generous comments.