We’ve done it before, don’t you know. Here. We’ve ridden bikes where some might no want to ride. Namely. Rural Italy. You know. The little quaint towns and villages, some along coastlines, lakes or vineyards? The roads have barely been updated since Roman times—when chariots went from here to there. And if you really pay attention you can see (and feel) those old horse drawn chariot ruts. Indeed. Not fun on bikes—especially when you have eight kilos of Beckett, the killer pug, in a basket attached to the bike rack right behind you and he’s whining and wheezing on account… well… he doesn’t like being in a basket on the back of the bike hearing the rages of Italian car horns. And to him I say, wait till you marry.
All kidding aside.
We trekked to the neighboring village of Bovalino to do a bit of last minute shopping. The shopping list? Wine. Either fish or meat. Some cheese. You know. Things Italian. To my surprise, we got everything. The thing is, considering the two days we’ve been here, I didn’t think anything would be open. Obviously in Bovalino they were open. So we’re good.
On the menu? From the Weber travel grill: Veal steak marinated in garlic and olive oil, seared eggplant and, of course, wine. After that we’re gonna do new years with champagne.
Vanlife on, baby.
-T
SEEINGLAND 