Tropea, Italy

For newbies it’s the surprises and the anxiety that make it Vanlife. The good and the nerve wracking. It makes the juices that flow through veins both human and Bulli. Am I wrong. Go with me here for a sec as I wax pseudo Vanlife poetic.

We’re new to this stuff. We started in May, ‘22 renting a Bulli. We took delivery of Seeingland the following August. And so. New always brings levels of anxiety–at least for me it does. My biggest concerns when we embark is the drive, the campsite, is this newfangled, high tech uber-expensive wunder-van gonna hold up? Although our VW is new and bright and shiny, the tech in it should make anyone anxious. If this thing breaks down… in other words, I don’t even want to imagine what could go wrong with Seeingland. Wow. #Nomatter.

What about the weather, the neighbors, leisure among Europeans that can only lead to late nights of wine, fresh bread dipped in olive oil and music and funny smells that up to now I’m guessing can only be attributed to retirees and their equally old RVs. At fifty-nine I don’t want to be a funny smelling camper yet.

Enough waxing pseudo-poetic. Enough praise for the adage: Der Weg ist das Ziel or the reward is the journey. Instead. All anxiety aside. Seeingland may have found her first holy Gail on our Vanlife journey–in, of all places, holy grail country–which, for me, is now southern Italy.

We arrived in Tropea in the early afternoon after a rigorous trek through Rombiolo (previous post). My better half’s nerves were shot from the serpentine roads and thin olive grove village streets. After our last descending serpentine it was as though a heavenly light shinned upon us. Suddenly there was turquoise waters galore, a village above us built thousands of years ago, carved atop that cliff. Directly in the middle of it between the Med and a serpentine stairway leading up to Tropea is a campsite. We were speechless. For a few moments anyway.

Vanlife on.


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