Archive for the ‘ Places ’ Category
A taster from last year’s edition:
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bw0OFwQzZ5o
Click here for part 2: Perched at 1000 metres
Click here for part 3: Lessons learned and lessons confirmed
Click here for part 4: Marco Olmo, ultramarathoner, is the guest runner
Click here for part 5: Technical information
Misadventure more like it. Being honest, it’s been a miserable day. Waking up at 2am to be at the harbour by 3.30am (a Virtu Ferries requirement) for a 5am departure to Pozzallo wasn’t a problem. Neither was the crossing with the catamaran as the sea wasn’t unduly rough. However, the gentle rain which greeted my disembarkation was a prelude to a number of unpleasantnesses.
Never having been one to relish cycling or motorbiking in the rain, I certainly didn’t welcome the drops which started to descend with increasing vigour. Although I was prepared for this eventuality, my rain suit decided to lose its waterproofing ability and my Gore-Tex shoes, in a show of sartorial solidarity, did likewise. The result was a 230km trip to Caltavuturo with wet jeans, damp underpants and soggy socks – my spirits were truly sinking in all this water. Another element which is in the habit of unnerving me is blustery wind. This, too, wanted to make its contribution, successfully giving me many white knuckle moments as I struggled to keep the scooter (Piaggio Fly 125) in a straight line, especially along exposed bridges, some of which were literally kilometres long, and along narrow winding climbs and descents. You can imagine my relief when nearly 7 hours later I approached my destination.
Caltavuturo
Shock number 1. The hotel “Agriturismo Mandriagiumenta“, which the map on the website booking.com located as within metres of the EcoTrail della Luna start/finish, was in fact 9kms away. Incredulous, I had to double-check with a couple of other locals but they too confirmed that I had to drive out of town to reach it. In milder weather, I wouldn’t have minded this misinformation so much but not today.
Agriturismo Mandriagiumenta
Shock number 2. I walk into my safe-haven and the owner (who everyone referred to as “il professore”) asks how he can help. I introduce myself and say that I have a reservation for 2 nights. Yes, you can imagine what’s coming next. He’s evidently taken aback because he has no knowledge of my arrival. What’s more, the hotel is fully booked, this being a holiday weekend. I’m left with the hard copy of a reservation which is only worth the ink and paper used to print it out. To his credit, he assessed correctly that the dismal figure standing before him needed comforting. He assured me that he’d sort something out but, a few phone calls later, I’m told that the limited accommodation facilities in town were all taken up. Not even the nuns had beds available…truly. Woeful me, awake since 2am and travelling in inclement weather for the good part of the day, only to find out that I have no room or bed to shelter or recover in. Finally, il professore, whose family home is above the agriturismo’s restaurant, says that for that night I can take over his son’s bedroom in his absence. For the following night, guest rooms will again be available. An hour or so later, the owner relieves me of another headache when he arranges a lift to and from the race with a participant, Pippo, who’s also a resident there.
Despite these apparent glimmers, the gloom still hangs heavy like the weather and I’m really regretting having undertaken this trip. But the WeatherProHD application on my iPad did forecast sunny days for this weekend!
Related posts:
The reason I chose to read this book is because it recounts the journey of the members of the Russian imperial family as they fled Russia, travelling by sea from Yalta to Malta. Though there are few references to my country, they are generally positive. Comments such as, “The Romanovs were elated by the beauty of the island” or “Sofka was very taken with Malta”. The Dowager herself wrote in her diary, “…Xenia and I drove in an open motorcar to lovely San Antonio in the loveliest weather and where the air was full of the scent of orange blossoms as we drove into the garden.”
The main part of the book is written in the style of an on-board diary while the concluding pages deal with the “where and how all the family members and main characters end up over the years”.
In spite of the wealth they had been born into and their kinship to European royalty, I cannot but realize that a refugee is always a refugee, pining for a return to one’s home.
I rate this book a 7/10.
I sit here at my favourite watering hole-cum-feeding trough, attention divided between the updating news regarding the Libyan crisis to my right and palm fronds flapping in the wind to my left.
Sky News dominates one of the flat screens floating between floor and ceiling. Its raison d’être is to update news as it happens but what when nothing happens for an hour or more? Then it defaults to constant repeats, in this case of the video shots of a shot at war plane. A distracted observer might easily be misled into believing that Dictator Gaddafi’s air force is being Shelltoxed from the sky and dropping like flies. Every so often a map of Libya, with different coloured areas to differentiate between rebel-held zones and forces loyal to the dictator, is displayed. In an era when rapid change seems to be the only measure of progress, the unchanging nature of the chart is as stultifying as the expanse of desert it illustrates.
Outdoors, the liveliness of the fronds dancing from the palm trees is a more joyous sight, with the green glistening in sunlight contrasting vividly with sand-coloured apartment blocks; residences that can only be purchased if the Euro symbol is followed by a plethora of digits. An oozing wealth manifests itself not only in the property but also the vehicles, dress and conversation that circulates the area, making me feel like a piece of flotsam washed ashore on an idyllic sandy beach in the Caribbean. I make a tepid attempt at keeping up with the Joneses by flashing my iPad, all 64 gigabytes of it, with 3G and wi-fi to boot. In truth, this lifestyle is beyond my financial reach but as I glance back to the suspended screen, I understand that I’m equally rich to have this luxury of sitting back and sipping on it.
