Il Autostrade

In Italy they have this really horrible thing. A horrible thing designed to fleece you of money while delivering you from metropolis to metropolis through the most barren of landscapes, ensuring you see as little as possible. It's called the Autostrade. After exiting the ferry in Bari we got on it. And drove. And drove. Until some time later when we took the exit to Rimini, a coastal city far north from where we started.

We took solace from the oppressive heat at an over-commercialised beach covered in thousands of people. We laid in the shallows under the blistering sun, watching the beach goers alternate between the sea of deck chairs blotting out the sand and the gentle gradient of the water. We didn't stay long. After an hour we had showers and headed inland, following signs to San Marino. We found camping right in the city, just before you start heading up Titano in earnest.

The next morning we followed the rest of the winding road to the historic hilltop capital, perched precariously on the edge of a sizeable cliff. We parked in a residential area in the usual ridiculously narrow streets. As we passed through the park leading to the ancient city fortifications we saw numerous groups in medieval dress practicing archery. Over the course of the day we saw so many, its almost like a good 50% of the country's population are members of said societies.

 I stepped over the wall by the far tower. The drop is respectable. I don't think anyone would have ever been stupid enough to mount an attack on the city from this angle.

I wandered slowly through the hilltop parkland, passing numerous other medieval archery groups. This country seems to be unique. Its citizens seem to live very differently to anywhere else I've visited in western Europe. San Marino really does seem to be very liveable.

One of the city's many medieval societies

We walked up a tower for a view and quickly discovered that you can actually walk on the city walls. Numerous walkers stared up at us walking on the narrow ledge that serves as a walkway, six odd metres above the ground.

We came to the main square and just wandered, separating every so often. I wanted to get a taste of what made this country historically distinct enough to still be its on country. I still don't know. It seems very Italian but the way of life seems very different at the same time. You have to be there to feel it. There's just something about it. The way of life seems so relaxed, so casual, despite the high number of banks and other financial businesses in the city. Its highly modern and functional yet strong to its roots at the same time.

 

Free camping!

After descending Monte Titano it was back onto the Autostradh. We wouldn't get off again until Genova, one of Italy's bigger cities and an important port and financial centre. The city itself would have to wait until the following day. After a huge ordeal we found perfect camping at nearly a thousand metres, in view of the sea and with the periodic sound of church bells echoing from the monastery above.

The following morning a man who introduced himself as the monastery's technical director, a job that probably only exists in Italy, came to say hello and invited us to come up and see the church and use their facilities. It was very kind but it was already late and we were in a hurry so we headed into the city.

The historic city encompasses a huge are in Genova and also seems to function as the central business district. The fusion of old and new is astonishing. It made me smile to see many in suits walking down renaissance era covered walkways with mosaic floors.

We found a cafe and got some WiFi before going looking for climbing shops. On the way to the shop that the cafe owner showed me on a map Dan suddenly asked, “Do you have the keys? Because I don't.”

The dense mess that is Genova

“Surely you do, check again!” I responded, brushing it off. He turned out his pockets. Nothing. He searched his backpack. Nothing there either. I did the same but had no luck finding them in my possessions either. We both swore loudly and began a very frantic, desperate search through the city. I had no idea what the outcome might be if we couldn't find them. The spare keys were sitting in the car. I could picture them in a cliplock bag with other essentials, tucked between the seats.

We retraced our steps to the car. “What the hell are we doing?!” I wondered aloud multiple times. We had almost nothing. Just a vague memory of me handing Dan the keys on a grand staircase by a church before dropping down to street level. There were gaps in both of our memories and what was worse they didn't match.

We returned to the place in both our memories. We scrutinised the stairs. No sign of them. Perplexed, we walked over to the railing we had taken photos from overlooking the tight facades of the city centre, aimlessly walking along looking everywhere. After 50m we found them. Sitting on the railing. We surmised I must have thought I handed them to Dan but really just put them on the railing next to him because he was taking a photo. I had taken them off him to go back to the car to get something and hence automatically wanted to return them when I came back.

The stone railing ringing the balcony is where we found the keys...

We were lucky. Very lucky. Feeling very relieved we drove out of the city towards Varazze, a small town between Genova and Finale Ligure.