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In Which I Generalise, Sweepingly
May 17, 2008 by Mike
Follonica
Route: Marina de Pisa - Livorno - San Vincenzo - Piombino - Follonica
I've just remembered: there's another reason I was a little wary of going out with the brothers again last night. It was the look in their eyes when they explained how they came to speak such good English.
"We lived in New Jersey for a few years when we were kids," they explained. "Our father set up an import-export business there."
All I'm saying is.. Don Corleone had an "import-export business". That, and the look in the brothers' eyes..
--
I actually rode the first few miles of this trip yesterday -- in to Livorno on the hunt for parts to repair my poor old tent. Riding them again less than 24 hours later just proves how zonked I was feeling yesterday. I recognise nothing -- except that today I feel OK and yesterday I didn't. I wasn't driving drunk, but there was something going on, or not going on, inside my head. Metallic cotton-wool, perhaps. Formaldyhyde seeping through my eyelids. Aliens playing water-polo in my brain. The thought that won't stop rolling around my head: did someone spike my drink on Thursday night? (Or is that just self-denial and the truth is I just had a phenomenal hangover?)
Anyhoo, I got to see Livorno again with fresh eyes -- literally -- and it's good to see a working port again. Lines of busy fishing boats prove that the industry hasn't died here as it has in so many places I've seen. Although, there are tales of horrendous overfishing (it's a story so shocking it qualified for the front page of The Independent last month) so maybe these boats are the enemy rather than happy throwbacks?
I idled down the coast. Castiglioncello was a fine old castle on a hill, with views both north and south that would have benefited from a little less rain. I was stuck in a small diner below it for an hour or so, working my way slowly throw the local paper and enjoying the music. Mine host, it turned out, was a Clash fan.
At Piombino I got my first glimpse of Elba, every bit as forbidding and isolated as any schoolboy could hope for, an angry thundercloud passing across the island. Somewhere over there, a few miles from where I stood, a man with a motorbike was looking back at the mainland, cursing: "So why do they have bright sunshine and blue sky when we have thunder and rain?"
I didn't feel like stopping, though, so I got back on the coast road and reached Follenica across a low, dull plain. (Plain is such an appropriate word for the landscape here.)
And, for the same no good reason that I didn't stop in Piombino, I did stop here. The threat of torrential rain (I almost got away without mentioning it. Almost) overnight and all day tomorrow means I'm in a cheap hotel. And it *is* cheap.. and with reason. Still, if I'm too cowardly to camp I figure I should suffer in other ways. A quiet evening watching the locals stroll up and down as they watch each other. We all ate too much icecream. The passeggiata is alive and well in another little corner of the Mediterranean.
--
The thing about Italy that I'm finding hard to accept is the weath--, I mean the drivi--, sorry I mean the litter on the highways.
It's everywhere, as regular out in the country roads as streetlights are in town. (Not that there are many streetlights here.) Glance down at the side of the road or, if you dare, stop at a lay-by: plastic bottles, glass bottles, fast-food, newspapers, condoms, cardboard, cartons, plastic bags, crap. Lots of it.
I'm starting to think that Italians don't deserve Italy. That's a terrible sweeping generalisation and.. I can't stop noticing things that justify it. OK so they can't be blamed for the weather.. but the driving.. and the rubbish.. and the state of the roads.. and.. and.. and I'm expecting it all to get worse (except for the weather) the further south I get. Or is that a sweeping generalisation too far?
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