21 st September

Trudge, trudge, trudge?.

Out of Pitigliano with a1:100?000 map: that?s what you call being optimistic beyond recovery?
Coming down from the hilltop, I tried one of the tracks that I hoped, would take me of the tarmac straight away.
There was a big sign where this track turned off, reminding you to respect the beauty of the countryside: THAT MUST BE THE ONE. I thought I?d hit luck straight away and would be heading into the lushness of the surrounding countryside straight away and along some VIA CAVA, trotting in the footsteps of the Etruscans,
The path was full of secular rubbish instead; the caves in the walls were as well. A couple of them where transformed into dog kennels, with live dogs in them barking at me. The next thing on the right was a sewage-recycling unit. This one was not too smelly. A few more dogs and all of a sudden there was a wooden gate, with a rusty locker on it and decorated with barbed wire, in the same fashion one puts electric Christmas lights around one?s plastic Christmas tree.
Retrace and swear. One of the tiny dogs that had tried my nerves because he was on the loose, had disappeared from the scene on my way back to the main street.
I did find a path taking me towards LATERA eventually.
Trudge, trudge, trudge it was though. Desolate countryside on dusty paths under a sun that had found a new shine. Not a lot of shade either.
Or maybe it?s got to do with walking alone again a week of having company.
Trudge, trudge and put as many km?s behind me as possible. I lost my way once or twice; courtesy the dreadful work of Multigraphic maps in Firenze, but made it more or less according to schedule.
I?m now in the region Lazio and the little village of LATERA, which looked pretty grotty from the outside, was actually quite pleasant once you were heading up the hill.
Not a tourist, children playing in the street, twiggy cats straying, people looking out of windows. My slightly more optimistic tone here might have something to do with the fact that I located the guy who served drinks in this village, behind one of these plasticky bead curtains. No sign to tell you that alcoholic beverages were available for general enjoyment here.
Mind you, nobody seemed to drink anything. All the tables were taken with people playing cards. I took my beer outside and had a chat with what I decided was a gentle pensioner who explained to me the road towards my next destination.
There?s two rules if you trek on foot in Italy:
1)Italians are normally useless at reading maps. Mind you, they might be aware that maps are useless and just don?t trust them.
2)If in doubt just ask your way when you meet somebody. People are always very helpful. (I didn?t say accurate, but that is not their fault, because they hardly ever walk anywhere). Actually ask several people and then do some probability calculations and you might end up with the plausible route to take.
(Coincidentally, I?m sitting in another BAR of the same kind writing this, after my last stretch of trudge, trudge along a tarmac road: there?s about 15 blokes sitting inside and about the same amount outside and as far as I can make out, I?ve been the best customer here over the last hour with two beers and a bag of peanuts. I think one glass of coke and a coffee have been sold apart from this. Sorry: a chinnotto has just been crossing the zinc counter, so this might actually pay for the neon lights that where put on at 4 pm bang on for the card players. He?ll have to sell a bit more to cover the cost of the blaring telly, though).
I?ll be in BOLSENA tonight, two days ahead of schedule hoping to update the website and start on the last stretch down to Rome one day ahead, which will give me a bit of time to visit places I?ve never been to yet.


P.S. An old buddy on crutches just moved across on his way to the loo addressing me in some language I did not immediately recognize (it was supposed to be English):
?Yoo lika beeeeee? (True I?ve now had three tiny bottles in two hours)
Means two things I reckon: he wanted to show me he spoke some English AND he thinks that spending the equivalent of 2 pounds 50 in two hours is crazy if you can just sit there for free.
He might be right, but he had not walked the distance I had and was therefore not as thirsty as me!!!!
Mind you he was on crutches ??I kep on asking myself why most men over 60 seem to be. He mumbled something about the Lybian dsert not having done any good for him, but one does wonder whether there isn?t some sort of compensation scheme offered to invalids, that is being exploited rather heavily ?