An ‘Interesting’ Day

552km – somewhere near Asti. East of Turin.

The night passed comfortably enough at the Riom Campanile. I involved myself in some inner deliberation as to whether to spend the morning in amongst the volcanoes. But decided it was better to keep travelling.

H had a very short wander and we were on our way.

Fuel prices in Normandy were between 20 and 30cents per litre cheaper than the UK. However on the motorways fuel is much more expensive. So, I resolved we would refuel locally, once we found a gas station. Which is what we did. But later, we encountered the horrors of prices of Italian refuelling. It never was up to much anyway. Or rather, the fuel prices there always used to be ‘up to’ a lot compared with elsewhere.

Lyon was the first obstacle on our journey. It was not at its best in the obstacle stakes in that it didn’t hinder us. No hold ups and we didn’t go the wrong way. Not even once. And it was in the same place, unlike Tours which has migrated elsewhere.

We just kept going in mainly sunny conditions, no rain showers. We trundled all the way to the Frejus Tunnel, through spectacular mountain scenery, taking us into Italy, which was an utter disgrace. Well the FT was a disgrace. There was a sign warning of a ‘blockage.’ We assumed this related to the road works, re which we were also forewarned.

The ‘blockage’ was actually a hold up, more or less at gun point. Half an hour of being stationary, and not going anywhere, not moving at all. The vehicles queuing were mainly lorries which can’t use the mountain passes, and therefore pay the ransome that the tunnel demands. Using the passes is what we should have done. The traffic was held for over 30 minutes in both directions. I was thirsty and needed the loo which didn’t help. Nor did seeing all the men able to relieve themselves at will and wherever. T was becoming more and more fractious.

The roadworks were not the guilty party, it seemed. A very large police presence at the tunnel entrance, suggested other causes.

T was seriously beginning to ’lose it’ by now. Our ’singing’ had worked its way through another play list and repeats, and I couldn’t drive and find something different.
T was also losing the plot over feeding the tolls with tickets and bank cards. Every time, I gave him the bankcard and the ticket in the correct orientation for the machines.

Every time, he turned them over and upside down. Every time, I explained the system. If it was a case of a tap, he still turned it round or held it in the wrong place, not against the wifi icon. Every time, he got angry with me. I bit my tongue until…

… there was the final melt down. One of these days he will find himself on the side of the road, with his passport and a few euros. We / I had been using his bank card for tolls and fuel. He suddenly decided he was going to keep his card. I’ve looked after his card for at least four years because he kept forgetting where he had put it. No complaints at all, total compliance.

His melt down became utter fury. And he hung onto his card. Of course, as I drove along, anxiously, I was trying to see which of his many gilet pockets it went into. Of course, he hadn’t a clue where it was at the filling station we stopped at, near the tunnel exit.
He eventually found it and by devious means, and sleight of suggestion, I persuaded him to part with it. (Using it to buy him an ice cream) I kept it and vowed to cut it up later.

Trouble is, I don’t want to give him one of my cards to use in case it gets put somewhere unknown to me. It does not help, that here in Italy, there is frequent toll activity.
The remainder of today’s journey only improved when I found another olaylust. or even playlist from the 1960s . Problem – it only had 2 tracks on it. Ferry Across the Mersey and the Carnival is Over.

We passed Oulx in fully heated disagreement. In any case, it was a bit early to stop there.

The hotel I finally chose was near Asti just below a walled citadel settlement. Tricky to find, but in a beautiful woodland setting round a few hairpins. It turned out to be a Best Western. Our room was large and spacious with a huge balcony.

Hotel track to car park, not a public road.

A setting full of mosquitoes. That set T off again, though he was surprisingly restrained. ie He was not insisting he needed to go to A and E, unlike the last time he got bitten. The temperature was 31C. And as for me- my ankles provided the main course. We hurriedly closed the windows.

I actually emptied the car to delve into a ‘saved for Greece’ bag where I found some Korres anti-mosquito bite lotion. A bit late in the day, but psychologically soothing.

We ate at a recommended restaurant within the citadel area. That was fairly disastrous too. They didn’t serve ANY beer, never mind zero beer. They only served wine. By now, I was on the edge of my seat with all the stress the day had brought.

Surely things couldn’t get much worse! I eyed up T – he was unable to read the menu; (the light was too dim and he couldn’t understand it either, but neither could I ) he was drinking 7 up; he was complaining about his insect bites – not the best evening out. And I commend him on only minimally winging about the lack of beer. The meal was good and the proprietor was helpful over food choices. Our mood improved.

It was dark after all this and I still have not sorted the main beam stickers. Memo to self … do it! Nor have I checked the oil that I went out of my way to pick up. We did find our way back to the hotel. I only went wrong once!