Globe Gallivanting- motorbiking across the world

We rode across from Sorrento to Bari the next day, via Matera. The plan was to catch the Bari to Igoumenitsa (Italy to Greece) ferry overnight. It was a 17-hour car-ferry with cabins for the posher passengers, and for us smegs a few scattered seats. There was trepidation, oh yes. We set off on the fast and boring motorway. Adam picked up a German in a service station doing a big group tour on a boring-looking bus, and he chatted for while. I think he thought we were a bit mad when he discovered what we were up to though, and he left fairly promptly, though his bus did keep passing us and honking, so possibly he’d informed the driver. We stopped for lunch at a non-descript garage where there was nothing at all non-meat on offer except one sorry-looking, slightly congealed apricot tart. I ate it. Obviously. The barwoman was out-Italianing the Italians with her loudness and banging about of cutlery, and one old guy got so worried he actually left without getting anything at all. We ran aw...

We left Rome after a rest day, when we washed the bike with Head&Shoulders (better on metal than hair). We headed towards Naples and immediately got very lost, stopping in a farmers field to cook rice for lunch and confuse passers-by. Everyone started beeping at us now we were a little further away, and the whole country changed just north of Naples. North Italy went, South Italy shoved itself in our faces and pleased me no end. The roads went rubbish and we bounced through potholes with billions of Vespa-riding, non-helmet wearing kids. They were all behaving very erratically frankly, and Adam switched into Indian-driving mode, which instantly meant he was the most erratic, and ‘creative’ driver on the road. We spent 2 hours lost between the same two towns, and every shop was either a Mozzarella shop or a Salami shop. Except for the ones that sold both. All the bars had a plethora of rough old men outside, gesticulating. It was siesta-time, and every car had at least 3 other pass...

Our next day took us through some very good villages where people waved lots and tractor drivers beeped at us. I think it was friendly. We went through Avignon with lots of cypress trees, and Chateau-Neuf-du-Pape where we watched farmers doing whatever it is they do to their vines. We ended up stopping for a real French cafe experience and accidentally stumbled into a historic walled village of some sort where harrassed-looking teachers showed city kids round, and it all looked very old and pretty, except for the enormous metal grilles on the front doors. It all started getting very southern-looking, with a bright blue sky, and slightly scrubbeir vegetation, and we decided to head for Arles. Our route took us through miles and miles of marshland, sort of wilderness-looking, and a couple of strange skeggy towns with mechanics sat around outside cafes looking mean. We came into Arles, on the coast, expecting great things, and it was about 8pm when we arrived. It was getting dark, and...