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 spent 4 days in Sorrento. The campsite was the best I have ever seen, with an amazing psychedelic tiled bathroom with green and blue paisley tiles, little bright green lizards lurking on rocks, orange and lemon trees and 360 degree panoramic views across the bay. I lay about like a holiday-maker and made daisy chains and ate and drank, and did Absolutely Nothing Else. We drank wine and ate pizza and wandered around the little town watching couples eat icecream (a national sport). We wandered in to a café for an awkward encounter with an espresso and a barman, and mistimed lunchtime siesta so didn’t get fed that afternoon- every single place shuts down, even the beggars know to find a place for a snooze. It was all far too peaceful and relaxed so we headed out for a ride to Amalfi and walked up and down ancient steps and photographed old tourists by the water, and visited cafes just so we could use the toilets and run away again. Sat on the steps eating 1 Euro slices of pizza and ...

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...

We were zooming through Italy because it was all so expensive, and we couldn’t even afford the campsites without breaking our budget… The next day saw us head towards Rome, via a half-hour stop at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, where we managed to illegally zoom straight up to the Tower and get a photo of the bike in front of it, before being hurried away by an irate stall keeper (admittedly we were parked in front of his stall, but he only sold tat anyway!) Pisa was full of tourists wanting the one shot and jostling for space to get it. There were touts who didn’t seem to try very hard, and restaurants with over-priced grub, and rotund Americans wearing daft T-shirts, but we just waltzed in there, wandered round and left. The roads were stunning off the main roads, and we kept off them from then on, riding down perfect tarmac with great motorbike bends, and reaching Rome and the campsite by 4pm- record time!!! We wandered the campsite area in the evening before realizing we probably...

We left towards Monaco, not having quite had our fill of uber-rich filth, and zoomed through, stopping for long enough to photograph the bike and Adam next to some millionaire toy-boat, and riding on a short section of the Grand Prix track, where they were setting up all the start flags etc. I got humiliated by a very swanked up postcard seller in a bow-tie and breeches. It was a very full-up place, with hotels with swimming pools on the roof, and garage attendants who sneered at you. The Barclays branches looked like 5-star restaurants, and Lambourghinis were as common as Fords would be anywhere else. It was small though, a little bay of mentalness, and we passed through and into Italy without noticing. We didn’t realize we’d crossed over until the service station man was speaking a funny type of French we couldn’t understand. There were espresso bars in the garages, and Estonians in tiny cramped vans with their babies swaddled up so much they couldn’t see out. The motorw...