Italian Quagmire

11 Nov

Having arrived in Bari after an 8 hour ferry rise through mildly turbulent seas we arrived in Bari. A seemingly charmless port town perched on what will never be a coast as pristine as Croatia. Without a plan, direction or knowledge of the heel of the boot, we found ourselves heading to the train station for some research regarding a path through Italy. We discovered our journey would not be as simple for cyclists to get to Rome. A traditional ticket without the bikes would get us there in 8 hours flat no problems but to take trains equipped to carry the cycles, it would take at least 2 days and four transfers. In theory we could ride across and over and through the mountains but neither of us are particularly thrilled with the prospect of spending any extended time and money to do so.

With an empty stomach we were drawn across the street to the McDonalds for some American familiarity and free internet, which was immediately regretful. We resigned ourselves to explore the Pulia region for a couple of days, as our hosts in Dubrovnik enthusiastically recommended. Prisitine white cities, circular pagan roofs and a 10 course dinner in Ostuni was enough to draw our interests.

With a path before us, we bid farewell to Dane our travel companion across the Adriatic and headed out of the city. We picked up a decent map at a book shop and began the complex task of navigating our way out of another city. We found a bike path and were about to reach the city limits when from out of nowhere, we were flagged down by a young italian on a bike who introduced himself as Francesco.

"Where are you from, where are you going?"

"Not quite sure, out of the city heading south."

"Come with me, I can help you. I will introduce you too my friends."

Now I know most folks are trained to be cautious and never speak to strangers but he had a dyno on his front wheel and in my book, any cyclist that sports one cannot capable of sinister evil. So we followed this curious young man back in the direction we came from back to the city and into uncertainty.


One Response to “Italian Quagmire”

  1. Mike, Abby's dad November 11, 2011 at 4:58 pm #

    And!!! I’m not real good with the drama. Write on.
    Actually, way back when, a similar thing happening to my brother and I while wainting to go through customs at the Geman-Danish border. The difference being, I knew where we were going. Trek on.

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