ballin with curls & octavia my gurl

Bonjourno, ciao ciao, what's up, I'm in Italia!

It is spectacular here, and spectacularly hot. I got in a few days ago, and arrived into Trieste on a mad winding downhill mountain slope. Drivers aren't so considerate here, to cyclists, and neither are the mosquitoes. Seriously, they are like devil missiles. They lull one into a false sense of security and then BAM, they plummet down with full force and rip you to pieces. They have a whinier drone than others I've come across, and suck blood with a vicious voracity. Truly.

But Trieste is nice! My first time by the sea on this wee odyssea of mine. Unfortunately there were no beaches there, but there was a lovely piazza with humming cafés, gelaterias and American tourists. The town is apparently inhabited for the most part by pensioners and children, and boy do they know how to sunbathe. This, I learnt not only from trundling round the place, but more definitively from my star host for the night, fab Sean! He is an American science writer, who massively digs science fiction. We had delicious pizzas and a litre of white wine to share, got merry and talked various talks. He recommends Octavia Butler. A cracking fellow. Thanks Sean, for your hospitality.

This here is the part of town where the bathers go to catch the sun (as if its penetrating rays aren't ubiquitous enough). The local folk bring a towel and portable radio, and set themselves up for the day.

I left Trieste feeling relatively fresh, on a road that hugged the coast for some miles, and was immediately unrefreshed. I made it just over half way to Venice, to a town called Portogruaro, having sweated my own eyeballs out my arse, and wandered about a bit. Barmy place, got a leaning tower and all the rest. Then, having discovered the local area to be fairly unaccommodating to travelling tent-livers such as myself, I sent a few requests out, in search of a couch or garden. And lo, a man accepted. Daniele picked me up from in front of the church in Tiglio Veneto at around 9pm, and led me over to his place. I was expecting to camp in the garden, as that was the condition of his acceptance. When we arrived, however, his partner welcomed me into the house with a grin and open arms, showed me upstairs to my ROOM with double bed, the bathroom with delicious shower, gave me towels and an air conditioning unit for my room, and offered me pasta. I accept! I said. We feasted - pasta, tomatoes, aubergines, Italiano ham, salad, scrumptious cheese, wine, etc. Then, oh then, she gave me a cherry flavoured lolly and made us coffees, and THEN dished out giant, voluptuous bowls of watermelon and dark chocolate. Heavens above. I know. It was like a dream. We talked about Italian and British politics (all of Europe is pissed off with the Brits for our blindingly stoopid blunder, and rightly so), watched a bit of telly and then I went to bed. Spent, happy, overflowing with gratitude and wonder. What champions.

Oh, breakfast was a joy as well. Jee bus.

So then I left, feeling chipper as you like, for Venice. Here is the giant bridge which crosses to it!

I found Venice to be a labyrinthine sprawl of winding, cutesy streets and an impossible network of never-ending canals. It was fun to gambol around, getting lost amidst the columns and bridges, but really it was too hot and heavily inundated with tourists to be purely enjoyable. Obviously I'm just one of the crowd myself, but they don't half grate when there are a trillion of them.

The palace was stunning, as expected, though it took a while to find. You're not allowed to sit on the floor in the main square, apparently. People spit there so it's forbidden.

Like I say, very pretty, but overwhelmingly busy. And I got the feeling that everyone there was thinking the same thing. A whole crowd bitter with itself. And selfie sticks, everywhere, held by singles and couples and sticking out of walls and spewing in streams from the sea.

However, yes it was very pretty.

I camped in a park just across from the old town, in quite a lovely spot. At 7am I was rudely awakened by the dustman I mean torrential downpour, which persisted in fits and spurts until nearly one o'clock. This slowed me down somewhat, as the morning is by far the best time for cycling. It steadily warms up until about 2pm, from which time it is scorching (33-37 degrees usually) until 8 or 9. However, (irregardless) I managed to make up time, and continued to zoom intermittently until evening. Reflecting on the week's adventures thus far, I had to conclude that I had been ballin.

I saw a mighty garden, for instance - though wasn't allowed to touch.

I was gawped at by this grey-haired loser.

And set foot in two of the most stupendously majestic buildings I've ever seen. Both in Padua (or Padover), which really is a gorgeous place. The basilica there is a monumentally awesome construction, and the other big building there is also very big and very special. One didn't allow photos, so I didn't push my luck. There was a liturgy happening, all serene, atmospheric and saturated with a really grandiose feeling of religiousness (...to be expected). The alcoves there, each the size of a small house, are adorned with incredible paintings and murals. Very good walkabout.

After Padua, I slept in an alright place with a magnificent view, of a regional park with lovely big hills and many a sunset. Here I drank my wine and ate bread and cheese.

Getting into Verona was a challenge - I had to engage two oversized knights in a vicious battle. Fortunately, I emerged the victor, but I wasn't left unscathed, no. I've got a bit of a cut on my left shin.

The Colosseum there is mega, and the whole city is a wondrous sight to behold. No wonder Marlowe wrote a play set there.

The streets are kind of a bit like Venice's (sorry if that offends any Italian street-connoisseurs), but are wider and less flooded with hapless tourist energy. The people there lounge with purpose, converse with vivacity or beautiful whimsicality. The aperol spritz is well tasty.

A picture of picturesqueness, no doubt.

I headed out of the city towards evening, in order to secure for myself a swell camping spot. I loaded up on brioches and nectarines at a hypermarket , in one of the most intense shopping experiences of my life, and followed the river north. In a wee town about 10km from Verona, I stumbled upon another summer festival! A young rock/cover band played a brill setlist, which included Suck My Kiss, Another One Bites the Dust and Come Together. Well done them. Vino was 50 cents a beaker and so I had plenty. I slept next to a rather sinister looking abandoned house, and woke up this morning with cream cheese on my pillow. Hmm.

Today, in the way to Trento (where I am now), I was promised 500 million boobies straight ahead. I knew it couldn't be that easy.

And I was right. This honker was in my way.

And this lot (today has been a fantastic day for cycling).

The combination of green river meandering like a giant grass snake through mountains jutting from the earth like another metaphor, really hit the sweet spot.

And Trento, too, is tres bien. Great job Italy! Couple more days of you and then I'll be in Liechtenstein. Now, though, I'm going to go and find a place to swim.

Arrivederci!