OMG if you’ve never traveled trying to use an Italian GPS, you have NOT experienced the real frustration of being totally lost in a foreign country, or finding yourself in the middle of an olive grove because the voice said turn left!
We set out on the simplest of journeys and in one day had enough close calls to bring my blood pressure up and enough cortisol running through my nervous system to unnerve a Buddhist monk.
Maybe you remember from last year or maybe not because I don’t think I even mentioned the incident. At some point last year I noticed a huge scrape on the right rear side of the rental car! I nearly had a heart attack right then and there. I was with Joel at the time and we wondered if this happened when we were led into some field with NO road, just a rutted path that we kept shifting the car from left to right. Joel said no. He insisted Peter did it backing out of the insane driveway which is actually not a driveway but an old public road. Of course Peter was gone and could not defend himself. Regardless of who did it, I was hysterical – I did not take insurance out on the car 🚗 and I could only imagine the scene and the cost at the drop off location. My last week was ruined. I called Peter crying and he calmly said, talk to Pasquale.
I did, and Pasquale says, “No worry, you meet me at the bar at 5:00, I take you to my friend, he fix your car.” Pasquale is like The Godfather in Guardia and in two days the car was “perfetto”.
OK that’s the back story, with that in mind AND the fact that this damn FIAT 500L is bigger than I had hoped, I am ever vigilant of any scrape or scratch. Therefore we are not long on the road when true to reputation, the GPS has directed us onto a road/path that actually ended in clump of trees!
To make matters worse yet better, the car is equipped with a warning system for backing up. That is beeping and flashing yellow then red as Peter carefully attempts a K turn by inches. If he goes back, there is a drop off into water, if he goes forward there are trees and two rusty iron poles (God only knows why they are there). I am out of the car trying to guide him with my frantic pounds on the back of the car yelling STOP!
We made it out unscathed that time, hoping this isn’t a percentage game. Onward and this particular day we seem to be driving in all the wrong directions. There’s nothing so uncomforting as driving on a narrow twisting road and having the GPS voice repeatedly say, “when possible turn around”!
Our next mishap was somehow we ended up in an olive grove. How you ask? Well the GPS satellite doesn’t recognize the difference between a path in an olive grove or vineyard and an actual road. So here we go again traversing a narrow path completely surrounded by olive trees with no end in sight. We don’t know if there is an end and you cannot turn around. Onward down a hill and there is an old man on the side of the road working. We stop…He looks at us in utter amazement. I don’t know the Italian word for lost so I throw up my hands and shrug my shoulders, and I think he understands. He points down the road where there are two men and a woman and a truck and a tractor. OK it’s worth a try. We pull up and in between hand gestures and some Italian, I make it known we want to go to Guardia Sanframondi. Thank God I know the Italian words for left, right, and straight.
After a while on the road, I can see Guardia’s medieval castle looming in the distance. At least we know we can get home, but we have yet to get to our destination, which is this great vino and olive oil place called Forresta in Castlevenere. I am determined to get there to see Assunta, the owner, and buy some of her tasty olive oil.
The Tasting Table
Destination reached, hugs, kisses and smiles. It is so amazing to be in another country and return a year later to be greeted like old friends. After we bought some olive oil, I promised Assunta that prossimo mesi io ritorno con Joel, le actor. They loved Joel who ate all their bread dipping it in olive oil.
To Be Continued…
I want to buy a jar to take home and the olive oil. We went out of town towards Telese to the Forreste cooperative. What a place! Like gas pumps, there are huge silver tanks with indications as to what wine is in them. You literally pump your own wine in multi-liter jugs. This is definitely better than a wine club!
Bill Ding and his band of clowns are the security patrol for this blog site. He is a favorite toy from the 50*s. By the way sometimes a blog is just an ego-maniacal stream of conscience.
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