Do you know the way out of Torino, dat dat dada dat dad dah dah da

---

19/10/05 - Lorenza’s plan “drive as far as we can from Menaigo toward France as possible”. Sounded like a good plan at 11pm last night. This morning we took our planned route, which according to the Michelin map was a major highway, but not an Autostrada. Yeah, right! It took us three hours to travel about fifty kms, through so many industrial towns I lost count. Trucks, trucks, trucks and more bloody trucks!

We decided the minor highway was a total joke and consulted our map, deciding to head for the nearest Autostrada to cover as much distance as possible. Now, I thought the Italians, being the descendants of the Romans who invented roads and highways, would have their act in order when it came to roads and signage. No way! There were road works everywhere, the signage is crap and we were lost in no time.

We made the outskirts of the city of Torino at about 5.30pm. We had studied the map and thought we had it all worked out. No chance, what hope have you got when a sign indicating you should go directly ahead has an arrow which points down and to the left - what the hell does that mean? So, we ended up in the centre of Torino, and as our luck would have it, they are the hosts of the 2006 Winter Olympics, so there were road works and diversions galore.

We had to find the town of Susa, and the road to France, I spotted one sign pointing to “Francia” and immediately headed that way. Lorenza, who was in charge of the Italian dictionary and road map, said “that’s just a town name; they don’t spell France that way”. So I made a U-turn and in no time ended up in a traffic jam in the centre of Torino. We stopped and asked a number of folks for directions, but they all seemed as confused as we were. We began to wonder if anyone knew the way out of Torino. So, we began singing a tune to keep us sane to the music of “Does anyone know the way to San Jose” which we called “Does anyone know the way out of Torino”.

We spent a lovely two and a half hours driving in circles, then spotted a sign to Susa. I made an illegal turn through a red light, across the oncoming traffic, going the wrong way down a one way street (which all seemed completely normal for Italian drivers) and we found our way back on the road pointing to “Francia” we had been on two and a half hours ago!

We found the first hotel we could in Susa, the Hotel Stazione, and did not care what the room was like. Our host Loris sympathized with us saying that “even people from Torino are lost in the city because of all the works”. We had a few drinks with him before retiring and discussed many topics, including why he rode a Honda CX500 Custom and not a Moto Guzzi.

Descendants of the Romans - didn’t they invent roads, and highways?

20/10/05 - We have decided that, even in the daylight, Italian road sings have to be up there with the worst in the world. We were following what was supposed to be the main route from Torino to France, via Susa. Exiting Susa the road is narrow, then widens to what seems like a major highway, then narrows down to a country lane again. Right on a hairpin bend, climbing a mountain, is the sign to the T4 via the Frujis tunnel. This is on one the major routes between France and Italy and the sign is about two inches tall, right on the bloody bend. No warning at all, hit the brakes, turn hard right, and slide onto the T4.

Lovely people the Italians, very warm and friendly but they cannot organize a piss up in a brewery, let alone a road sign. Good luck with the winter Olympics Torino, hopefully 10%!o(MISSING)f the spectators might find the way through your city to watch some of the events. If you are wondering where the other 90%!a(MISSING)re, they are probably lost somewhere in the back streets of Torino!

The above sounds harsh, we had a great time in Northern Italy, great food, splendid wine and some of the friendliest people we have ever met. I guess once you are there they just never want you to leave!

Back in Francia

Once back in France, the signs make sense, the truck drivers almost stay out of the wayc as we overtake them, and we cover a lot more distance. We are heading for Sainte Nectaire and some friends who have a hotel there.

The country side we pass through reminds us of the land around Orange or Blayney - big open fields, with sweeping hills in the distance. The road is open and honest, with no Italian surprises to catch you off guard. I can almost imagine a pub and a Tooheys sign in the distance.

"De ne rien jeter par les fenétres”

20/10/04 - One of the conditions of your stay at Saint-Nectaire is that you “do not throw anything out of the windows”. Fair enough I guess, but, it made me wonder if it has been a big problem in this village or not. I had visions of this instruction resulting from a mass invasion of foreign tourists throwing chairs or tables from the windows, but then, if you consider how close our room is to the road, if you did so would cause a massive traffic problem for the two cars or cows that may pass through town this year!

No, I paint a banal picture of this town. They have a casino after all! I was told at the hotel bar that the farmers in this area have plenty of euros to spare and love to put the excess on the roulette table. So, for a village with about 5 or 6 houses they have an amazingly large casino which services the wider rural area.

So, do we have a language problem in this rural part of France? No chance - the hotel is full of folks from Rotterdam in the Netherlands (or le Pay Bas in French - the low lands). So, immediately Lorenza is conversing in the language she heard from birth until she moved to Australia at four years old. It always amazes me how easily she slips back to Dutch despite never haven spoken the language for a number of years. Obviously, once it flows in the blood it flows from the mouth!

Never mind the Dutch language, after a few wines and a Dutch Gin, even I begin to understand what the gist of the conversation is. Plus, in our travels I have always found Dutch people to be very open and always do their best to include us non-Netherlanders in the conversation and fun. I am sure they could talk and drink with anybody in the world and overcome any language barrier with a smile and an offer of a beer!

Cheese buried under ground for 12 months

Tonight we dined on a local specialty, which included a potato and cheese dish. The cheese is said to be buried in the ground for six months, dug up, turned over, re-buried then dug up again six months later. After a bit of cleaning up, the cheese is then melted over the potato and served up with some jambon (ham) and salad, and washed down with a local red. Sound appealing? It tasted wonderful - although you need a good wooden clothes peg on your nose to avoid getting a whiff of the cheese - the aroma of Munster cheese is a breath of fresh air compared to this fromage!

From Grappa to Dutch Gin

Anyone who knows me just a little would realise that I do not mind a drink or two (perhaps more). There is that saying that all travelers keep in mind at some stage, even if it is a bit corny - “When in Rome ….” So, in Alsace we drink Schnapps, in Paris or other parts it is Pastis, in Italy it’s Grappa, in Sainte Nectaire with the Netherlanders how can I say no when I am offered Dutch Gin - I do not wish to cause an international confrontation between our two fine countries so after a bottle of local red naturally I say “yah” to a Dutch Gin. Particularly after the gentleman that offers it tells me he has been to Australia and knows we are not one to say “nahh” to a drink. I must keep the reputation alive and drink the gin on the rocks until the bottle is empty “hic”, “hic” - “Tanks, I tink it’s the timo for the bedo, so longas it does not spino too muchio”. Oops that’s Italian, right now I could be anywhere in the world so who cares!

PS: While I am typing this Lorenza is downstairs engaging in a game of Rumy Cup, just like the gin, it’s a very Dutch thing. Our hosts here, Martin and Nellie, are also originally from Rotterdam, so it makes life interesting to converse with them in a mixture of Dutch, English and French. They claim that I have a very Aussie accent no matter which language I speak, but I beg to differ - I am certain I have no accent at all - or is it the affects of the gin?

We have mentioned a few times that after drinking whatever local drink there is in the prescribed quantity it is possible to speak and understand any language of the world.

---

Photos

Get us out of Torino
Rob hits 154kms/h in the Renault to get out of Torino

Back to Francia
Lorenza happy to be back in France

Saint-Nectaire
Lorenza plays that game in Saint-Nectaire