We love the Italians!

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Next was a campsite on the coast called Vittoria, about 40k south of Venice. Again it is almost wholly Italians. We chose a shaded pitch under the pines, totally sand. We had to have three attempts before we could get our car back off the pitch as it just sank. It will be interesting to see how we get the caravan off after a week!

The big attraction at the site is the large beautiful beach, lovely fine sand and no restrictions on where you put your own umbrella. Of course there was the usual 'lookie lookie' boys. The beach kept Michelle happy but Terry liked the on-site shop which sold various wines on draught (bring your own bottle). We had our fair share of delicious Prosecco at €2.80 per litre! It tasted great as well.

The reception told us the best way of getting to Venice was by ferry from Chioggia, 30 minutes away, unfortunately only at 9.00am, not Terry's best time. However needs must and we arrived in time to join the hoards arriving in coaches. At nearly 11.00am we arrived at St Marks Square. Of course we walked and walked round the usual sights (in Terry's case for the 5th time). However, everything in Venice is worth seeing again; from the top of the 99metres high Campanile we could see almost every building in the city, but as they say, not one canal! Knees and feet hurting we had nearly an hour to spare before getting the ferry back at 5.00pm. Michelle decided we should go in the Palazzo Ducale as there were some famous paintings in there. After a few minutes queuing we saw the entrance fee of €24. So we walked around St Marks Square again!

Italians, as we said before, appear not to be friendly but maybe they are shy. Certainly our neighbours here are friendly despite us only being able communicate by Michelle's incredible ability to pick languages up. One afternoon they brought us two plates of cockles still warm from cooking. On Sunday we were invited by the people opposite to watch the Grand Prix and received liquors and coffee whilst the race was on. Then back again to watch Andy Murray in the final (they also were cheering for Murray).

Another day on the beach and a search around the local shops to find a puncture repair kit for Michelle's bike (Terry had neglected this in his tool box) and we were ready to move on to the expensive sites at Lake Garda. That is, when we get the caravan out of the sand pit!

Despite the offer of the campsite tractor, Terry decide she could try to get the caravan out himself, whilst Michelle was taking her last shower. No sooner had he started chocking up the jockey wheel than he was almost surrounded by Italians with sheets of wood and advice. Within 20 minutes the caravan was out but the wrong way round. It was necessary to do a 3 point turn. There was lots of advice on reversing but as Terry was listening to one staying stop, another was waving him on, he chose to keep going until he heard shouts from all directions from the crowd which was now about 20 come to watch the English fun. He had stopped about 2 feet short of a new Mercedes. Panic over everyone started laughing and waving us arrivederci. We love the Italians.

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