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January 18 Wednesday Bicycle touring Italy from Porto Bello Sardinia to free bike camping beside a lake near Porto Torres Sardinia Italy. We are in Italy. This fact is slowly sinking into my head. Mainly because we have no money. That's right. I tried three more auto bank tellers, all with the same result. It looks like a person to person transaction tomorrow. Asked at a gas station for a gabinette. Another word to add to my list of washroom utterances. (The ferry said Igiene Dammes. That's the women's, as was pointed out to me by a ferry employee as I went to venture inside obviously pleased with myself that there were toilets behind this door. Sharon says I should have been able to figure out Dammes. Too many names for the same thing. Sharon tells me the difference. Ladies -- That's a woman who can go without touching the seat. Dame -- That's a woman who can go without touching the seat and smoking a cigarette at the same time.) Anyway, it seems as though gas stations here don't commonly have washrooms. Look out bushes. Cloudy today. Good cycling temperature. A
little cool when we stop pedalling -- especially it there is
a breeze blowing. Took a picture of a rock ruin by a Nuraghe. Also ubiquitous sheep and a wind blown tree. The thick shrubbery here is referred to as Mediterranean bush. It is fragrant. It is hardy. Reminds me of the Tuckamore trees on Newfoundland. Ate lunch by an old barn and aqueduct. Filtered water out of the duct. A guy stopped to tell us there was a view of the sea (mare) a kilometre from here. Sharon tells the guy, "Yes, we've been married for ten years." Strange first question to ask someone she says to me. Cycling into Castlesardo I take a picture from atop the bank. Castlesardo is on a peninsula, jutting into the sea. In the foreground is a feed trough for sheep which were on the road just to the left. The countryside never seems to be far away in Europe. Leaving Sorso, some boys yell out "Do you speak English?" "A little," I shout back. Sharon says "Sometimes." We pulled our heavily loaded touring bikes to a stop to chat with them. They come over and apparently this is about all the English they know we quickly discover. Free camped by a tiny lake on the way to Porto Torres. The overcast sky is emitting sporadic drops of rain. It is warmer. We are out of food (and money of course.) |
