San Leo vs San Marino

San Leo wins by a knockout. No question. San Marino is the big name, the famous tourist destination, but San Leo is the real thing. You can see each other from their separate mountain perches, being only a few miles apart. San Marino is an independant country, dating from the time when Italy was just a collection of city states. It is now a tourist attraction and duty free area, so the place is flooded with tourists from all over the globe. And I do mean flooded. I was there on a Tuesday in the off-season, and the place was packed. And every doorway is either a museum, a restaurant, or a shop. Tijuana is not this bad. Nice view, though.
San Leo, on the other hand, is a quiet village with a fortress perched on a craggy peak. There are a few tourist shops and some nice quiet restaurants, but it has none of the hype and pressure of S.M. And it has nice views, too.

I tried to see a couple of museums yesterday. both were closed. The National Motorcycle Museum is tucked away in a farmhouse in thee middle of nowhere, and the Ferrari museum is really just a marketing shop in an industrial center. Strange how all thee museums I want to see are very difficult to find. Or maybe that isn't surprising, in Italy.

 http://www.mapmyride.com/route/it/rimini/759127425609157942

 This dog would have torn my throat out if the fence wasn't there. And all I wanted was a pic of San Marino.

This is San Marino.

This is San Leo.

 San Marino from San Leo

 Traffic stopper in San Marino.

You can't get there from here.

This is how I got from Verona to Rimini - more or less. One thing I've found, in Italy, you can NEVER just go around the block. If you miss a turn, or make a wrong turn, it will take you a kilometer and 20 more turns to get back to where you were. It is an insidious and perverse strategy to confuse any invader. Most of the routes I post are pretty accurate. In Verona, Ravenna, and Rimini, I have gone places I have no idea how to find again, and I have no idea where they are on a map. I pride myself on not getting lost, on knowing where I am, always. The Italians have got me beat. I've reached the point where I just wander for a while, having fun just going, until I'm far enough gone to ask where I am and how to get to my destination. Thank God I have no schedule and no plan, or it would drive me crazy. I'm just laughing at the chaos of it all.

http://www.mapmyride.com/route/us/ca/san%20diego/218127425361685110

 Rimini harbor. The light was flashing on and off. Dunno how I caught it on.

Rimini beach.

FOOD

I know some of you are far more interested in the food than what route I take. Harumpf. OK, here's the scoop:

The food has been hit or miss. Not what I expected. I remember from years back how good the bread and beer were in Europe. Well, life has gotten much better in the States, I guess.
The beer is universally good, but I haven't found many outstanding darker (porter) beers, and the paler beers aren't any better than many American microbrews. More powerful, of course, butt I'm looking for the great flavor that I remember. Maybe my taste buds are getting old, or maybe I prefer the Northern European brews. I'll keep looking. Wine - I've had a couple of mediocre glasses, but most has been excellent. I mean, cheap house wines that are great. Whites and reds, I don't bother looking for labels. There are far too many to keep track of, and besides, I have no idea what I'm drinking, but the local stuff is delicious. I think I paid 4E for a half liter carafe in a restaurant.
Bread - another shock. I think I start too late in the morning. By the time I get to the shop, all they have left is bland white bread. It's all better than typical American bread, but I'm used to the French Gourmet baguettes and country bread and Whole Foods loaves. I KNOW there's great bread to be had, and I've got to look harder.
I'm going to forget the fried fish basket I had last night in Rimini. I should have known - a tourist spot by the pier, and the fried fish basket with grilled veggies was overcooked, bland and poorly served. There have been enough other good meals to remember. I had the BEST ravioli in my life - in Germany. Chervil, padano cheese, pine nuts and mushrooms. Wow! And the pizza and spaghetti is outstanding. I had an asparagus pizza that was amazing. And the broiled shrimp and calamari skewers I had a couple of days ago were pretty damn tasty. Then there was the "blue" trout I had in Switzerland. I don't know what it means to cook something "blue," but it was sure tasty.
As for the sweet tooth - yeah. Pastries are the best. And the best local meeting spots are gelatarias. Yum.

Ok. That'll have to tide you over til I eat more. Oh, except for brekkie. Breakfast in the youth hostels is great. A buffet of yoghurt, cereal, bread, cheese, butter, jam, coffee, juice, fruit, and more. heh heh heh. Yeah, food's OK here.

Sunday's scare

I got scared today. Once was because of a road. I'm not normally scared of heights, but this thing, this ridiculous thread of a road, this microfiber glued to the side of a wall, really spooked me. It was barely wide enough for two bikes to pass each other, certainly not two cars. A sheer rocky precipice for hundreds of feet, and barely any railing. There were a few tiny tunnels, 2.5m wide by 2.5m high, where they couldn't scratch a turn on the surface of the cliff. I'm glad I can say I did it, but I don't need to do it again. Well, except that the rest of the road was pretty damn incredible riding.


The 2nd time I got scared was serious. It was only an instant, but I thought my trip was over. And it wasn't on a mountain road. I'd just entered a village square. It wasn't huge, but there were 5 roads converging, and the main thoroughfare made an ess curve. It was perhaps 75 meters from side to side. The plaza was empty, except for a man standing there hitch-hiking. He was the first person I've seen hitching in many months, in Europe or the States. I was traversing the square when a woman entered from the other side, driving a small car. She must have been distracted by the hitcher, because she did the first part of the ess through the square, but not the 2nd. as we passed, she kept veeering toward me. She was less that 30' away when I saw she was aiming right at me, about to T-bone my bike. At the last instant she jerked away and missed my leg by less than a foot. That got me so nervous, I had to stop for a sandwich and a beer.

http://www.mapmyride.com/route/it/agordo/455127417575724742

She was very kind in helping me calm down after that last scare.

The easy road.

Saturday, the 15th

OK, I wanted adventure, I got it. But the next time I think about going off-road on a top heavy bike with street tires, just stop me. I mean it. Slap me upside the head if you have to. I tried to do the Forcella di Lavardet that John Hermann mentioned in his book. He called it "interesting, occasionally rough," and said "parts are unpaved." Hah! There's only a tiny part that is paved, if you ask me. I should have listened to the timber trucker who told me in German it was very rough and not advisable. I should have listened to the wood cutter who told me in Italian that it was very rough and that I would probably fall. But, no, I forged ahead. But just before the exquisite set of 16 paved hairpin turns that John mentioned, I made a wrong turn. I didn't see the paving and went left up the mountain. Steeper and steeper, the road got worse and worse. soft dust with lots of loose gravel. I tried to change from the right track to the cleaner left track and midway through, the rear wheel skidded out. I was now pointed offf the road and toward a steep dropoff. I grabbed both levers, put my feet down, and the bike fell on its side. I picked it up fairly easile and moved on, but slowly. It occured to me that if something happened I could be in real trouble because by this time it was obvious the road was rarely used. I started thinking about how long my little cache of food would last. I reached another big patch of loose ruts and got stuck. This was a stretch of 100 yards of mire. And it started to rain. I was burning the clutch trying to get traction. I finally unloaded all my gear and the saddlebags and got the bike past the rough part. I rode up another few hundred yards and got stuck again. This time, it looked like I'd have to carry the bike every inch for 100'. A nightmare. I had a hunch I was near the top of the pass, so to see if it was worth continuing, I took a walk. Sure enough, the pass was only a couple of hundred yards ahead. But it was Paso di Gola, not Forcella di Lavardet. Heh. I think I bagged a pass the King of the Alps hadn't done, even if I had to complete it on foot. But the sign at the top said it con tiued on to Sappada, not Comeglians. Oops. That wasn't good. So, I turned around and on my way back I saw where I had madee the wrong turn. I went up the right road and quickly found the set of paved hairpins. Yes, they were nice, but it was only a few hundred yards later that the paving stopped. Pushing forward through more soft spots, I came to a ford. The river was at least a foot deep and flowing strong. There was no way a motorcycle could make it past all that water. So, that's when I gave up, went all the way back to the highway and called it an adventure.

http://www.mapmyride.com/route/it/toblach/782127417234586403

Where I dropped it.

Paso di Gola is just out of view.

That was probably the best day of riding in my life. I've run out of superlatives. Awesome, superb, fabulous - it just deosn't get any better. I went over 11 passes and it seemed the scenery just kept getting better, and the road more fun. Fast zig-zag esses, narrow village alley ways, high hairpins, and glorious snowy mountain vistas. Paso Duran may be my favorite. It started as a tiny one lane road through a few small villages. I had to stop several times to let other cars by, the road was so narrow. Then, around one corner the view just exploded with a towering mountain above me. Climbing over it was ecstatic, as each bend revealed another mountain beyond, either clear and sharp in sunlight, or shrounded in a steaming mist. Simply magical.

And I didn't even get on the road til noon. I spent the morning in Bozen shopping and catching up on the Internet. I'll miss that place, and I wish I had more time to listen to the buskers playing accordion. I wanted to check out the Messner Mounain Museum, and the ancient body they found in the ice, and a few other things, too. Ah well, next time.

http://www.mapmyride.com/route/it/bozen/115127417086877207

I wound up at the youth hostel in Toblach, possible the nicest hostel in the world. It started as the Grand Hotel in 1880 as an exclusive resort for the rich. It went through a variety of uses over time - during the war, it housed the military geographic service, later a nun started a retreat for disadvantaged children, and for many years it was in disrepair. Staying there with me was a children's choir and a team of (American) football players from Valencia, Spain.

Yes, it's snowing.

That little alley between the two buildings is the main drag through town. Pretty typical of many towns.

The youth hostel in Toblach. Not bad.

Thia was a short ride - a loop over the fantastic Penser Joch. It was freakin' cold! 2214 meters high, with snow all around. A gazillion bikers were out on a fine day. Some local riders may think it's all in a days ride, but everybody up there was giddy about being so high and so cold.

http://www.mapmyride.com/route/it/bolzano/616127382586541953#success

Here's a vid of the start of the ride down:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcDBsbrEKZg
It's too bad the vid of the ride up had condensation on the lens. It was much twistier and more fun.
FWIW, I'm not sure how many more vids I'll post. It just takes too long to edit & post. I'll still take them and try to put them up when i have a lot more time.

I'd been asking about live music in Bolzano, and most I talked to were not too upbeat. I was to the point of saying I don't care if it's a single guitar, a duet of tubas, or a full orchestra, I just wanted to hear live music. Well, wandering around town after a delicious asparagus pizza with a 1/2 carafe of local red wine, I heard noises. I walked around a corner in the old town walking district, and there it was - a full 60+ piece south Tyrolean orchestra, warming up. Complete with lederhosen, felt hats with feathers, and big buxom blondes in traditional Tyrolean dresses, they struck up a good old march, with two tubas in the back doing the oompahs. Yeah, magic.