Travelling north

Well the responsibility for the blog has been handed over to the junior partner.

Rain! What! For the first time since our arrival in Italy we arose to the sound of rain. I guess one shouldn't complain, after all it means Sir Bradley Wiggins will have no chance in the world champs road race judging by his performance in the rain in the giro.

After covering the floor with clothes Di finally made her selection of the essentials for a few days of conferencing. The selection was rather simplified by the fact most of her clothes were dirty after an internet search for a lavandaria and Gloria conspired to leave us in the middle of what appeared to be a housing commission area with no sight of the requested service, in the dark on a Saturday night. No thanks.

A two hour sprint up the autostrada saw our panda snapping at the heels of many French and German adversaries. As with most small animals it was very brave but ultimately left wanting.

Milan malpensa airport was negotiated, and one half of the team despatched after plenty of helpful hints from the other half. Fortunately I didn't have to mortgage the house to get the car out of the airport car park, a sure sign we weren't at home.

As the blogger had taken Gloria mark 2, I moved to mark 3, the single user version. Things were going fine until the rain got serious and I discovered I didn't know how to keep the wipers going. Note to self, listen to the man giving the instructions on handover. Tunnels proved a blessing and ultimately a stop at a toll station gave me time to work out how to use the wipers.

The closer I got to the mountains the heavier the rain fell. Gloria was doing fine while the destination was Stresa, but once I refined the search to my hotel, she decided to take me back into a little town I had already been lost in (my fault, not Glorias surprisingly) I thought the streets in the old cities were narrow but I discovered they were Appian ways compared to some in little towns. As I knew the town was by the lake I gave Gloria the flick and went back where we had been. A phone call to the hotel had me wandering in ever narrower back streets until I asked a local (when in doubt?). The car park for the hotel was for pandas or smaller. Both mirrors turned in and about 5 cm from a wall, with just enough room for a car to pass.

It hasn't stopped raining since i arrived, and sometimes it has poured down. What to do? Motogp on the box. Cycling on the box, what else. Just like a wet Sunday at home. As called Sir Brad wasn't sighted, nor was Cadel. In fairness they must have frozen as it was almost as wet there as here. Two walks around town required the cords and solid shoes and a rain jacket. Oh well at least it has justified some of the clothes, and reignited the appetite: roast veal with veggies and tiramisu with no one to help me!

Di messaged in to say she had arrived and it wasn't raining there, go figure. She took the camera so photos might be scarce for a while. Hopefully the weather will clear so I can see the lake and the mountains sometime soon.

I have learned one thing today: don't always trust Google maps. It isn't very good around here. Roads have the wrong name and places can be off by kilometres.

It appears travelling north here can be just like at home: perfect one day, pissing down the next.