RAOC Gazette - page 127
Image details
| Corps | RAOC |
|---|---|
| Material type | Journals |
| Book page | |
| Chapter head | |
| Chapter key | |
| Chapter number | |
| Full title | RAOC Gazette |
| Page number | |
| Publication date | 1978 |
| Real page | |
| Colour | No |
| Grey | No |
| Early date | 1978 |
| Late date | 1978 |
| Transcription |
A TRIP TO ITALY By Lance Corporal John Self HAVING spent months preparing for a four week holiday to Italy, I finally left Lubbecke in my Morris Marina 1.8 saloon with all the camping gear I had built up over three years of touring in Europe. Vienna was my first important stopping place, but en- roule I camped twice, once in Middle Germany and then near Salzburg, on a mountainside. At Salzburg, my car somewhat overloaded, almost scraped the ground as I took the one in five hill to the campsite, which offered a commanding view of this beautiful Austrian city. On my way through the small country roads from Salzburg to Vienna I passed some wonderful forest and lakeland scenery, eventually arriving at my chosen campsite—just within the suburbs of Vienna. As it was late in the afternoon I decided to delay going into the city until the next day and instead took an exploratory stroll in the local area. The next morning was hot, sunny and ideal for the early Grand City Tour, which, fortunately, was an English-speaking one. The luxurious, well ventilated coach took me round all the magnificent sights of Vienna stopping for about an hour at the beautiful Schonbrunn Palace, where a guided tour led me through the most glamourous rooms with their enormous and priceless chandeliers and Old Masters. There was also enough time to walk through the colourful gardens of Belvedere Palace, from where one had a magnificent view of the city and the Vienna Woods. Two hundred and ninety three steps to the top and a precarious but beautiful view. I left Vienna the next day in pouring rain and drove South towards Klagenfurt, some three hundred kilometres away, but as the weather continued to be miserable I decided to miss Klagenfurt and make straight for Venice. Shortly after cross- ing into Northern Italy I passed the villages that had been flattened in the terrible earthquake a year before. The devasta- tion was terrible to see—a mountain had suddenly crumbled and rolled down felling houses and churches like matchsticks. Hundreds of small wooden mobile homes had since been built along the roadside for refugees and since these were of such good quality it appeared some were probably better off than previously. The hundreds of lorries laden with wood lining the roads, waiting to cross from Austria into Italy suggested that the housebuilding programme was far from complete. I eventually arrived at Punta Sabbioni, just across the water from Venice and stayed two nights at a reasonable campsite recom- mended by two Australians I had met in Vienna, In the morning I travelled on a surprisingly cheap ferry across to Venice and took a stroll through the maze of crowded, narrow streets. Inevitably, I got lost but found my way back to St Marks' square without too much trouble, Where the gladiators are now replaced by ice cream men. Later, I looked over an Italian Frigate and suffered the ignomony of having my camera confiscated for the duration of my stay aboard. The whole promenade on the Venice sea front was lined with competing souvenir shops offering a variety of car stickers, ashtrays, postcards and childrens toys. Also in abundance were artists, mostly drawing in charcoal and coloured chalk with varying degrees of expertise. The next day I took the road to Pisa where I climbed the lwo hundred and ninety three steps to the top of the famous tower to find a very dangerous drop to the concrete below— and nothing to stop one from falling over the edge. In spite of that the view of the city was quite breathtaking and one could see the whole of the town, including the high walls that surround it and the Mediterranean away to the East. I took a walk across the beautiful green lawns and along the quarter mile long row of souvenir shops before driving on to find my next campsite not far from Pisa. I then followed the wide coast road to Rome catching glimpses of the Mediterranean on my right for much of the way. The Coliseum, after I found it, was particularly interesting, one could imagine the gladiators coming out to fight from behind the tall stone pillars. They alas, are now replaced by dozens of ice-cream sellers and hundreds of American and English tourists. After a short drive to the Vatican and St Peters square, I left for Naples. The signs from Rome were confusing and I found my- self getting lost, but before I lost patience completely I asked a Gendarme who directed me. Still scared that some Italian would crash into me from the bustling traffic I closed up be- hind the tail-lights of a massive juggernaut and folowed him out of Rome. Once again I followed the beautiful coast road and arrived in Naples in an intense midday heat. It was as hectic here as it was in Rome so I quickly escaped the traffic and drove onto the Autostrada, turning off near Pompeii. The old ruins were a fantastic sight and in size, comparable to a small market town in England. The roads were built on a block system and one could still see the chariot ruts in the roads. It was easy to see how well the Romans lived centuries ago—they even had central heating! I left Pompeii and headed south for Sapri, about three hundreds kilometres down the coast; the map suggested that the road over the hill would be shorter than going round the coast through countless villages, but in the event, this proved to be wrong. It took me hours to negotiate the steep hills and sharp bends through the mountains between Pompeii and Salerno, where in many places I was slowed down by donkeys and small slow-moving three-wheeler trucks. Once through Salerno I stopped at the famous temples at Paestum, where, on huge grass mounds there stood three enormous and magnificent Roman temples* the huge white pillars still look- ing in remarkably good condition. I had more hills and very poor narrow roads to negotiate before I eventually arrived at — 343 |
| Book number | R0246a |