Keep the Car Running

Lucca, Italy. July the ninth, year two-thousand and eleven. THE date. The center point of our trip. My birthday present from Ali. Arcade Fire.

We were hopping by the time we rolled into Lucca. Fresh off a day of yachting, we knew the evening held equally great things and we were ready/excitable/anticipatory/impatient/wanting. This date had quite literally been circled on our calendars since the day we knew we were coming to Europe, and all other things be damned, this was the only requirement. To fully understand why, let's first understand Lucca. 

Lucca pre-dates (as in, existed before) 180 B.C., when it became a Roman colony. It has a stellar history of liberty, tracing on the swells of imperialism toward its perpetual victories of autonomy. In the 16th Century,  to protect itself from rival Florence, the city enclosed itself in red brick walls that remain fully intact today. Inside the high walls, renaissance architecture joined ancient structures, filling the maze of cobblestone streets with over eighty religious communes, some with churches dating to the 8th Century. Once upon a time, it served as a home for Dante in exile, and the Divine Comedy is suggested to be based on the city's feudal families. 

Deep in these streets, in a medieval plaza surrounded by centuries-old facades and centerpieced with one very naked marble fountain, we, and our 80 oz. of beer, joined a thousand or so Italians for Lucca Summerfest and Arcade Fire. Oh, what an evening it was!

Neither of us had ever seen Arcade Fire, and we have both been devout followers since their earliest release. This, even in something as familiar as The Troubadour, would've been spectacular. Down in the medieval streets of a walled city amidst Europe 2011! -- it was simply perfect. And yes, they were every bit as great as expected. Highlights of the show were definitely their entrance -- Ready To Start (yes, we were), as well as No Cars Go, Keep the Car Running, Modern Man and, of course, Wake Up. The rightful closer. As we began the evening with pizza and pasta (this is Italy, afterall), we polished it off as only one could -- with the rightful closer -- gelato (The three first concert photos were taken on my phone because sadly, Mark was banned from the event).

We stayed a second night in Lucca to experience the region a bit and not rush ourselves after the promising, and proven, perfect night. The next day we stole out of the city and followed the Wine Road into the neck-breaking bends of the Tuscan countryside. There, among the olive trees and grape vines, in the heat of a Tuscan summer, we stumbled across a restaurant where locals go. We feasted on pancetta, prosciutto, fresh baked bread and fine cheeses; drank a 1 euro jug of young wine; and watched the local old gentry shout at F1 racing with a fervor usually reserved for soccer fans. We followed the road out, wound with the river Serchio, and found a nice, bubbling rapid in a forest bend where I took a dip and Ali smiled incredulously.

We woke up the next morning still on cloud nine. We had no destination, no funds enough to continue on to Switzerland, and no real idea of whether it'd be best to continue our route toward Munich or alter paths to the more affordable Croatian and Slovakian lands. It was all of little matter though, for nothing could destroy our last three days. We picked a direction with a coin flip -- North -- and so that's where we headed...

Dreams

We are the luckiest. Plain and simple. A friend of my step-father's owns an apartment in an old building in the small Med-side town of Antibes (nestled between Cannes and Nice in the South of France), and was overly kind enough to let us stay there for three days. It was an amazing escape from hostels and cars and one unimpressive, not even blog-worthy stop in Toulon. There was a bath tub, a kitchen, and a view of the Cote d'Azur just 300 feet from the window. 

Our first stop was the marina (the largest yachting port in Europe) to pick up the keys from the very lovely James, who takes care of and captains our friend's boat. While we were there, he offered to take us out on our last day for a little cruise and maybe some jet skiing. Michael's face lit up like I've never seen it, and it was a done deal. We slept like rocks in the air conditioning and spent the next day doing much needed bathtub laundry, squeezing in some beach time, wandering the city, and cooking a warm and cozy dinner. 

The next day we suited up with giant smiles plastered on our faces and met James at the boat for our first yachting experience. We headed out into the Mediterranean and towards an inlet between two islands that was apparently nice for swimming and relaxing. After a feast of cheeses and meats, James took down a the mysterious toys he'd been talking about: SeaBobs. These were soon to become Michael's ceaseless obsession, Jet Skis be damned. We hopped into the warm, incredibly blue water and started up our "toys" (Navy SEAL technology...). In short, they are like riding battery powered dolphins, or water sleds as the maker calls them. I wont bother trying to put it into words, just go to the website to see them in action. It was definitely one of the coolest things I've ever done. After I was able to drag Michael away, we headed to shore of one of the islands to check out the Lérins Abbey, a monastery that has been there in some form since the 5th century. After a beautiful stroll around the island, we headed back to the boat for a little more seabobbing, and a sleepy cruise back to port after 7 hours of sun and fun. I could have stayed in that little town for weeks longer, but we had a concert to get to in Italy the next day, feeling refreshed as ever...

The Long and Winding Road

We strive hard not to cut corners or settle for less, and when it comes to car camping in Europe, that mantra is no different... regardless of the result. Cadequés had been a daytrip. A stopping point between Barcelona and the South of France. However, we had two nights to kill. So after Cadequés we set out for neighboring Port de la Selva, which is the next harbor north.

This worked out well. While Port de la Selva doesn't maintain a distinct character or charm like Cadequés, it is still an amazing location, complete with lighthouse. I love lighthouses! So naturally, we chose a camping spot in the parking lot beneath that glorious giver of light.

Once parked, we mixed up some cocktails in the trunk from the mobile bar (some things don't change on vacation), picked the pointiest point in the trio of harbors and set up our dinner picnic with 270° views of the Sea. Paella rice, fresh bread, fresh avocado, fresh tomato, pesto, some delicious sauteed peppers and chicken Ali whipped up in Barcelona, and a bottle of wine. Perfect.

We ate and drank and laughed, took in the sweeping views and then realized, despite the sun having just set, that 10pm had come and passed and therefore returned to the car for a good night's rest. This didn't happen, however, because Costa Brava in the summertime is hot (shocker), Pepé (the car) doesn't have good ventilation, and the area we picked to sleep was scarce on people, but heavy on mosquitos. This meant suffer the wrath of the heat or suffer the wrath of the mosquitos. We eventually chose the mosquitos and I somehow sank into five hours of rest. Ali's tally for the night... one. Maybe.

Needless to say, Ali was a bit tired the next morning, but she was a trooper. After a dazzling sunrise over the Mediterranean, we drove the winding road from Port de la Selva to Sant Pere de Rodes -- a former Benedictine monastery a few thousand feet up the Pyrenees over Costa Brava. Mentioned as early as 878 A.D., Sant Pere de Rodes is considered the cradle of Catalan Roman architecture, and is a remarkably well-kept structure featuring ample construction and artwork dating back to the 10th Century. With an extensive blueprint, we spent over an hour exploring the terraces, naturally-cooled cellars, cathedrals, courtyards and crypts of the isolated sanctuary high above the Spanish coast.

All good things must end though, and we left the halls of two millennia ago in search of new adventures. Unfortunately the next day and night were hardly worth the telling, and even had they been, would have little sway over our next, planned destination...