Written by Rod

The major highways in Italy are fantastic. Three lanes in either direction. Great signage. Cruisy driving. The roads/lanes off the highway and in the villages are a nightmare. It vaguely resembles some sort of video game; where you accelerate and pull out and pass a slower vehicle on a whim and slow down to squeeze past an oncoming vehicle in the narrower sections. Cars just seem to be parked wherever someone felt the need to hop out of their car for a chat or to pop into a shop. The locals drive care-free; on their phones and/or smoking. At least one hand waving in the air at all times. I drive with permanent white knuckles, in a state of constant apprehension of the next situation.  There is not a moment of relaxation to be had at the wheel once off the highway. I am getting sweaty palms and palpitations as I write this. I kid you not.

We reach Campagna. We have Sat Nav built into our leased, brand new Peugeot. We also have some directions written down by the former owner of our property. We also have the contact number of our host in Campagna. What could possibly go wrong? None of these prevent the drama of the next hour or so. In fact, they are all complicit. Firstly, it turns out the directions are very confusing. We ditch these when we get to the village. Next, we call the host, who, it turns out, speaks no English. We send him a photo of the roundabout where we are lost, hoping he will rescue us. I think, as I write this 2 days later, it is still sending. He sends us latitude/longitude coordinates in decimal format. I change these into degrees/minutes/seconds using my calculator and we decide to give Sat Nav a go. Biggest mistake of my life, not counting my ex-wife.

I figure Sat Nav can get us close with these coordinates, then either Plan A (the written directions) or Plan B (contact the host) will be more likely to succeed. Sat Nav had other ideas. I was led through the bowels of Campagna. Each new laneway was narrower than the last. “Surely not!” was my constant reaction. Jess had to get out of the car to check that we could fit through. Fortunately, the Peugeot has retractable side mirrors. Otherwise we would not have made it through. I am not exaggerating.

We then crossed an “intersection”, comprised of 4 buildings pointing towards a crossing of doom. Sat Nav wants me to turn right, but there is no room. I have to go across the “intersection”, into a dead end, so that I can then reverse and turn back into the intersection. There is a car parked in this cul de sac.

It restricts my turning room and I feel like Austen Powers, inching back and forward to no effect. Fortunately the owner appears out of nowhere and moves his car. It is still a tight fit and his experience in this “intersection” is vital in helping us to extricate our vehicle. He points me in the same direction as Sat Nav and thus instantly creates suspicion. I look at Belinda and she shrugs. So I follow our new Messiah, down the lane.

Now we come to a T “intersection”, just as narrow as the previous “intersection”, only with one less option. The Messiah tries to coach me around this corner. It’s like deja vu all over again with the Austen Powers thing. “Avanti” is his common command. He motions me to turn the wheel and, when I look puzzled, simply reaches inside my window and turns the wheel for me. Belinda thought he would climb on my lap at one stage. (This was not an option, due to the lack of room in the laneway.) Belinda, in one of her finest team-player moments, also thought about filming the whole scene. (This is on a par with her decision that I would do all the driving in Italy.) In hindsight, I wish she had; it would have been hilarious.

All the while, we have been on sloping cobblestones. Stalling and rolling back have been constant threats (and realities). The razor sharp corners of the buildings almost have me in tears. (I am cast back 30 years or so, to my Driver’s Licence test, when my legs shook like jelly on the San Andreas fault, as I tried to complete my reverse parallel park.) My left hand mirror did clip a corner at one stage, but sustained no damage.

Eventually he gets me around the corner and we drive around a real corner and park in a bit more space. This is the light at the end of the tunnel. Belinda has the bright idea to call our host and get him to talk to the Messiah. Not sure how we will know what the outcome is…

It turns out that he knows our host. He motions us to stay put and our host will be here anon. All the while, I had been so focussed on the Peugeot and the pointy buildings, that I had almost forgotten that Hamish had been sitting in the back seat all the while. I asked if he was okay. “That was fun”, he said.

Thirty minutes later, we are guests at a wedding, tucking into a yummy lunch with carafes of well-deserved red wine, whilst admiring the amazing view.

Welcome to Campagna.