Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson Bicycle touring journals
March 26 Sunday Bicycle touring Italy from Perugia Italy to Gubbio Italy
Yesterday, two stoned guys wanted to buy my Canadian flag from me. I told them I still needed it -- my standard reply when I don't want to do something.A few minutes later, we noticed police had them in an alley and were frisking them and making them empty their pockets. I thought it was interesting that the police didn't do it right out in the open, so as to not scare the tourists or create an attraction, I suppose.
But police are usually highly visible at all times, either driving around or stopped and watching everything.
In Bolsena, two cops came out of a coffee shop. One was carrying a machine gun. Come on, I thought -- can the coffee really be that bad? Or maybe the price being charged was criminal? The old guy we were talking to at the time, or rather who was talking at us, even though, at first, we had repeatedly said, 'No capito,' said the police carried machine guns because they didn't know which of them was Mafia.
While I was buying groceries (I still can't believe how long it takes to buy a couple of simple items each day), Sharon met a girl from Switzerland who was attending the University in Perugia, one of the oldest universities in Europe.
She told us that her brother is cycling from San Francisco to Patagonia right now for a year and a half. She says he says the people are great. His mom is worried. Another one of those universal truisms.
Last night we camped at the top of a farmer's field. The dirt and sharp rocks looked as if it would not be passable to cars. Saw more hookers standing by the side of the road -- mainly black women.
Cycled into Gubbio around 11:30 AM. Some welcome was waiting for us! We had just pulled our touring bicycles to a stop in the town centre plaza when a little boy came over. He said something to the furry bear mascot that Sharon has strapped on top of her rear pannier, scratched its head, then leaned over and kissed it, all the while his mother was admonishing him not to touch anything. I think our bicycle tour has just been blessed.
We left our bikes anchored to a cement bench and went off to explore. Most people walking around Gubbio look more like culture seekers, rather than bike thieves.
Mass had just ended and the churches were open. Saw some amazing huge paintings in the humongous churches.
Here's a cool thing. In one church they grotesquely displayed the remains of past religious figures inside glass-encased coffins. One guy didn't look any too pleased about it. It looks like they had dug him up. He had a discoloured gnarled face with a tortuously gaping open mouth. Sharon said, "That one looks like you when you have to take a leak." So that's what I look like when I have to make an emergency stop and can't find any place. Always wondered. Anyway, it was disgusting.
Twelve modern day apostles were watching over the brethren -- video cameras mounted on each side of the church.
We met two South Koreans who are priests. They are studying the scriptures in Rome for the next eight years. They said cycling is good in south South Korea.
We're camped on a hillside overlooking a small lumber yard with a barking dog. Our tiny bicycle touring tent is pitched at a steeper angle than usual. Sharon figures we may become human bobsleds during the night. I should be okay as long as I Velcro my butt to our thermal camprest.
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