Nemoli
The clap
Sat on the loo in an extremely humid café toilet in San Marco, a huge striped mosquito started bzzzing around me, looking for an angle of attack.Thankfully, I managed to get the first punch in. I say punch; it was technically a clap. A clap is far better suited to destroying mosquitoes than a punch (although I won’t rule out throwing a punch if I’m particularly razzed off with one). This particular clap was probably the most impressive I’ve ever done. Totally clean, an absolute zinger. It echoed all round the toilet like a gunshot. The old woman sweeping the floor of the cafe must’ve thought that the place was under attack. Or she may have just assumed I was very briefly applauding my own toilet efforts. Either way it’s unnerving. Still, the mosquito was vanquished, and that’s all that mattered to me.
Having got around the humid mosquito-ridden toilet corner, we were soon blessed by the best motorhome stop of our entire trip. A little camper stop in a mountain town called Nemoli, a place I would strongly recommend anyone visit. It was situated 700 metres above sea level, surrounding a beautiful lake. A little fairy tale village with an obvious close-knit community, where even the bins are beautiful.
As soon as we parked up, we got the hammock out. We hadn’t had it out in quite a while as we don’t often have anything to attach the other end to. Tying it to an adjacent camper's side mirror always seems a bit rude. After getting the hammock up, we whacked a couple of euros in the nearby meter (which bought us 6 hours of electricity), flicked on all our gadgets and chillaxed/relilled.
We spent eleven days in Nemoli in total. Each day (well, most days) we went for a stroll around the lake, which was filled with large fish, small turtles and medium-sized lily pads, or visited the local café for a coffee and the best croissants we’ve ever eaten. The whole place was like a little nirvana, detached from the rest of the world. The climate was much cooler, being higher up, and there weren’t even any mosquitoes to 'applaud'.
One afternoon, while walking, we heard an ice cream truck pootling around the lake, playing an ice cream classic. As it got closer and floated past us, we saw that it wasn’t an ice cream truck at all; it was a fish truck. A little delivery van dropping fresh fish off at people’s homes, playing little tunes as it went. It summed the place up.
The houses were amazing too. Colourful and huge, with enormous balconies and pretty gardens. Not that they needed gardens. The lake provided the best view you could possibly ask for, reflecting the blue skies and cotton clouds above.
Nemoli
One of my favourite things about life is the anticipation that there is always something great just around the corner. Maybe not the next corner, the next corner could be horrendous, but get around that and something pretty good is usually coming, some corner soon.Having got around the humid mosquito-ridden toilet corner, we were soon blessed by the best motorhome stop of our entire trip. A little camper stop in a mountain town called Nemoli, a place I would strongly recommend anyone visit. It was situated 700 metres above sea level, surrounding a beautiful lake. A little fairy tale village with an obvious close-knit community, where even the bins are beautiful.
As soon as we parked up, we got the hammock out. We hadn’t had it out in quite a while as we don’t often have anything to attach the other end to. Tying it to an adjacent camper's side mirror always seems a bit rude. After getting the hammock up, we whacked a couple of euros in the nearby meter (which bought us 6 hours of electricity), flicked on all our gadgets and chillaxed/relilled.
We spent eleven days in Nemoli in total. Each day (well, most days) we went for a stroll around the lake, which was filled with large fish, small turtles and medium-sized lily pads, or visited the local café for a coffee and the best croissants we’ve ever eaten. The whole place was like a little nirvana, detached from the rest of the world. The climate was much cooler, being higher up, and there weren’t even any mosquitoes to 'applaud'.
One afternoon, while walking, we heard an ice cream truck pootling around the lake, playing an ice cream classic. As it got closer and floated past us, we saw that it wasn’t an ice cream truck at all; it was a fish truck. A little delivery van dropping fresh fish off at people’s homes, playing little tunes as it went. It summed the place up.
The houses were amazing too. Colourful and huge, with enormous balconies and pretty gardens. Not that they needed gardens. The lake provided the best view you could possibly ask for, reflecting the blue skies and cotton clouds above.
The wildlife was incredible. I’ve already mentioned the lake stuff, but there was loads of air stuff (dragonflies, butterflies, birds) and land stuff (lizards, cats) as well. Even the ants appeared classier than usual.
Also, no litter! This was a very welcome feature for us, having experienced how garbage-strewn so many places are in Italy. This place was immaculate. Perfect in every way.
Also, no litter! This was a very welcome feature for us, having experienced how garbage-strewn so many places are in Italy. This place was immaculate. Perfect in every way.
Drawbacks
I say perfect… there were some minor drawbacks to our time there. For one, we had Italy’s answer to the Shameless family parked up next to us for half our stay. The noisiest bastards ever. Also, a few campers down was a family who would let their dog sit there barking its arse off for hours on end. They just leashed him to a post and left him to it. One evening, after it’d been barking non-stop for about an hour, we assumed they’d left it there and gone off somewhere, so Rach went over to give it a bowl of water - it was a warm evening.When she reached the dog she saw that they weren’t away at all. They were all happily sat round, chatting. As Rach put the water down for the panting, wheezing dog, one of the women looked up and grazie’d her. Rach tried to question why they were neglecting the animal when it was clearly in distress, but they acted like they had no clue what she was saying.
The next evening, while the dog was again trying to bark itself inside out, I noticed two of the men walking off into the village. I went outside and called them over. They casually strolled back, at which point I bulldozed the language barrier, making it abundantly clear that they needed to go back to their area and see to the dog. During the dressing down I felt myself channeling my dad’s spirit. He used to spend summer days in the garden shouting "shut up" at the consta-barking dog a few doors down. He got rid of the garden in the end.
Another problem in Nemoli was that I’d developed a blocked ear, presumably from too much recent fannying around in the sea (and a probable wax build up). Every morning I was waking up with a completely muffled ear. Tugging my left lobe made it pop, and partially rectified the issue, but never fully. Thankfully it was only the left ear. I’d have to keep an eye on it. Not literally, of course, that would make me look a bit odd.
The next evening, while the dog was again trying to bark itself inside out, I noticed two of the men walking off into the village. I went outside and called them over. They casually strolled back, at which point I bulldozed the language barrier, making it abundantly clear that they needed to go back to their area and see to the dog. During the dressing down I felt myself channeling my dad’s spirit. He used to spend summer days in the garden shouting "shut up" at the consta-barking dog a few doors down. He got rid of the garden in the end.
Another problem in Nemoli was that I’d developed a blocked ear, presumably from too much recent fannying around in the sea (and a probable wax build up). Every morning I was waking up with a completely muffled ear. Tugging my left lobe made it pop, and partially rectified the issue, but never fully. Thankfully it was only the left ear. I’d have to keep an eye on it. Not literally, of course, that would make me look a bit odd.
Where are the...?
One final thing I want to address (while I’m in the zone) is Rach’s habit of constantly relocating items on the van. Nothing is ever where it was last. For example, the baby wipes: all of a sudden they live in the third cupboard along, after spending a perfectly happy and sensible twelve months in the toilet cubicle. Why? What’s it all about?
I gave up trying to wash my armpits and went to lie in the hammock and watch the lizards and other ground stuff climbing the trees.
I gave up trying to wash my armpits and went to lie in the hammock and watch the lizards and other ground stuff climbing the trees.
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