When we left for Arenzano, Italy, we had no idea what a spectacular ride was awaiting us. To understand this you need to know that the French Riviera, while it has beautiful beaches that go on for miles and miles, is flat and backed by foothills. In Italy, however, the mountains come right down to the sea. When we disappeared into our first tunnel on the motorway we were not prepared for what we saw upon our exit. It was one of those “Wow” moments. We exited the tunnel onto a very high bridge over a valley between two mountains. On our right we could see a city or town along the sea and on our left we could see small villages scattered on the mountainsides. We went through 65(!) tunnels that ended in bridges over valleys, each one offering a variety of incredible views of towns and the sea by the time we reached Arenzano. I have to say this was the most beautiful ride I have ever taken. I took many pictures--all of which have a piece of guard rail (for which we were very grateful) in them. But after a while I just gave up and enjoyed the views.
(Note from David: for the driver’s rather different perspective on all this, see the introduction to the pictures for this entry.)
We drove straight to the campground in Arenzano and got the last spot big enough for Rover, and even then our (or her) back end hung into the next site. This is a very old, well worn place with mostly permanent trailers that are here all year long. It is between a busy road and a railroad line--right on the beach. And the motorway is about 200 yards across the street and 200 feet above us. We have what they say is 3 amp service, but we tripped one circuit breaker just trying to run the refrigerator so we put that on LP gas and are using the electricity just for lights and the water pump. Fortunately we do not need the air conditioning. It has been a bright sunny 80 during the day and cools off nicely at night. And the bike race goes right past the campground.
Arenzano is a newer town. The main walking plaza on the beach is named after John F Kennedy, the finish for the race is at the Place Etati Uniti (US), and many of the buildings look relatively new. On Tuesday we walked into town (an easy 20 minute walk along the sea--and through one tunnel--to watch the preparations for the race and discovered there were practically none. There were only signs that said that all the toilets in bars and restaurants would be available to the public on Wednesday, the race day (always good information to have). On Wednesday we walked into town again to find it transformed by the Giro set up team. There were banners, barricades and roads closed everywhere, accompanied by every available policeman and woman and lots of other official looking people. We walked all over and discovered that no one had claimed the prime spot at the finish line. We hadn’t intended to do this, but we decided we’d just be sitting somewhere else for five hours, so we claimed our spot. There was No One closer to the Stage 11 finish line than we were!
There was an older Italian man who thought it was great that an American couple cared enough to wait near him. He called David “Armstrong” because David was wearing his “Lance” t-shirt. “Hey, Armstrong, (Italian) blah blah blah.” This was translated by another young couple: ”Do you like Italians?” Now how are you going to answer that in Italy! And ”Hey, Armstrong, (Italian) blah blah blah” (“Do you like bike racing?”) “Si, I like bike racing,” so he shook David’s hand. It was great fun. It was fairly easy to claim our four square feet for the first three hours, reading the paper and eating our lunch. But it got a little crowded and pushy later. We waited in the hot sun and occasional blessed shade from the finish line banner for five hours. The race is preceded by a sponsor’s parade where the sponsors throw worthless junk like hats, balloons and keychains to the crowd. At the finish line there is a real effort to get everyone wearing a sponsor’s hat or holding something for the tv cameras. Twice someone put a hat over my Twins hat, but I just passed it back to the eager crown behind us. In a “gruppo compacto” sprinter’s finish like this one, the actual race goes by in about 5 seconds. Then there were a few stragglers, after which the workers start to pick it all up and move it on to the next stage site. It is quite an operation and quite an unusual way to spend a day. And it attracts thousands.
We had considered moving further into Italy to go to the Cinque Terra until we learned that that was the site of the next day’s race. We definitely didn’t want to drive into that mayhem along with everyone else. But because it was going to be a time trial, we decided to stay put for one more day and watch it on tv in the campground restaurant. We are getting pretty good at lounging around on the coast (and spending a minimal amount of money).