The Yurt – May 29, 2023
Jun 6th, 2023 by rallyadmin
Leave the toll station and drive a few feet to the small roundabout with thee roads entering where only one should. Somehow this works with everyone showing some politeness and courtesy. Start heading for the toll station again but veer off to the right to miss the entry to the autostrada and head up a very windy, steep and narrow road.
Five switchbacks later and two near head-on collisions and we see the owner of the yurt standing in the road waving us to the left side of the narrow road to park. She and her young daughter are waiting for us to check in so that they can leave for a birthday dinner. It’s the owner’s birthday.
We park the car, (“Don’t worry. It’s very safe here. I don’t even bother to lock my car.”) and take out a few things from our luggage for the night. She has warned us that it’s a bit of a hike up to the property and she warns us that we might not want to drag everything up the path to the house and the yurt. “The car and your stuff will be safe here.”
She’s not kidding about the hike. The path to the house takes about 10 minutes and it has three serious climbs along the way. She certainly was right about dragging the bags up here. We arrive at the gate to the property that the house is on and see our first view of the house.
It’s about 75 years old and she bought from the original owner 3 years ago. She’s a single mom and she’s from Milan. But the rat race of the big city has driven to this mountain side olive orchard. The view down the mountain side to the city of Rapallo and the sea below make it clear why she’s here.
We walk up to the house, a big traditional stone structure and she let’s out one of 3 vizslas (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vizsla), the one that has just dropped a litter of pups. The pups are 20 days old and they’re pretty happy to nurse, sleep and cuddle with anyone that will hold them. The young mother, though, is looking for a break from the puppies and she’s bounding up on any of us for some attention. Apparently, raising puppies is hard, lonely work.
While all this commotion is going on, her semi-domesticated cat arrives to check out what’s going on. And one of the 2 resident donkeys starts braying to geet in on the action. We move on past the house up the stairs to the back of the main house where she shows us the outside bath for the yurt which is about 50 meters from the yurt itself. This will be interesting duing a late night bio-break.
WE walk along another narrow path that overlooks the donkey pen and there’s the yurt. It’s cute in a rustic way and as the owner starts explaining the details of the yurt, I really start looking forward to our first “glamping” night. She finishes telling us the does and don’ts, not many of each, and then leaves for her birthday dinner.
We get settled in and then head back down to the car ourselves for a trip don to the beach promenade for some dinner. The hike back down to the car makes us sure that we will either remember what we want at the yurt or do without. There will not be any running back to the car for a forgotten toothbrush.
Down to the promenade. We find our way to the beach easily and, very surprisingly, we find a parking spot straightaway. We are maybe half an hour early for the beginning of the traditonal Italian dinner time so the area isn’t really crowded yet. Hence, the available paking spot.
That’s the good news. The bad news is that the parking spot is designed for Fiat 500s and Smart 42s, not American sedans. And I don’t remember the last time I parallel parked any car. We’re driving a Fiat 500L which is a larger Fiat 500 but it’s still only half the size of my daily driver and probably just about the same size as B’s Honda Fit.
Suffice to say that I entertain the locals trying the juggle the half pint car into the pint-sized parking spot. (“Don’t try this at home. I used to be a professional driving instructor.”) Then the battle with the automated parking ticket machine until the machine decides to magnanimously give us a ticket for some unknown period of time. I put the machine receipt on the dash of the car, half resigned to seeing it towed for some unknown to me offense. F*%K it! I need some dinner.
wWe walk up and don the promenade for a while looking for a place to buy tickets for a boat ride in the morning to Portofino and San Frattuosco. We find it pretty much where we parked the car. The ticket window is closed but we see the schedule which runs every hour so it’s off to find a restaurant for dinner.
We check out a few restaurants and end up at one near where we parked the car. One of the waiter is quite charming and gives a nice table towards the back of the umbella covered outside area. We order drinks and some pasta. When the drinks come, the waiter apologizes and says that he only has Bushmill when I asked and said they had Jameson. No problem. It’s been a day. I’ll take grain alcohol. Neat.
The dinner turns out to be pretty good and on the way back to the car I stop in a wine shop to buy a bottle for the yurt. The shop keeper asks what I want and I tell him that I want a bottle of Montepulchiano. He then asks that since there 2 types of Montepulchiano, which do I want? I tell him that I was looking for a good d‘Abruzzo. (That was a trick question: there is vino nobili and d’Abruzzo, made with different grapes and from different parts of Italy. He was sizing me up.)
He picks out a bottle and says that though this isn’t the most expensive d’Abruzzo that the shop has, it is definitely the best that the shop has. He wraps the bottle in tissue paper and then puts it in a bag and when I pay he asks how long we will be in Rapallo. “If you are here tomorrow come in and tell me how I liked the wine.” I will. Back to the car (not towed) and back to the yurt.
It’s just getting dark as we make our way back up the hill to park the car and get a couple of items that we forgot on our earlier hike up the hill. Back up the path to the gate and being greeted by the mom vizsla, still avoiding her pups. One last once over by the two donkeys, a 24 year old mother and her 19 year old daughter.
Into the yurt and done for the night.
Obi-wan