From a country with one of the shortest coastlines in Europe in Slovenia to another with one of the longest; that’s if you’re including its seven hundred and eighteen islands, three hundred and eighty-nine islets (whatever they are), and seventy-eight reefs and why on earth wouldn’t you?
Given the time of year we have chosen to travel and the pace with which we move from place to place, we don’t often get the chance to uncover the often unusual or inspiring stories of fellow travellers but in the small Slovene village of Kozina, about eighty kilometres southwest of Ljubljana, we bumped into a very interesting couple indeed.
Almost the instant we crossed the Italian-Slovenian border at Rateče, in the far north of both nations, the weather, architecture, and horned grazing cattle took a distinctly alpine turn as a scene from The Sound of Music opened dramatically in front of us.
Following an introductory peep around the striking streets of the Sammarinese capital the previous afternoon, we were up with the first cable car the following morn, sashaying our way to the top of Monte Titano for a full day of hedonistic exploration. We followed the ancient city’s winding lanes up to our first stop, the grandly named Basilica di San Marino.
Extremely old country, awful football team, perennially last in Eurovision, no not the United Kingdom but our next micronation: San Marino. Nestled in north-eastern Italy, ten kilometres west of the Italian coastal city of Rimini, San Marino can lay claim to having been an independent republic since Saint Marinus formed a monastic community there in 301 AD, thus making it the oldest sovereign state in the world as well as the oldest constitutional republic.
Following our Vatican visit and Rome roam, we re-joined Italy’s arterial motorway, the A1, in a south-easterly direction towards our last major Italian city of the tour: Naples. Informed to expect traffic chaos on levels only matched by Swindon’s Magic Roundabout, we decided to leave Vishnu well outside the city limits and use the decidedly ageing public transport system to get around.
You re-join us in the smallest, and quite possibly the most peculiar, nation on earth as we began to make the intrepid journey halfway across the entire country from Saint Peter's Square to the renowned Vatican Museums, a journey of a little over fifteen minutes by foot. You must keep your wits about you, however, as all manner of tourist traps and stubborn street sellers line the chaotic route, plying you with their wares.
When the country you’re visiting has the highest crime rate in the world but not a single prison cell or the shortest rail track but only one station you know you’re somewhere a little bit special.
Following a relatively relaxing week bathing in lakes and scraping on gates, our next involved far more hustle and bustle as we made our way to Italy’s second city in what were pretty miserable conditions. A bleak and gloomy Milan greeted us as we pulled into the only car park in the city guarded by a man in a hut, a very important requirement in this city, and withdrew our collapsible umbrellas from their holsters for the first time in earnest.
