After three straight days of partying in Amsterdam, this two travellers were desperate to rebuild our energy and money reservoirs before hitting the road hard again for our final thirty days of travel (boo hoo). After careful considerations, taking into account time and monies available, our tired brains decided to head from Rome to a small town in the center of Italy that is rumored that a small branch of my family tree still blossoms, Perugia.
Upon our arrival, we set out in search of our campsite based on the recommendations of a fez locals we had spoken to. We boarded a bus in the direction that all fingers pointed to and asked the bus driver who kindly agreed to let us know when e got to our stop, and then promptly forgot our agreement with us. But thanks to a kind man on the bus, we got off just in time, and were warmly greeted with this sign:
With the bus long gone and no other options available we set out on the 3 km to our campsite which, lucky us, turned out to be all up hill.
But praise to the gods of inaccuracy as we came across our campsite in no more than five hundred meters and our hearts soared and in no time we were stuffing our faces...or at least I was.
We spent the rest of our time in Perugia wandering the small hilltop city and taking in its views and gelati. It wad hard to deny the fact that my family, in part, had originated here as signs, buses, and even the local hospital all bore the name Silvestrini, my mother's mother's maiden name. According to me madre the branches of the family tree that lead from this small Italian city to me are young enough that if the research was done relatives could still be found.
After three days of rest, relaxation, and recuperation we left for Venice.
