I spent a lazy day in Vicenza, sitting for almost four hours in the central square, watching Italians.
They’re a funny bunch, these Italians. Wonderfully friendly, and oh so stylish.
They wear well cut clothing, and ride classy, often single-speed city bikes. I felt out of place in my dirty, damaged travel clothes.
The city itself is a very pretty city with quiet cobbled streets and the same narrow alleys that I have become accustomed to here in the old Italian cities.
Towards the end of the day, I was sick of watching. So I got on my bike and cycled west towards Verona. I knew I wouldn’t make it (I left at about 5pm), but I needed to be on the bike.
I cycled on into the night, something I rarely do. A flashing light at the back, and my puny LED headlight on the front of the bike. It wasn’t until around 10pm that I stopped for the night. Towards the side of a seculded road I spied a quiet tunnelhouse with some farm machinery in it. It was obviously private property, but there were no fences. I figured if I was found sleeping there in the morning that the owners would understand my plight.
Poor lost New Zealand cycle-adventurer needed a dry place to lay his head…