I hate Garmin

When discussing satellite navigators it is realized that they are not god, and that you should not follow them religiously, one must also consult maps, guides and ask direction when lost. There are also times when sat nav’s should do what they are suppose to do, navigate. Our sat nav either being a special case, mentally handicap or just partially broken, has left us stranded more times than I can recall. We have begun to take pictures of when our sat nav takes us up abandoned roads, road blocks, dead ends, or into fields. I have discussed this with other groups that have different sat navs such as Tom Tom, and Ihave concluded that Garmin is Tom Toms mentally handicap cheaper brother, and is to be trusted about only as far as you could dropkick it, thus I hate garmin.

Apparently Italy does not have as many satellite connections as the rest of Europe, but it leads us astray constantly, recalculating every so often even if we are on strait roads and especially when we are in cities. Also rarely does it recognize one way streets which are a daily part of Italian driving. We should just hire an old Italian guy to sit in the front and he could most likely help us more. We feel it also takes us the least direct route possible, this is after playing with every function of the sat nav, to take it for us the best route via highways and direct routes. We have started having fun seeing how we can find the clearly smarter route, like stay on the highway instead of getting off the highway only to get right back on the same one 2km later after following a string of small dirt side roads next to the highway, frustrating. We have been lost in around every corner of Italy with the help of Garmin, we are not Italian drivers, we have adapted rather well in my opinion to tiny streets, no signs, one ways and a thousand roads with the same name, but all told we hate you Garmin, not enough to write an angry letter, but almost.

Cold Flat of Tricarico and small streets

Heading even further south into the toe we drove into the town of Tricarico, following our oh so wise sat navigator, who has tested my sanity on more than one occasion which I will discuss more about later in the entry, I Hate Garmin. We proceeded with our van which is a modest size in American terms, but is fat as all hell when it comes to small Italian streets. We found ourselves within feet, then inches, then centimeters as the street seemed to become narrower as we went on as if we were in some abstract painting. One Italian man offered to drive it down the road for us, we at this point politely declined without realizing we were entering a labyrinth of tiny streets. Within ten minutes Liz was out in front of the car directing us slowly on like an air traffic controller, Emily was screaming profanity at the sat nav, and I had my head hanging out the side window making sure we didn’t scratch all along the walls, all the while a line of smart cars and midget trucks gathered behind us honking their horns. That always makes it better when it is clear we are having a hard time and they decide to lay on the horn as if that will magically help, thanks Italian drivers.

With the help of our whole team, and a few old Italian gentlemen we managed through the tight streets in about 45 minutes to a place where our flat was not even located. We called the teacher of the School in the town we would be working with and she called the flat we would be staying in, and around a hour and a half after arriving in the small hill town where we were staying. The old Italian women, not speaking any English ushered us into a massive, cold flat, that was once a rich villa, but has may have lost a bit of care over the past 400 hears. With all the windows closed, the three radiators blazing we were freezing, and all huddled around an extra electric heat, to top it off the water was nice and cold, sweet. I must say though that it is places like these that make you enjoy the super nice accommodations. Luckily the teacher of the town Mimi was a very sweet lady. Her and her husband treated us to a great dinner at their friend’s restaurant, drank some wine and talked English, as they both were English teachers that had studied in England. They were so eager to speak English as I don’t think they get a good English conversation that often. Thank god for wonderful Italian folk, they make a cold flat and a cold shower not quite so bad.

Rosa and Rosa With a side of Liborio and day in the Passion of the Christ

When our group returned to Three, we came across some of the most wonderful teachers we could dream off, their names were Rosa and Rosa, these teachers not only spoke fluent English which is surprisingly rare for English teachers in Italy, but were the sweetest ladies. They pulled out the red carpet for us, taking us to a local restaurant for two days worth of amazing lunches with wine to boot. After the two days we spent at their schools which were semi difficult days, (a lot of kids and a lot of shows), they took us on a hike of the local gorge with their family. This massive nature reserve was gorgeous with caves and a breathtaking view, and then invited us out to dinner with their families. They took us to a specialized restaurant where we got a chance to sample the different meats that the area is known for cooking, and we were fed course after course of beef, pork, sausage grilled to perfection and topped with appetizers and homemade wine. During diner me and Mario, one of the Rosa’s husbands, was a smart character, interested in Politics and as the wine flowed we discussed Communism in broken English with Rosa translating. After this amazing meal we attempted to pay for our part and they were almost offended we even considered such a thing. At this point we had begun discussing ways of never leaving, buying a house down the road from either Rosa, and spend our lives with their wonderful families becoming fat Italians. Leaving was like we were leaving our own Italian family, and they gave us there contact information, cookies for the road and told us if we are ever anywhere in southern Italy to call them and we have a place to stay, done and done.

Near by the city of Bari in the Southern heel was the town of Matera, which we found out about on a sugar packet in a bar. It is the oldest town in Europe and the third oldest in the world, and a hill of thousand year old cave homes, winding roads and medieval and stone churches, surrounded by even more beautiful rolling mountains, and it is where Mel Gibson filmed passion of the Christ. I spacked out a bit from to much beauty as we drove into the town were cavemen had once lived. Then an English speaking guide by the name of Liborio came and knocked on the window, offering us a tour for 50 euro’s for the three of us. We talked him down to 30 euro’s and he then proceeded to take us on a 5 hour tour of the entire town, exploring cave church’s and homes. It turns out Liborio was born in the town lived his whole life there and was a historian of the town. He showed us the cave home where his grandfather was born and all the secrets of the town, and then took us to one of his friends restaurant in town for dinner. Liborio taught us the fine rules of Scupa, the Neapolitan card game, which we had attempted to learn the morning before from some old Italian gentlemen who spoke no English. All and All I love Rosa and Rosa, Liborio is the man and I want to refurnish a cave and live in Matera.