Avellino, the main town of this Provence and an hour and a half’s drive over some of the most spectacularly high bridges we’ve ever been on. Down valleys with ridiculously perched villages high on every second mountain (or so it seems).
Avellino is between Calitri and Napoli and is a reasonable sized city of just over 50,000 and has a large pedestrian only centre. This meant that after securing a street park and dropping breadcrumbs behind us, we could have a decent walk right up through the centre of the town. As it happened, we parked near a symbol of the city, a baroque clock tower, which was helpful as a very large breadcrumb when we needed to find our Panda again.
Avellino seems like a well to do town, the people in the street looked well dressed and… well, let’s face it, put on a big black coat and some cool sunglasses and you’re looking pretty good. (There were a number of men who looked a bit like Bond villains, but they’re rich too, eh?) Pip was lured into a sock and tights shop, of the type that there are hundreds of in Italy but very few of at home and was quickly attracted to a ‘buy 5 pairs and pay for 4’ offer. Me? Not so taken with the socks, but I’m sufficiently amazed by the concept.
Found a gorgeous grocery shop called Latticini from where we purchased some lemon pasta, eggs and a tiny bottle of mandarin yoghurt. Could have bought more stuff than we either eat or carry, but we are the souls of restraint.
So with socks and pasta, we headed back to find the car with only a slight sidetrack into cafe where I thought I ordered lemonade, only to have the juice of 5 squeezed lemons and a sugar bowl delivered to the table – even though whistling was out of the question for the next hour or so, I do like lemon juice and it’s got to be healthy, right?
Zoomed home to arrive right on dusk (phew!) and booked to hit the town’s German beer house for dinner. Double Jack’s Gasthaus sits on the northern edge of town in a double story, pink place. It’s all woody and cosy German inside with many biers and sausages on the menu. It also has pizza on the menu, and chips, and for Monday night, things were rockin’ by about 9pm. Double Jack is actually Mario and he and a young girl serve (or try to) the whole place, consequently, it’s a bit of a shemozzle. It’s good pub food, but they’re so run-off their feet they can’t clear or be distracted by such frippery as wanting an extra drink or the dessert menu. Still we had fun watching the locals down pizza by the cubic meter.