Our Adventure Begins………The Isle of Man TT Races……….Part One
Thank you for such beautiful memories and wonderful experiences.
But alas, I cannot thank you for the lack of sleep which we have endured over the past five nights.
Yes the room was clean.
Yes the room was basic.
Yes the room was very central to all of your beautful historical buildings, wonderful architecture and amazing food.
But, the concept of rest and slumber are not part of your vocabulary.
Your tiny one-way cobble stone street below, littered with scooters and pedestrians, all juggling for their right to that particular section of the path/road magnified all sounds creating a cruscendo of noise bombarding our room day and night.
No end to the continuous noise.
Manners and consideration all ‘swear words’ never to be used or mentioned.
Your restaurants and pubs below us which remained open till the very early hours of the morning, encouraging your very expressive patrons their opportunity to be more rambunctious, excitable, dramatic and expressive as the night wears and the alcohol is consumed, unaware dawn approaches.
But we loved every minute of this experience.
We ate, walked, scourered the streets being totally lost but somehow knowing where we were going.
Stumbling into beautiful Churches, restaurants, shops and arcades finding new and exciting things to see and experience.
On our last day, we were up early to catch the train back to Rome Termini.
I know you are wondering why we did’nt just fly from the Florence Airport.
We had a moment of confusion during the prepararion and purchasing of the tickets and someone (who shall remain nameless), assumed that as we flew into Rome we would fly out of Rome-some two hours away via the Fast Train which reached speeds of 248km/hr.
So off we set, bags bulging, new case rattling and straining with the weight of the contents and being dragged along the uneven footpaths.
The air was brisk, people calling out salutations, stalls being opened and the city stirring to life as we headed off to the station.
We loaded our cases, helmets, pannier bag, trolley and motorbike bag into the allotted luggage spaces, found our seats and prepared to farewell a beautiful city.
The trip was amazing as the beautiful Italian country-side flew past us in a blur. Occasionally we caught glimpses of derelict buildings and walls, factories and homes all in stark contrast with each other but somehow blending into create a beautiful landscape. Rich with contrasts, culture and history.
As we disembark from the train, gather our belongings and head up the passageway leading to the Airport, my heart starts to increase its beat as I realise we are only hours away from our Isle of Man TT adventure.
The flight was on Jet2, an english version of Jetstar.
With our bike helmets precariously sitting above us behind a mesh wall, our bottoms squashed into the spaces allotted to us, our knees resting on our chests, we took off.
I was sitting on the aisle, Pat sitting between a teenage-something male and myself. All was good.
So I thought.
Turbulance roughing us up. Are we going to make it to our destination in one piece? Doubts start to crowd my mind. Time to pick up my ebook and fill my mind with ‘happy thoughts’.
Usually I am calm and not fazed by air-travel.
But this flight was different. The air hostesses came down the aisle, handing out meals, a sandwich, drink and a packet of chips. Turbulance still stirring up my stomach. The hulking teenager opened his can of soda- a sickening swish sound as suddenly the hulking teenager sprang off his seat, soda spraying across the tray table, onto Pat and seeping under his left thigh to be soaked up by his jeans and tooshie. I had stock-piled servietttes from every cafe and restaurant we had entered. I am not too sure why I had done this, but at this point in time I was very relieved I could pass them to the teenager and Pat to soak up as much soda as they could.
Crisis dealt with, as best as we can.
We settle back down to complete the 3hrs and 5min travel as comfortably as we can.
The turbulance is getting very noticeable, I am finding it rather difficult to hold my ebook still to read it.
I glanced over at Pat-wait..what!! He is snoozing??
You have got to be kidding!
After finally touching down, my stomach left somewhere around the 1500 kilometer mark, I needed to feel solid earth under my boots.
As I gazed out of the window I can see rain drops slithering down the window, distorting the image of Manchester’s airport.
In my mind I knew that a very special and dear friend awaited us, somewhere in the labarynth of this airport. So a bit of rain was not going to dampen my excitement.
As we snaked our way along the path to Immigration and Security, both of us were itching to get through the formalities so we could find our friend.
Cases caught from the conveyor belt, bags pulled onto tired shoulders, bike helmets gripped in anxious hands we exited under the bold sign and gazed at the smiling faces lined up behind the fence, all eager to see their loved ones.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar shape bounding up towards us.
Oh my- it is The Organiser.
A huge smile filling his face.
Nothing has changed. I have been transported back to the petrol station last year, sitting on a stool creating puddles underneath our feet as we waited for an introduction to an awesome adventure. When we first met this wonderful character.
We have arrived and are now in familiar territory. Posted from WordPress for Android