Mon, 15 Sep 2003

author Tim	location Padova, Friuli-Venezia Giulia, Italia
posted 10:36 CEST 17/09/2003	section Europe2002/Europe/Italia ( all photos )

Padova, and more Rosie problems :( ( 3 photos )
We got up early to use an alternate means of travel to explore a new city, Padova (Padua), about 30km west of Venezia. The bus we had used to get to and from the caravan park helpfully keeps going all the way to Padova, so we jumped on that heading the opposite way, and had a slow old journey. The trade-off was that we didn't have to worry about parking or anything.
The main attraction of the city is the Capella degli Scrovegni, a chapel housing frescoes Giotto painted between 1303 and 1305. Unfortunately, the bus station had no information on where this was, so we wandered randomly in what turned out to be totally the wrong direction, asked a local University girl how to get back to the centre of town, and walked back past the bus station into town. How about signs for people getting off the bus with directions to the city's major tourist drawcard!!
Anyway, we found the place, paid our entrance fees and had to wait in a queue to get in. The environment inside is so controlled to prevent degredation of the frescoes that you have to sit in a climate-controlled anti-chamber for fifteen minutes for the air to stabilise before you are allowed in, and then only in groups of twenty-five.
It was worth all that rigmorole to see. Places like this I find interesting not at all from the religious perspective (the paintings document the life of Christ and Mary) but due to the technical abilities of the artist, so long ago. The three-dimensional aspect of the work on a two-dimensional surface was I thought the most striking detail, along with the grotesque rendering of hell on the massive end wall.
Overall it was amazing to see this place, but a little dis-heartening to think that the building is now a historical treasure, never used for its original intended purpose as a place of worship. I wonder how Giotto would have felt about that.
We were running late by the time we had been through there, so hot-footed it back to the bus, sat on it again for quite some time and checked out of the caravan park. Our drive was then back through Padova (not needing to stop and look around).
It was as we were driving through the city traffic in Padova that another van pulled along side us, the drive shouting "Fuma, Fuma!!" and pointing to the rear of Rosie. After a split-second just dismissing him as yet another crazy Italian driver, it occured to both of us that the smells we had just put down to city pollution were getting much stronger. A quick look in the rear-view mirror (engine in the back, remember) made it obvious that Rosie was doing her best Thomas the Tank Engine impression, billowing out vast quantities of steam and/or smoke.
We pulled over safely into what was luckily a loading zone on the side of the road, albeit right near a pedestrian crossing. As quick as we could manage, engine was off, battery disconnected and I was moving things around to get access to the engine bay while Liz got out our fire extinguisher - we were well prepared at least.
The white stuff gradually cleared, then we called our insurance to explain that yes, once again, we needed their help. Hours passed in the coffee shop which luckily was right next to us as we waited for a call or assistance. At some stage we attempted some do it yourself diagnosis, noting that the water resivoir was totally empty. Following the pipe, the next one (equivalent of a radiator in this vehicle, I think) was also completely empty.
After waiting for it to cool, we filled both up with some water, only to see it all run out the bottom of the engine bay onto the road! So, there was our major problem. Nothing we could do except wait for a tow.
One did eventually turn up, a nice enough Italian guy who didn't speak any English. As he was attempting to speak Italian to me to work out whether the van was drivable up onto the back of his truck or not, he struck upon an idea. "Finito?", he asked, pointing at the van. "Si", I replied. We pushed her along a few times until she was on the lift at the rear of his truck, then we were away.
Liz and I sat up in the cabin of his truck, getting a tour of Padova's outer areas as he took us first to the arranged Volkswagen mechanic, which it turned out only worked on newer, smaller and possibly far less problematic Volkwagens, not big, old error-prone ones like us. Maybe they were just scared of a challenge!
So, we were towed in the direction of another one, getting stuck in major traffic on the way out of town. He made some calls in rapid Italian, the gist of which we worked out meant that all the garages were closed by now (it was quite late), so what did we want to do? Here the Caravan Club insurance excelled themselves, having an Italian-speaking operator John on hand to help out. He translated for us, the result of which was that our driver was taking Rosie to be locked up somewhere for the night, and us to Padova train station to sort out some accommodation for the night.
We packed a few things into some bags to do us while we were away from the van (it is becoming a more regular occurrance than we had wished for, but staying in a posh hotel every now and then is a nice break). We got to the tourist information just as it was closing for the night and grabbed a city map and a list of hotels. Picking a few in our price-range, we headed off in search of them.
Down the main drag Corso del Popolo, we stumbled upon Hotel Corso pretty much as the first one along the road. We headed in, found their rooms were available and priced right for the insurance to cover it. The room turned out to be just fine, overlooking the river and town walls. The main draw-back is that it is very noisy, but that's the problem with being central I guess.
Wandering into the city for a Lonely Planet recommended dinner at Trattoria al Pero, we ate in style the Italian way, which is a first course of pasta then a main course of meat. They usually add in a few more courses, but our stomachs were full just as our budget was too.
Back to the hotel, we reflected on our broken bus yet again, but at least in a city with transport to the world and insurance sorting everything out for us.

As a couple of asides, some guy jumped off the bell tower to his death in the middle of San Marco Piazza in Venezia the day after we were there as the clock struck midday. Also, late at night in the caravan park there we felt Rosie shake for a while. I thought it was Liz rolling around and she thought it was me. We both agreed it was neither of us, and we read in the Herald Tribune (English-language paper you can get around the place if you are willing to pay through the teeth) yesterday that it was indeed a magnitude-five earthquake, centred further south from here in Bolognia. Nobody hurt, but interesting all the same. We survived an earthquake!

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