I got to Brindisi in the early afternoon and, as per norm, had no clue where the ferry dock was, when the ferries left, or where they left to. Luckily, road signs pointed me in the right direction and before long I was talking to a baffled ticket agent. It seems that most people know where they want to go and when, so someone coming up and asking for the first ferry across the Adriatic Sea without caring where or when they are dropped off kind of throws them. I’m sure the language barrier didn’t help since the poor guy kept on trying to give me options until I just asked for a ticket for the first stop on the next ferry. Turns out I was leaving at 7pm and arriving in Igoumenitsa at 2am.
Brindisi was an interesting place to spend an afternoon, though the old town roads didn’t get along well with my tires. Wet, age polished marble and rubber is the new oil and water. Trust me on this one, though I’m sure one or two of the locals thought I was showing off as I fishtailed around a square in a desperate attempt not to drop the bike. Oh, and one more caution- the wall along the tourist dock is a road, but the people fishing from it throw their used hooks on it (no, I can’t imagine there is any ulterior motive to this). My tires didn’t pick up any, but considering how many had been washed up in piles by the rain, I think it may be a bit more of an issue in dry weather.
Back to the ferry and waiting to load while watching night come down on the city.
The ferry ride was pretty much standard, though proper coffee was replaced with Nescafe- a sin that has become so common since then that I’ve switch to tea.
So, the black. Arriving in Greece was a non-event. I was the first one-off and just went puttering around until I found an open gate and left. I don’t know if I missed something, but I just ended up on the side of a harbour road at 2:30am, in the rain, trying to decide what to do. There was a lot of new road construction, but a detour sign seemed to point to town and hopefully a hotel, so off I went. Off I went into nowhere. My GPS didn’t show a road, there were no houses, signs, street lights- nothing. It was just me, the increasingly torrential rain, and a pitch black road- beyond the reach of my headlights there was perfect black. I thought of turning around, but why? I didn’t have to be anywhere, go anywhere- this was the ultimate minimalist expression of my trip! There was nothing beyond the road, the bike, and me. No scenery, no destination- the middle cut of the ride.
It was creepy as hell.