2nd May 2024

We had planned to visit Joan and Phil in Italy last year, but the vagaries of the NHS appointment system meant it never happened. So it was with great anticipation that our long-delayed visit to Santa Vittoria finally began on the 2nd of May. A 2 a.m. drive to Stansted Airport added a bit of tension, especially with an unexpected closure on the A14 for overnight roadworks, which added another 15 minutes to the journey. Fortunately, a bus was waiting to whisk us from JetParks to the terminal, easing the stress somewhat, and as a bonus, Security was trialling their new scanners, so we didn’t need to remove anything from our bags or cases.

With a couple of hours to wait for our Ryanair flight to Ancona, we picked up the essential ‘Meal Deal’ from Boots to eat on the plane and passed the time people-watching until our Priority Boarding tickets allowed us to be among the first to climb the steps to the aircraft. Shockingly, while we waited at the gate, one of the airport staff announced that the flight was overbooked and asked for a volunteer to give up their seat. A compensation package of £250, a hotel stay, and a flight the following day was offered. In the end, a gentleman travelling to Perugia volunteered. I had thought the days of passengers being bumped off flights were behind us, naughty Ryanair!

After scoffing our snacks, we dozed for most of the flight. With over fifty years of flying experience, I can truthfully say the landing in Ancona was the worst I’ve ever experienced. We slammed onto the runway with such force, veering wildly as the engines screamed in protest, that for a few terrifying seconds, it felt like we might end up making a panic exit via the emergency chutes rather than descending the usual gantry steps.

Thankfully, immigration was swift, and collecting our hire car, a Lancia from ‘Sicily by Car’, went smoothly enough, despite a rather surly attendant and the need to locate the vehicle at the top of a multi-storey car park. A short ten-minute drive took us to our accommodation, the Hotel Touring. As we pulled in, the heavens opened. Fortunately, although we were early, our room was ready.

The plan had been to explore the local area of Falconara Marittima on foot and start soaking up the Italian sunshine and atmosphere. Instead, we spent three hours holed up in our room, watching a dramatic thunderstorm sweep across the town from the relative comfort of our balcony.

By half past three, the storm had drifted out to sea, replaced by thin clouds and the occasional glimpse of sun, so we ventured outside. The hotel is set halfway up a steep hill that leads down to the busy coastal road and railway line. Once at the bottom, we turned right and walked for about a mile to stretch our legs before retracing our steps. We then crossed the road and railway via a pedestrian tunnel to reach the beach, which had until then remained hidden from view.

Although out of season for holidaymakers in search of sun, sea, and sand, there was plenty of evidence that preparations were well underway. A continuous line of bars, cafés, restaurants, and amusements was being readied with urgency. The wide, sweeping beach had been cleared of debris, with little piles of rubbish left here and there for collection. A few workers could be seen making preparations inside the bars, no doubt hopeful for a busy summer ahead. The beach itself was almost deserted, save for a solitary jogger, and we had it virtually to ourselves as we strolled its full length. It’s an ideal beach for families: soft sand, a gently shelving shore, ample places to eat and drink, and plenty of amusements for when the children tire of the water.

Back at the hotel, we grabbed an hour of much-needed sleep before heading to the hotel’s pizza restaurant for dinner. We both opted for our first pizzas of the trip, and were not disappointed. In the past, I’ve had little luck with pizza in the land of pizza; they’ve often arrived overcooked or lacking in flavour. But this one was superb, arguably the best I’ve ever had. A very pleasant surprise.

Later, back in our room, we watched a Netflix documentary on Neanderthals on my laptop before drifting off to sleep.

3rd May 2024

After a buffet breakfast at the hotel, during which we discreetly squirrelled away a couple of rolls for later, we set off at 10 a.m. for a visit to a grotto located in the sea cliffs on the outskirts of Ancona, as recommended by the receptionist.

Driving in Italy is not for the faint-hearted. Most Italians appear to believe they’re in a perpetual race, tailgating relentlessly. When using a SatNav on unfamiliar roads, especially with faded or entirely absent signage, you quickly learn that any navigational error must be seen through. There’s simply no opportunity to brake sharply or veer suddenly to make a correction. As a result, we found ourselves needing to execute a few ‘U-turns’ further along the route to get back on track.

Despite the challenges, we navigated Ancona’s antiquated and labyrinthine one-way system and made it to our destination, only to find that parking anywhere near the caves was impossible. Clearly, we weren’t the only ones enticed by the idea of a coastal grotto that morning. Somewhat reluctantly, we reset the SatNav and headed for our next accommodation in Porto Potenza Picena.

We followed the scenic coastal road, deliberately avoiding the faster toll route, and eventually came across a parking spot at a viewpoint. Tempted by the sight of a small bay far below, we decided to risk the near-vertical cliff path that twisted its way down. The descent was a treacherously steep switchback, but we made it to sea level in one piece and joined a few others strolling along the shoreline, idly searching for interesting pebbles. The beach was pleasant enough, and there was even a small bar where we might have recovered with a coffee, had it been open. The climb back up was every bit as gruelling as we’d anticipated, but, most satisfyingly, we overtook several people considerably younger than ourselves on the way.

Continuing, we arrived at the L’Antico Uliveto Hotel, perched on a hill above the town. This elegant property, part hotel, wellness centre, restaurant, and congress venue, is set amidst the green hills of the Marche region, with sweeping views over the blue Adriatic. An exclusive complex built within a 19th-century villa, it promises a relaxing retreat and is well-equipped with modern comforts. The hotel boasts 20 rooms, including two suites, six deluxe, and twelve superior rooms, all thoughtfully designed with luxury and comfort in mind.

Once again, we arrived too early for the official check-in time, but true to Italian hospitality, we were warmly welcomed and shown to our room without delay, as it was already prepared. A light rain began to fall as we were escorted across to our room, located a short walk from the main building. Our helpful receptionist came equipped with umbrellas, a small but thoughtful touch that set the tone for a very comfortable stay.

It was just a brief shower, and we were soon seated on our private patio, enjoying the rolls we had squirrelled away earlier alongside cups of coffee from the Lavazza machine in the room.

After a gentle exploration of the hotel’s beautifully maintained grounds, we set off on the short 300-metre walk downhill toward the beach. Sue, ever keen to browse the local shops, persuaded me to wander with her along the main street of this predominantly linear settlement. Eventually, we came upon a gelateria tucked into a small piazza, where we treated ourselves to a couple of ice creams and sat contentedly people-watching. Afterwards, we reached the beach via a pedestrian tunnel running beneath the coastal railway line, which stretches the length of this part of the Adriatic coast.

The shoreline here was much like Falconara Marittima, broad and sandy, with local workmen busily preparing for the summer season. We strolled lazily along the promenade that runs between the railway and the beach bars, pausing now and then to admire clusters of ground-hugging succulents, which we’ve seen many times before but never in bloom. The flowers were strikingly pretty, a cheerful splash of colour against the sand.

Back at the hotel, we relaxed on the patio and in our room until it was time to venture out again for dinner in town. We’d chosen a restaurant conveniently located next to the gelateria from earlier, but arriving at 7:30 p.m. meant we were a little early; it didn’t open until 8. So, we passed the time with another quiet stroll along the beach. The meal, once served, was delicious and thoroughly satisfying. As I was driving, I limited myself to one beer and some fizzy water, which seemed a fair trade for such a pleasant evening.

4th May 2024

After a very late breakfast, we left the hotel around 11 a.m. and headed inland along roads that, at times, resembled medieval trackways. It seems Italian authorities spend little on road maintenance, though every ten kilometres or so, we were either overtaken by or passing the Carabinieri in their immaculate new vehicles. Law enforcement appears to take precedence over road safety.

It was a good day for a drive, dry, sunny, and with hardly a lorry in sight, thanks to it being a Saturday. About half an hour from our destination, Santa Vittoria, we noticed a couple of cars parked off-road on a bend, beside a signpost intriguingly labelled Therapy Walk. Curiosity got the better of us, so we pulled over and set off along the forest trail, which initially ran parallel to a dry riverbed.

We hadn’t gone far when we were stopped in our tracks, literally, by a vast flock of sheep stretching ahead as far as the eye could see. Realising I had parked on the path they were heading down, I hurried back to move the car and avoid any damage from the approaching throng. Meanwhile, Sue chatted with two shepherds bringing up the rear. We were both captivated by their three enormous white shaggy dogs, who plodded calmly behind the flock, completely unbothered by our presence.

Once the woolly procession had passed, we continued on our way. A short detour led us down to the pebbled riverbed, and we scrambled across to the sluggish stream winding along the far bank. With nothing particularly noteworthy to keep us there, we rejoined the track. The blue sky above and the growing warmth of the day made it a pleasure to walk beneath the shaded canopy of trees, where we passed the time identifying wildflowers and shrubs and enjoying the tranquil stillness of the woodland.

Returning to the car, we drove on to Santa Vittoria and parked just off the main square. Sitting there, we ate the sandwiches and fruit we had saved from breakfast, enjoying the elevated views over the valley below and the snow-dusted mountains in the distance. With our appetites satisfied, we optimistically strolled toward the square in search of ice cream. But, of course, it was Italy, just past 1 p.m., and everything was shut, the town deserted.

Determined to see the church at the top of the town, we slowly ambled up through the narrow, cobbled streets. Many of the houses, which had been badly damaged by a terrible earthquake during our last visit several years ago, had now been repaired. Reaching the church, we paused to recover from the climb, snapping a few photos of the building, still heavily braced against further tremors. Then, slowly, we made our way back down to the car.

We arrived at Joan and Phil’s lovely home nestled on the hillside below the town, where we were greeted enthusiastically by Cat, their cat, who meowed loudly and demanded to be petted. Inside, Joan and Phil welcomed us warmly, though they preferred a handshake and a hug to the feline form of greeting. Despite Phil’s recent brush with cancer, they both looked fit and well, though like us, they had the familiar aches and pains that come with time.

We settled in with tea and coffee, catching up on news until Joan produced one of her delicious evening meals, and Phil brought out a couple of bottles of very quaffable Ciu Ciu wine. The evening passed with more conversation and listening to some of Phil’s vast CD collection before we retired to bed.