Spanish tour on a Vespa

My very first solo trip on two wheels was many years ago on my yellow Vespa, I was in my early 20s.

Nothing was holding me back and I decided, after reading the brilliant Giorgio Bettinelli’s book, where he travelled from Rome to Saigon on his Vespa, to go West to explore the South of France and then maybe Spain.

Without any plans or deadlines in mind I packed up the front rack with a sleeping bag and a tent and the rear one with a hiking backpack. I had two maps, one for each country I was planning to visit, no gps or internet.

My starting point was Genova northwest of Italy, few hours from the French border. I rode on the Ligurian coast thoughtless, excited for the adventures that I was going to face.

Over the first couple of days I got sunburnt and I learnt my first lesson: not to ride in shorts or t-shirt.

Then, as the mileages started to pile up, I understood how to organise the days, how many kilometres to ride, the pauses to take, how to eat, the right place to build up the tent…

Thinking how often to fill up the petrol, even if not necessary, was another important lesson learnt, as often wasn't easy to find petrol station.

I had the luck to get to know lots of people, most of them curious to know where I was going, where from and why, but also locals from the small villages I was visiting. It was thanks to one of those chats that I found out about an hippy community on the southern part of Spain, not far from Almeria, still living detached from modern society one hour walk from main roads.

Riding solo during that trip became a sort of meditation that took shape as time and distances went by, the further West I was riding, the more I needed it, as a long conversation taking me to new conclusions.

During those months where I was constantly moving I lost the feeling of belonging, had no comfort zones and no routines as every day was different.

Days went by, my time was regulated by the Sun - as it isn’t pleasant riding in the dark- everything was very exciting until it wasn't anymore. I can't say it wasn't good, but at some point I started thinking that wasn't enough, that it should have been balanced with many other things that make our lives complete, or at least, mine. I started thinking how would have been to share those moments with someone else, or what to build up next and ultimately where I was actually going.

To a have a life full and fulfilled is a constant balance, and perfection is far from an easy reach.

I arrived in Cadiz with 1900 km behind me, I saw for the first time the Atlantic Ocean meeting the Mediterranean sea and the idea I had along the way to cross the Strait of Gibraltar to Morocco remained an idea, so I decided to go back.

Turned the Vespa and started pointing East, I stopped many times in beautiful Andalusia, where I was fascinated about how deeply the Moorish legacy shows itself in the architecture, then Valencia and Barcelona, where I decided to get on the ferry to Genova.

When I was on the deck of the ferry leaving the Port of Barcelona, looking at the city getting smaller, I couldn't believe what a great life adventure I had. Today, many years later, I can say was one of biggest journey of my life.

Once I was back home, for the first weeks I was missing so much riding that I had to jump on the Vespa and make some miles as a sort of rehabilitation.

Few months after I left again and moved to London.