After several weeks of touring historic sites and churches, we decide to broaden our Italian experience. Our destination for a local weekend experience is the Pombia Safari park. It is essentially a drive through zoo. You can drive your own car or ride in their safari wagon. We opt to drive.
We arrive early, park, and have a cup of cappuccino inside a small restaurant adjacent to their campground while we wait for the park to open. Once the park opens, it is hard to figure out what to do next. There are toll booths where cars are queuing. But the signs and different colored lines don’t make it obvious which line we should be in. I can translate the words, but the contextual meaning does not translate at all. So we do what we always do….pick a line…. Watch the locals…..and fake it.
We are handed maps and several tickets (I have no idea what they are all for). And we drive up the hill behind the 10 cars in front of us. Steep hills, large animals, small car, manual transmission…..what could go wrong?
To ease into the experience, we meander through antelope, ibex, kudus and ostrich. Then there are zebras and giraffes. Suddenly there is a rhino bigger than our car standing outside my window. I only became worried when we are stopped right next to the hippos. When I was in Africa, the guides would not let us near a hippo. They insisted that they are the most dangerous. And here they are, a stones throw from my open window walking toward me. There is hay thrown out for them by my car tire. So much for danger.
I have just settled down from the close encounters in the safari area when we approach a new fence. This one has a sign that says “Danger of Death”. There is no off ramp, so we read the sign and giggle as we follow the line of cars into the enclosure.
We driving through fields of free roaming lions and tigers. Each field has a guard in a watchtower and also one on the ground in a safari jeep. I can’t decide if that should make me feel safe or worried. Our direction, if something should go wrong, is to stay in the car and “hoot” repeatedly. I think the translation should actually be to honk, but we practice our hoots just in case. (There are lots of puns here, but I will leave that alone.)
Actually, it is delightful. The big cats are well fed and generally lazy. They play and yawn and roll. There is no real excitement, other than to be near a powerful creature for a few minutes in the afternoon sun. I want to stay longer but the parade of cars roll us along with them. We drive out and into the goats, camels and cattle section. It is a bit of a let down after close encounters with the African big five.
After the safari drive, we park and walk the rest of the park. There is a sea lion show held in a large above ground swimming pool under a tent. We don’t understand a word of the show, but children’s laughter and animal antics always translate. We have seen enough sea lion shows to anticipate the punchlines.
Perhaps my favorite part of the day is the walk through the free range lemur enclosure. Only a few people at a time get to wander through lemur land. It reminds me of the up close and personal experiences we had in Australia zoos. The animals decide how much or how little interaction they want. You stay in your lane and let them come to you. And they are curious. I can never get enough of close encounters.
The park has a dinosaur garden, a reptile house, and a bird walk. Because Italians are fascinated by Westerns, there is even an old west town. In the summer, there is a water park (closed on the day of our visit) and an arcade area. They also have an amusement park. Which may explain the extra tickets, but we forgo the rides.
It has been a good visit. The zoo experience is something that translates world wide. Smiles and giggles are universal. And so are hotdog and hamburger zoo meals, apparently. In a zoo, you see the same smiles and excitement and unfortunately, the same parent and child melt downs no matter the country.
Leaving the animal park, we set out to explore wine country. We live in an area with a variety of wineries and we are interested in the comparison. A few turns and we are heading down a winding two lane road with no shoulder, weaving through vineyards. The vines look familiar, but there are no tasting rooms or live music venues. In fact, most wineries in this region indicate they are by appointment only. One field has a small booth set up by the road and we almost stop. But I find a designated “Azienda Agricola” or working farm/vineyard that has good reviews and is supposedly open.
We drive to the farm. There s ai sign indicating we are at the right place, but there is only a house and a barn. Vineyards stretch in every direction but nothing resembles a winery. We decide to turn around beside the barn and just leave.
As we drive from behind the barn, a man appears and directs us into his driveway. We get out and greet him. He opens his garage door. It is full of wine. He doesn’t speak much English and we speak even less Italian. He says something in Italian that ends in “vino” and hands me a bottle. I smile and nod. We repeat the process several times. The only bottle he doesn’t hand me is a large green unmarked bottle. I point at it. He says “all the grapes. We drink for dinner.” At least that is what I think he says. I smile and nod and he hands me a bottle.
It is a little awkward, being the only ones in a stranger’s garage. We aren’t really drinkers, but we are here to buy wine. We want an authentic Italian experience. We actually know nothing about what we are buying, but the man seems nice and sincere. It can’t possibly get more authentic. So I take what is offered. And that is how I end up with several bottles of wine in the trunk of our car. They roll around all the way home….just imagine all those bottles and all those Italian round abouts. We spend $20.00 total and come home with “all the grapes”, literally. Just another walk on the wild side.
