bikes

There�s a haze over the Piedmont hills as we begin our cycle from the B&B to Casale Monferrato. As the crow flies, it�s perhaps twelve kilometres. As the cyclist wanders between hilltop towns, it�s thirty kilometres one way. It�s the early morning of May Day, so the roads are quiet.  Every time I see the church at Camagna, I shake my head in disbelief that a village of less than 600 residents should have such a crowning glory towering above the town. As we cycle through, a bunch of teenagers are playing a curious game in the main square. It reminds me of royal tennis, where a number of players stand each end of a court, sometimes measuring up to eighty metres and hit a hard tennis ball with a racket that looks like a tamborine with a skin stretched tight over the circular frame. When the teenagers hit the ball, it shoots off the racket with a sound akin to a rifle shot.  There�s a full-size court in Vignale, the neighbouring village. A few years ago here, I watched a tourn...