This morning involved a little housekeeping - we packed up and Barry got on the internet to play some bills. We tried to book our next stay, but none of our potential destination hostels took web bookings except Pompei. We decided to take our chances anyway, and headed to a beautiful spot called Sperlonga along the coast.

We, of course, took the wrong roads, meaning we headed in the right direction, but took secondary roads instead of the Autostrada and ended up delightfully off track once more. Margaret always enjoys these small, winding roads, mainly because she gets to see the incredible terraced fields and picturesque hillsides while Barry risks all our lives navigating the crazy Italian roads.

When we arrived in Sperlonga, we immediately started looking for the hostel sign. Two trips back and forth across town and four stops to question the locals later, we found it (we'd driven right past it, but missed it, as usual), but it was closed for siesta. So we went for lunch at a little cafe beside the sea and then went back. It was still closed, so we decided to swim until it opened up. Just as we were grabbing our swim gear, two men walked into the parking lot. We asked where they were coming from.

"Rome. We bloody well walked."

"From Rome?"

"No, from the bloody bus station. Bloody hot."

"Have you got reservations?"

"No, you?"

"No, and this place doesn't open up again until 5:30, so we're going for a swim just down the road."

"Now, that's the idea! I could swim with me rucksack on. Wash these clothes. I'm smellin' after all the walkin' after all that train and bus business. Bloody hot."

They ran down the road and we met up with them at the beach. They were a lot of fun to hang out with, and thought the waves and the incredible sand were perfect. So did we.

At 5:30, Barry walked back to the hostel but came back with bad news. The place was full. He said the Brits just about had a meltdown when he met them halfway back to the beach. They were furious because they didn't know where they were going to stay. We swam for a while longer, disappointed but delighted with the experience of being on such a perfect beach (the best we've seen).

As we were about to leave town, Barry suggested we try the hostel one more time, just in case there was a cancellation or something. Connor and Margaret inquired and the woman said that a family room was available. We couldn't believe our luck! She showed us the room and we were absolutely thrilled. It had 8 beds, but we were allowed to have it all to ourselves! Of course, that just didn't seem right. Barry and Tessa went to find the Brits, but it was too late. They had disappeared.

We changed clothes and headed for the center of town, where we had noticed people setting up for some kind of event that night. First, we had a meal at a nice pizzeria, and then we headed to the town square. While walking down the steps, Tessa suddenly pointed at - the Brits! So we went and sat with them. Their nicknames were Stratty and Duckula (Richard and Nathan), and they were very happy when we invited them to join us in our family room. They're 30 and 33, construction workers, with lots of great travel and soccer stories, and were like characters out of some kind of British sitcom. We enjoyed their company immensely. They told us they'd both text messaged their "mums" to say they'd be sleeping on the ground for the night. Stratty had even considered throwing a rock through a window to get arrested for shelter but Duckula did not approve, and so they were very happy we'd made the offer of a bunk.

The big event was a TV production fashion show, complete with a catwalk, models and music. It was free (they needed a live audience and kept asking for applause) so we got to watch an absolutely bizarre Italian fashion extravaganza (Minerva Modina) under a nearly full moon with two quirky near-Londoners. Travel doesn't get any better than this.

That night, Duckula gave Connor a Manchester United soccer shirt which, of course, thrilled him, and we went to sleep, happy to have helped someone else out on the road.