Firstly, let me start by saying that I'm drinking a fine French Bordeaux from a plastic cup, lying on a king size bed in what is possibly the nicest hotel IN THE WORLD. Lest you think that what I'm about to tell you next is in any way designed to make you feel sorry for me. From the bottom of my heart, everything I say from here on in is the truth. The past few days have been more amazing than I ever could have hoped for. The last four hours have been like a horrible sideshow roller coaster that you jump on because everyone says it's so much fun and then ends up being the most diabolical misery machine ever invented. The idea was simple, drive from Nice in France to La Spezia in Italy, spend a day exploring the five villages known as Cinque Terre and then drive across to our hotel in Chianti, Tuscany. Enjoy a fine red while the sun goes down, and congratulate myself on being so damn clever.

Okay so what I didn't know was that my hire car company does not hire out GPS navigation systems for vehicles being returned to a different place from where they are picked up. They also neglected to tell me this, despite my booking. Never mind, I'm a canny young man who remembers the days before GPS technology. We had maps, didn't we? Once upon a time, intrepid tourists would have gone without the use of GPS and my current predicament requiring self-navigation was going to be, I figured, something of a tip of the hat to my trailblazing forebears. And as I sped along the French and Italian Riviera without incident I thought to myself "Self, you're doing mighty fine work".

So no major problems to speak of. We said our metaphorical goodbye to France after a week of culinary delights, sights and sounds and experiences, including our dalliances with traffic that could best be described as chaotic. Let me put it this way; driving in France is manageable. Anyone who has stood and watched through their fingers as young Parisians on scooters zip between cars as they hurtle around the whirlpool of traffic surrounding the Arc de Triomphe will understand that the conditions can be a little unnerving.

Then we arrived in Italy, where apparently, the road rules are merely a template upon which you can pretty much superimpose your own vehicular requirements; the lines demarcating lanes on the Autostrade are just a rough guide, as are speed limits, and the signposts telling you which direction you need to turn are pretty much a blind man's best guess. Bearing in mind that I was driving on the opposite side of the road and on the opposite side of the car, it takes quite a lot of energy to enjoy a leisurely drive in the Italian countryside.

Almost as soon as I exited the Italian Autostrade towards La Spezia things started to go awry. The map was difficult to follow, made no mention of the numerous one way streets and couldn't be bothered mentioning the smaller streets at all. The signage was often turned at a funny angle so that people on the other side of an intersection can see where you're going, which is very thoughtful, but most of the time it just means that you don't know where you're going. Navigating a roundabout is like Russian roulette with a steering wheel, and heading further into the hills was like sitting the world's toughest driving test.

Still, we managed to navigate in and out of town, enjoying a fantastic day visiting (thankfully on foot) the five cliffside villages of the Cinque Terre. What happens next was a journey into the heart of darkness.  The plan was to drive from La Spezia to a little hotel just outside Radda in Chianti. Google maps told me this was probably a two and a half hour journey. At some point, I was going to exit the Autostrade and fend for myself on the back roads of Tuscany, this occurred in a little town called San Miniano which is apparently so desperate to have tourists stay, they make it almost impossible to leave. We drove around for around forty minutes confused as to why all the roads leading out of town were going to Florence. Surely just one road must lead away from Florence, which was the direction we were headed. Eventually, we pulled over for help. Apparently, the sign to 'Firenze' (Florence) also implies that you will have a chocie to drive towards Firenze, or away from Firenze. So, the sign for 'Firenze', is also the sign for 'not Firenze'.

You with me? Good, 'cos it gets worse. Knowing that we had lost some time, I was starting to become anxious. We had budgeted enough time to arrive at Villa Campomaggio before nightfall, knowing that navigating in the dark was going to make the whole ordeal that much harder. Little did I know, that Italy had one more test in store for me.

Poggibonsi.

Poggibonsi is the word I wake up screaming in a cold sweat.

Poggibonsi is a hellish honeycomb of roundabouts, one way streets, no left turns, no right turns, no turns at all. To the good people of Poggibonsi, I say to you with all respect, the name of your town will stay with me for the rest of my life. As a warning.

A helpful man eventually pointed out my folly; I was approaching the intersection I needed from the wrong side. From the east, there was no sign to tell me to turn, if I did a loop of the entire town and came back in the opposite direction, I would clearly see the sign that I needed. By now, night was falling and the final excruciating 19 kilometres were a series of switchbacks so intense that I seriously, honestly considered pulling over and sleeping overnight in the car. Thankfully, we came across Villa Campomaggio after only a few more wrong turns, dead ends and stops for directions. The helpful man at the from desk knew what had happened to us as soon as I mentioned Poggibonsi.

Today is a new day. We have two more glorious days with our Renault Clio before I hand it back to the hire car company, but right now I'm going to spend the afternoon not thinking about driving at all.  I am now, quite literally, under a tuscan sun. I am Diane Lane.