Finally got free WIFI and not too tired to post a catch-up

Marseilles

Big city, pretty harbour.




Avignon

A pretty little village. Famous for being the home of the Popes for the 14th century. From the outside the Popes Palais looks very impressive. To see the inside will cost almost $20 per person and perhaps one hour in a queue (at weekends). There is NOTHING inside worth seeing. The Pope took everything of interest when he relocated to Rome. Later lootings got the junk he didn't want.



The village centre is pleasing for a wander.


Le Pont Du Gard


A very pleasant river setting, favourite of learner kayakers. There is a pile of well organised rocks forming a bit of a bridge. Nice to just walk around and soak up the sights and sounds of the countryside.


Nimes
We are sure the amphitheatre is worth a look, we didn't see it.


Arles
Another quaint enough village. Getting over these now.

The amphitheatre is NOT worth a look. A 170 million euro restoration project is under way. Why they would bother is not clear. They must have a better use for such an enormous amount of money.


Carmargh Bird Park

Saw many Flamingos and other birds. We were eaten alive by mosquitos for 3 hours.

Went to the nearby beach but decided enough of beaches and pretty medieval villages perched preposterously on mountain tops, we were heading for the hills.


Sisteron

Much samller town, exceptionally pretty and what a Citadel (on top of a very bill hill).




Saint Michel L'Observatoire

We found the smallest hotel in one the smallest villages in France. An observatory is on a hill nearby. We bravely chose the Demi Pension, but this time the food was not too scary until Tricia faced an unspeakable desert. I courageosly gave up my Creme Brulet and sacrificed myself on hers, which I actually liked. Tricia retorted "well of course you like it, it's tasteless muck and you are English". The proprietor pretended not to speak English to make fun of us. Everyone has been very friendly, this was the first time we encountered a sense of humour about our plight. His wife is Scottish so Tricia had some very long chats with her.


Lauzet Du Lac

A wonderfully pretty lake, which inspired the Monet in me.



Later enjoyed dinner in our Hotel with a bus load of Germans. The food was excellent again. I discovered how to re-boot the Hotel Receptionist by speaking a sentence with french then english then french again. She just stopped, stunned, glazed over, then suddenly bounced back to life with a "oui". After dinner we played some very silly games of table tennis.


Whiteout



At 160 Km from the sunny beaches where we started in Nice, finally it is snowing very heavily on us at the Italian border in the Alps (2100 metres).

We turned around at the border and headed back to the Maginot Line block house that should now be open. If it really is open it will be first planned successful encounter with a museum type thingy.

We were stunned, it was open, we were stunned again inside. Recommend ducking on going through steel doorways.



Back to the "Route Des Grand Alps" and places which featured in the Tour De France, like this.



Finally to our Hotel in Briancon, and a take away pizza devoured in the laundrette.


Driving

Driving in France has a different feel than in OZ. In OZ our lanes are comfortably wide that it seems offensive when another vehicle strays from its lane. Here in France the "lanes" (if there are any) are rarely wide enough for two cars to comfortably pass. Lane markings are little more than an optimistic guide.

However, everyone seems alert and courteous. Sometimes you and the oncoming vehicle just have to stop and the one nearest to a slightly wider part of the road reverses and pulls over to allow the other to pass.


Getting to a Hotel

The places of most interest to visitors are usually in the very centre of town. We found it best to drive directly into the centre and then find the first pay carpark we came across. Then grab the essentials and off on foot to find a hotel. Few hotels in the centre of town have parking, it's not worth hoping for.

The walk from Car park to hoel could be anything up to 1km, usually up steep windy hills. In the first hotel we grab a tourist map of town even if the hotel is "complete (full)", too expensive, or too horrible.

Once we have picked a Hotel expect to be carrying your bags up 3 or 4 flights of stairs, there might be an elevator, but likely not. If there is one it can really test your patience.

Sorting out a change of clothes at the car and therefore only carrying the absolute necessities for an overnight stay seemed our best option.

Since the hotels never provide tea/coffee making facilities in the room one of the esentials is an electric jug.

Swiss Haven

We left Saint Raphael heading for Saint Tropez via the coast road. Traffic was so bad we were virtually in a car park so we opted for the real one on another pretty and sandy beach. The cafe shop had a bit of shade and much appreciated cool drinks. However two normal cans cost us 7 euro which is $12. Prices here are awful for us aussies. The virtual car park was just as bad when we were leaving so we went back towards Saint Raphael and headed for the tollway.

We then had a brief stop at our first shopping mall and grabbed some much cheaper supplies. Tricia also needed to buy a kettle and tea bags because the hotels here never provide you with such things. They are happy to sell you a tea for anything from $3.50 to $6.00 though.

We had now given up on the idea of Saint Tropez and headed for Toulon instead (near Marseille). However, a random decision led us to Hyeres instead.

Next day we caught the ferry to a different island to the one intended. It was hot and the island was pretty. We did much snorkelling, and walking, and got blisters from the sand rubbing in our shoes.

We got off the ferry feeling happy but exhausted and grabbed the first hotel we came to "Mein Holiday Kampf".

It seemed as if a little piece of Germany had be transported to the middle of France. The main language for all signs and the main spoken language was German. All the guests (holiday plan members) were German also.

The room is the best we've had. Neat and cleen to a fault. We had a balcony. Dinner was a buffet which we shared with 400 Germans. The best food we've had in France? so far. The massive pools were heated. I got sunburnt on a banana lounge at 7PM.

I thought I'd settle down to the Man Utd match to discover there was no TV in our room, not even an antenna socket? I discovered the kids room had a TV and switched it over from the muppets. This was a bad move. Thirty pairs of eyes and very young lungs eventually won out.

The next day we discovered this was actually a Swiss owned resort. Since the food was such a relief from that French nightmare, we decided to stay another night.

The Bad and the Beautiful

Grasse seemed uninteresting. However, it was a much needed break from the beauty of everything else we had seen in the past week. And the laundry got done.

On leaving Grasse we encountered cute village after gorgeous valley, after stunning coastline.

Mougins was a definite highlight, one of the best examples of a very tiny historic village on the top of a hill we have ever seen, and there are hundreds of them around here.

Biot was interesting to see a real life master glass blower at work.

The journey to Cannes and then on to Saint Raphael was very pretty. We skipped past Cannes, it looked very busy.

Saint Raphael is gorgeous and we caught the last hour of the Sunday market on the harbour.

The next day we did a bit of hiking in the mountains behind the seaside village of Agay and cooled off with a swim and sit on the beach there.

The drive from Saint Raphael to Cannes along the cost road is similar to the Great Ocean Road, but in a more civilised way.

We found our next home there

We finished with dinner on the Saint Raphael harbour at sunset,

Even the food was perfect today, the customary rouge vin was as nice as ever but not required to cover up for nightmarish ‘food’ this time.

Tricia says it was just because I stole her pomme frittes. Maccas was next door but plan B was not needed.

Escape from Alcatraz

The next morning, our term served, we anticipated freedom. However, our term was extended by one hour when one of our French inmates attempted to negotiate the meaning of “minimum”. We just signed the required paperwork and fled.

The roads were spectacular and windy again. Again I needed reminding about how to drive.
We spent a few hours revisiting the old walled village of St Paul Du Vence.

We stumbled upon a Hovel (er Hotel) overlooking Grasse, which is famous for its perfume. Apparently nowadays this is primarily produced from internal combustion engines. We had a refreshing dip in the piscine.

Dinner was exactly what we had now come to expect, at least this time we had a choice about our own fates. The chef was eventually persuaded to use his crème broulet heat gun on the meat. Oddly, this had never occurred to him before. I hope it catches on.

We stayed an extra night to do the laundry and recouperate from the challenges of the past few days.

A stroll in the Alps

We went for a 5 hour, gasp for breath, ascent of one of the mountains in Le Mercantour National Parc. Breathtaking. On the way back down our feet were screaming.





After a swim (cold) and a hot shower we hobbled fearfully to dinner…

I thought cooking necessarily involved some form of heat. Apparently not, in France. Even the lettuce was fleeing the scene from this stuff. I seriously considered the ways in which I could use my napkin to pretend I needed a toilet visit and then allow the salmon to swim for its freedom. Tricia later orally released the salmon into the toilet but it was not in great shape by then.

Facing Fears

The day started innocuously enough, a short drive to Fort Roche, we were very eager to see it after we caught a glimpse last visit (before the renovations had finished), however, it was only open from 2PM on weekends and were there on a Wednesday.

We drove to the much larger Fort Barbonnet, which is only open on appointment from the town we started off from that morning, Sospel.

So far we are 0 – 4 trying to get into places of interest.

We found one of those high alpine roads with lots of switch backs just like in a James Bond movie. I was very happy zipping around the u-turn bends with the solid wall of rock on my side and the 1,000 metre vertical drops on the other. It was heaven, until my right arm and ear drum were violently assaulted. Apparently Tricia’s fear of heights is not restricted to elevated glass walkways and cable cars.

The rest of the journey to Le Col De Turini (co-incidentally famous for rally racing), had to be done with Tricia changing the gears as my arm needed hospitalisation.

We had a brief stop at a ridiculously perched church and renegotiated my driving style. The other side of the Col was just as jaw droppingly pretty.

We arrived at a hotel. According to the web it’s a gorgeous hotel. The door was locked. This might explain why they didn’t answer the phone when we tried to make a reservation. We went around the back to find a couple relaxing on the rear balcony with their books. I launched into some pathetic French to discover they were an English couple who did have a reservation but couldn’t find the owner to let them in. They had been waiting 4 hours. We sat and chatted and took it in turn to check the front door for a couple of hours. The hotelier arrived! The Hotel is pictured in the centre behind a yellow thingy in the following photo.

The room is gorgeous, with antiquey looking stuff all over. Tricia tells me it is actually “Ikea meets French Provincial”. The roar of the stream outside was amazing.

We agreed to “half pension”, which means B&B plus dinner.

Then we went to dinner…

Apparently, one does not get a choice from the menu with this system. You are basically at the mercy of whatever the chef wishes to try out on you.

The chef seems to be an avid CSI fan as the huge entrée plate we both got looked like a crime scene photo. There was this thin bloody thing all over the plate and various scattered parts of other animate and inanimate objects strewn over the top.

We looked at one another, laughed, and then ordered a big bottle of cheap champagne.

The next dish was still mooing but the crème broulet offered much needed respite. The champagne helped considerably also.

Aimless expedition while jet lagged

Arose at 10AM for le petite dejurner, pleasant continental brekkie.

Decided not to go near the car again.

Went to the Musee de beau arts to find its closed on Mondays.

Waited for the open top tourist bus until patience dictated a random local bus (at least 5 minutes). Instead of 20 euro each it was 1 euro and dropped us near the main art gallery, ... which was closed on Mondays.

Headed for the Port on foot, but stumbled across the "Old Town" and a few million American tourists. Climbed up to a little lookout on the point, to discover a large park and cafe at the top. Gorgeous views. I got a headache for the cold ice drink. Another 30 degree day.

Climbed down the other side to the Port itself, each of believing it was just because the other wanted to.

After discovering neither of us had a purpose in being her, we hopped another 1 euro bus to Cap Ferrat. While we passed through Villefrache we were wondering why we weren't getting out there, it was gorgeous. But Saint Jean Port and Cap Ferrat was even better.


Sat on the beach sipping cool drinks for an hour or so enjoying this view.














Tricia has now been snoring for two hours while I've getting my tech fix.

The beach at Nice at 6PM

The Longest Day

We were pleased to have a 777 which provided 300 or so viewing choices on the back of the seat 9" screens. Several movies and soccer replays were squinted at through bleary eyes in the many uncomfortable hours fidgeditng to try to minimise discomfort enough to sleep and our brains were working that bad then.

We had an 8 hour leg to Singapore, 1 hour refuel, 7 hours to Dubai, 2.5 hours layover, 6 hours to Rome, 1 hour on the plane waiting for the final 1 hour leg to Nice.

We got the car OK after rectifying that we wanted it for 36 days and not the 6 they had recorded.

Since we were travelling light, it was no surprise that Tricias two bursting at the seem bags were almost unmanageable as we drudged around the car park and over-ramps to the pickup point for the car.

We started out of the depot and managed to remember to head right around the first roundabout and even cleared the airport at the first go (it took us three goes last time). "Why did we get a manual?", er, "Why on earth did you get a manual?", er, "What were you thinking?", er, "You know how hard it always is on the first day", er, er, ... The traffic was solid but we clung to the rear of another tourist crawling along in the slow lane. The beauty of the Promenade des Anglais was a little dangerous to motorists nearby, we missed the unmissable first turn. Gambled on a turn, then a right then a left, we were lost. Oh shit, I'm on the left hand side of the road, I better get accross to the right, through those yellow concrete blocks with large gaps, oops, its a bus lane and we are in a one way street, but at least we aren't fully in the bus lane, but I can't turn back into our lane because of the yellow block, where's reverse. It's marked on the gear shift but no way known will this go into revers, it doesn't have reverse, "Why did you get a manual?", ... Try and try again, no reverse, a bus is now hurtling towards our rear end. Arrgh. Tricia opens her door to make a run for it, oh no shes gone to the front of the car so now I can't go forward, why is she glaring at me, oh OK, yes push us back into our correct lane, more glares, push harder!, and I might just innocently take my foot off the break too. Bus driver is now presumably swearing at us.

A couple more turns and were magically at our hotel. Its on a quiet street, and we turn off the street into a little winding alley to iron gates. They remotely open and welcome us in. A frantically friendly hotelier, seems to recognise we are not entirely in control of anything, tries to assist us to park. Eventually success. We are two flights up big stairs with thos monstrously heavy bags.

After a 36 hour day, and in complete panic, the first need is a shower.

Then we head out on foot to explore that pretty promenade along the beach and get some real food at a restaurant on the beach watching the waves and the sunset, and the planes flying by to land every 2 minutes. It was 26 degrees at sunset, shorts and t-shirts, no jacket for painful stroll back to the hotel. Feet no longer happy.

Finally to sleep after a 42 hour day, at 8 PM. Kept waking but much better than the plane.