From Bach to Blood, Sweat and Tears

We have been touring the local area, encountering lots of pretty towns and photogenic countryside. We visited the 13th century fortress Bonaguil which is a massive castle which the local people are trying to restore. It will be a huge job because during the French Revolution the towers were dismantled, the materials were carried off and the place was sacked and left to decay. Nevertheless, the façade is impressive. We were going to hire some canoes and paddle down the Lot River but the weather looked suspect in the morning so we decided to go underground again. We drove to Pech Merle a cave system that was discovered in 1929 and contains rock paintings which are about 25,000 years old. There were also some human footprints in the mud that were a mere 12,000 years old, which really impressed us. Then we went on to St Cirq Lapopie - a town similar to Rocamadour but much more attractive in many respects and the vistas to the valley below even more dramatic. Karen took us on some back roads (again) but we forgave her because we came across a red deer in a field.

We said goodbye to Gina and Phil the next morning at Cahors train station. They were off to chateau country in the Loire Valley for a few days before heading to Paris for their final week in Europe. After bidding them adieu we headed for St Etienne Cathedral in Cahors for a jazz vocal concert in the Cloister due to start at 11:00. There were 8 singers, 3 men and 5 women - a capella (no accompaniment). Their repertoire was mainly African music from the Congo, Tanzania and South Africa. A really interesting sound, although unfortunately their encore - Thank you Lord - went a bit off the rails as they changed key several times, but at different times! Nevertheless an enjoyable musical experience.

The summer solstice in France is celebrated with music in towns and villages across the country. Some of the smaller ones like Puy l’Eveque celebrate a week earlier because they can‘t compete for the performers. The big show around here is in Cahors, 32 km from us. We went there and it was a good night. Lots of people of all ages, including many families were out and about, and there were bands and musical groups every 100 metres along the main boulevard, at some times just a cacophony of sound. After dinner we again headed for the Cathedral to hear some sacred music, a vocal group of about 40, singing unaccompanied., interspersed by organ music - Bach, Haydn and Rachmaninov(?) were three of the composers that we picked up in the commentary, as well as one piece by Handel that Fran used to sing. Heading back to our car Adrian picked up the unmistakable brassy strains of Blood , Sweat and Tears. The band was so good that we stayed until they finished playing. They also played some Chicago and other big-band numbers - great music from the 70's. Another late night - after 1:30.

Today we took to the hills to do one of the self guided walking trails around the small village of Castelfranc several kms from us and also sited on the Lot River. It was rated “easy” - 6 km, estimated time to complete 1 hour 40 minutes…but no one warned us about the European wasps that would harass us most of the way!! One got up close and personal with Adrian, stinging him on the hand. After that we weren’t game to stop for long to look at the scenery, because they got a bit feisty when we stopped walking. We think we set a new record for that walking trail.

There are vineyards in the surrounding countryside as far as the eye can see. When we went to the winery that had offered us a free gift nobody was home. So we went to the winery where our local restaurant buys its white wine and bought 5 litres. Wine containers in France are somewhat different to what we’re used to and the wine is cheap and good. We are quaffing more than we would at home.

Here is Fran with some of our empties.

Au revoir

Roll out the barrel

Our first Australian visitors, good friends Gina and Phil, arrived on Sunday and we met them at the Cahors train station. They had travelled from Carcassonne. It was great to see someone so familiar in such unfamiliar surroundings. We somehow packed them and their luggage into C3 and headed off on the half-hour journey home. As we pointed out things of interest along the way we realised that, in the short time we had been here, we had acquired quite a bit of local knowledge. We were all quite excited as we chatted about our different travel experiences and compared notes about the places we’d visited.

We had intended to go to a market on the way to the station but Fran went to Mass first and, due to some christenings and some First Holy Communions, she had got more than her money’s worth. By the time we reached home from the station, all the shops were shut, so we made a scratch meal out of biscuits and sausage, jambon, fromage and tomatoes, and then headed off to Grezels, a nearby village. Fran had discovered that they were holding the 5th Annual Wine Festival and that the program included the first Championship of Barrel Rollers - Exceptionnel dans la region! The competition was listed as kicking off at 3:00 p.m. with registration from 10-2 and practice from 2:30 p.m. This sounded like it might be fun. When we arrived in Grezels, the event was being held on a lovely grassy open space in the village. There was a display of historical cars and tractors, and various tents selling wine, wine and more wine. And there were a few other tents selling fresh fruits from the region, pastries, and other delicacies. Fran even recognised that the man selling sausages was our sausage man from the market at Cahors. The barrel rolling course was marked out with ropes and flags.

We bought a glass each for 2 euros and proceeded with the wine tasting. We’re not sure whether Fran read the program correctly as by 3:00 p.m. there was very little action on the barrel rolling course. But by 4 o’clock, everyone had finished their wine (except the 4 Aussies) and the event got underway. It consisted of teams of 2, rolling a big wine-barrel down the course. Initially, the casks were rolled on their edge for about 10 metres, then they were tipped onto their side and rolled up a plank and over a small log, down the other side, and then helter skelter in a straight line for a further 30 metres. There were 5 heats each of 3 teams, then a semi-final and a final. It was pretty funny because the barrels would not roll straight and the faster the teams tried to go, the more crooked the barrels would roll. There were continual cries of Garde la publique, Garde la publique from the MC as the barrels became lethal objects, careering off the course as the rollers struggled to keep them under control, falling over, leaping up and somehow managing to get to the finishing line. It was great fun watching the crowds scatter to avoid being crushed and everyone was laughing and shouting and having a good time. The winning team was presented with a huge bottle of wine, and the second and third placegetters also received prizes. Unfortunately our camera ran out of batteries and we didn’t capture any photos. Gina did, but we haven’t worked out how to upload them from her camera yet.

The next day the weather wasn’t as nice so we spent the day showing our visitors around our village and having some quiet time. However, the paparazzi spotted us having a quiet coffee at Le Salon Gourmand (again) and insisted taking our photo for inclusion in the next edition of the paper. We’re not sure which paper he was working for but have a sneaking suspicion that we might be the cover story of The Barista Monthly or some such similar (high-circulation) journal.

The following day involved a trip to the Gouffre de Padirac and Rocamadour. The Gouffre is an enormous sink hole about 75 metres deep and 30 metres wide, with an underground river and cave system at its bottom. You descend in a lift and then walk through the caves until you get to the river which is about 100 metres underground. You then hop into little boats (each holding about ten people) and are gondoliered about 500 m to a big grotto where guides take over and explain all the features of the river, height of ceiling, stalactites and stalagmites, etc. Unfortunately the guides didn’t have much English so we didn’t understand much of what they were explaining, although Fran picked up a lttle. It was pretty impressive though and we all enjoyed the experience.

We then had lunch at a nearby café and drove about 15 km to Rocamadour. It is a tiny town but its claim to fame is the way it apparently clings to the side of cliff. We were expecting hordes of tourists here but were pleasantly surprised to find relatively few people. The town itself is on the old pilgrim route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Its main building is the Chapelle Notre Dame (dating from about the 12th century) which sits at the top of the Grand Escalier (Big Staircase). Pilgrims used to undergo penance by climbing the 200 odd steps on their knees. We used our feet but our knees weren’t feeling too good either by the time we reached the top. We then continued up a zig-zag walkway, which had sculptured scenes of the stations-of-the-cross at each of the zigs. On the way home Karen misbehaved badly and we now have a serious breakdown in our relationship with her.

Fran and Gina on the Grand Escalier

There was a market in Cahors the following day so after a leisurely breakfast we decided to check it out. It had the, by now, familiar, hustle and bustle of a good French market. We stocked up on lots of fruit, vegetables, cheese, ham and sausage, and Gina bought a new top. Fran and Adrian knew that, just off the square where the market is held, there was a little shop that sold baked potatoes and a bar that didn’t mind you eating them at their tables, provided that you bought a drink. So we set ourselves up in the shade with pressions (beers) and a Perrier and had a lunch of baked potatoes stuffed with lardon (chopped bacon) and cream and topped with grilled cheese. Delicious! After lunch we looked at the impressive Cathedral St-Etienne (12th century Romanesque style), which has some beautiful stained-glass windows, and its 16th century Gothic cloister. Later we visited the Pont Valentre, a 14th century medieval bridge which is still in beautiful condition and is one of the landmarks of Cahors.

We have taken to the French tradition of having an aperitif at the end of the day. This usually includes some nibblies and takes a couple of hours, so we have been dining rather late. But it doesn’t feel late because it doesn’t start getting dark until after 10 o’clock. We decided to have dinner out at the Creperie, which is a restaurant in the pigeonnier across the river from our house. When we draw our bedroom curtains each morning we look across at the pigeonnier and it makes a lovely scene with the reflections off the river. The Creperie specialises in crepes but has lots of other items on the menu as well. They also have a pretty good selection of sweets, many of which feature various liqueurs. And they are generous with their servings. So, after our aperitifs, pre-dinner drinks, a litre of wine and some pretty potent glaces, we were glad we were within walking distance of the restaurant and didn’t have to drive when it came time to leave. We had a lovely meal there, sitting outside on a balmy evening with the light slowly fading and the old town of Puy l’Eveque making an attractive backdrop. Something tells us that you may hear more about the Creperie in future blogs!

At the restaurant, Fran and Phil recognised one of the customers as the winner of the barrel rolling contest from Grezels. As mentioned before, no Frenchman/Frenchwoman is safe from Fran and so she accosted the poor bloke. But he was happy to be recognised and congratulated. It seems that he owns a winery near Duravel, about 5 km away. After discovering that we were Australians and here for some months, he gave us a card that introduced us to his winery and promised a gift if we visited. So, guess what we‘re doing today!

Au revoir

Nappies and Dusty Bottoms

We continue to have some funny moments caused by language. After Fran’s triumph with getting our WiFi connection working, she has caused some mirth at one of the local hairdressers. We had noticed that hairdressers, together with boulangeries, are amongst the most common forms of business here. Puy l’Eveque has at least 4 hairdressers and we counted 5 when we visited Prayssac a couple of days ago. So the range is plentiful but making a selection is a bit of a lucky-dip. Fran usually prepares when she knows she will need to cover certain topics in her conversation. So she looked up the word for layer in the dictionary, which she found was couche, as she wanted her hair cut in layers. However, it appears that to the French the most common meaning is nappies. The hairdresser, his assistant and another customer thought it was very funny that she wanted a haircut with nappies - Would you like nappies with that? Fran has now decided that she will check the French-English translation after looking up a word in the English-French section of the dictionary to avoid further indiscretion. She thinks the word should have been grade or gradue.

We are starting to recognise, and be recognised, by people in the village. We know David, the Kiwi who worked in London for about 10 years before coming here 3 years ago with his wife, Rosie and 4 kids to open a restaurant. We went to his restaurant on our first night in Puy l’Eveque, which happened to be a public holiday when most places were closed. It is directly opposite us across the river. Then we ran into him again at the Soiree put on by a school run for kids on Wednesdays called The Clap (Most schools are closed on Wednesdays). He attended because he is thinking of sending his kids there next year. He told us that we were very public spirited to attend the show.

We also wave and say bonjour to the man at Le Salon Gourmand whenever we walk up Grand Rue. He and his wife were originally from this area but he spent about 9 years in the Navy before leaving to open up his new shop. We are surprised that he chose this village as there doesn’t seem to be sufficient population, nor enough tourists, to support his business. In fact, we feel guilty when we don’t stop and have a the, café or glace, because he looks a bit lonely waiting all day for the few customers he gets each day. Perhaps business will pick up in July and August.

We have a man who spends a lot of time outside our house fishing. He seems to be always there but doesn’t have much success, even though he usually has 2 or 3 rods going at the same time. In the 2 weeks we’ve been here, we’ve seen him catch only 1 fish, apart from the tiddlers he catches to use as live bait. It seems that he has a series of regular visitors who stop off for a smoke and a chat before hopping back into their vans or cars to continue their day. We suspect that catching fish is not his prime concern - it’s more about socialising , which he wouldn’t do if he stayed at home.

And across the little stream that runs into the river beside the boat ramp near our house, we have a chambre d’hote, run by Anne and Bill, an English couple. We haven’t met Bill yet, but Anne seems quite nice, if somewhat reserved. She owns a bitsa dog called Smara who, like many of the dogs around here, seems to do as she pleases. Anne has provided us with lots of information about the village and its inhabitants, including the low-down on another couple whom we have seen strolling about the village in the mornings and evenings with their 2 Basset hounds. They are Danish and he is a doctor - they used to make the 20 hour drive from Denmark quite frequently by car and with the dogs (an unpleasant thought!), but now they live here permanently. They have a very nice house and garden and are putting in a new swimming pool.

Puy l’Eveque is a cite fleurie, which seems to indicate that the Mayor (i.e. the local government) makes an effort to make the town look good by having lots of gardens, planter boxes and flower pots filled with begonias, petunias, geraniums, verbenas and other colourful plants. Every couple of days we see 2 men in a truck driving around watering all the plants - we call them Bill and Ben. We have a couple of planter boxes on the Cale outside our house and another couple of boxes affixed to our wall. Fran was surprised one morning to look out the bedroom window, which is on the first floor, and come almost face to face with a man using a wand to water one of our planter boxes. Of course, she said Bonjour!

On previous visits to Europe we have noticed the swallows that seem to fill the air at various times of the day. In other parts we have seen them in flocks, zooming around and around, apparently doing circuits. Here, they fly around at great speed above the river in front of our house, but in groups of 2 or 3 rather than in flocks. Adrian had remarked that it’s a wonder they don’t have collisions. Well, it seems that they do have collisions because we saw two dead ones floating down the river a couple of days ago and it seemed the only explanation was that they had run into each other in mid-air and fallen into the river. We also saw a pigeon who was unable to fly, floating in the river - just like a duck. As he approached the boat ramp he flapped his wings and propelled himself towards it. Later, we saw him waddle up the ramp and up our little street, where he disappeared into the vacant garden next door. We have strange neighbours.

There seems to be plenty to keep us occupied in this little rural community. Fran saw in the local paper that L’harmonie de Puy l’Eveque were performing in a church in the tiny village of St Vinvent Rives d’Olt to raise money to help restore their church. Thinking that it sounded like a choral group she thought it might be an opportunity to meet and, possibly join, a local group. It turned out that they were an orchestral group, comprising mainly wind instruments. They played an eclectic mix of numbers ranging from classical pieces by Bizet and Offenbach to the overture from My Fair Lady and a Santana big-band arrangement. They were all quite difficult pieces performed quite well and the concert was most enjoyable. Fran didn’t let an opportunity pass without practising her French - in fact no Frenchman or woman is safe if the happen to sit beside her. The lady was delightful, running a B & B nearby and informed us that she had recently had some Australians staying who were on the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage.

On another excursion we visited a small village called Frassinet-le-Gelat which will strike a chord with any Mary Moody fans reading our blog. She fell in love with this region several years ago providing her with enough information to write a series of books based on village life in the Lot. It is in this village that she owns a home. So after checking with a lady leading over the railings outside the Mairie (who may well have been the Mayor enjoying an easy day) to confirm that the house opposite was indeed the home of the Australian author, Fran took this photo.

Saturday night here was really hopping. It was billed as La Fete de la Musique which basically meant that there were a number of musical groups performing al fresco throughout the village. It was advertised as running from 6:30 p.m. to 3:00 a.m. It seems this is a traditional thing and is held in all French towns in June, somewhere near the summer solstice. In Puy l’Eveque, which is only a small village there were at least 9 separate groups performing at various locations throughout the village. One of the locations was on the Cale, just near our bedroom window. The band was called Dusty Bottoms and played modern-style French numbers. Other groups played in different styles including latin-american, punk rock, modern jazz and Mississippi blues. We didn’t quite last the distance, hitting the sack at 1 a.m., but the atmosphere was great and everyone had fun.

Au revoir

A Village life

We have now settled into our maison in the village of Puy l’Eveque, having now been here for 8 days. In the first few days we conducted a series of sorties around the village trying to get our bearings. This wasn’t as easy as you might expect since most of the town is built on the side of a fairly steep hill and we live right at the bottom, next to the river Lot. So whenever we want to go anywhere in the village it involves a hill climb. At first we were surprised that there seemed to be nobody around\but quickly realised that that is the norm for the middle of the day when most of the shops shut and the people go off for a siesta. Simply by walking around the streets you come across many interesting and unusual sights. There is a maze of rues, or little streets, leading from the waterfront (or cale) up to the Mairie (mayor’s office) at the top of the hill. So each time we go up to the top of the village we use a different route and keep encountering new vistas and quaint little narrow streets lined with old stone houses. Our house, viewed from behind, is in the centre of the picture below. It’s so wonderfully different to suburban Canberra.

On our first day of exploring there was a market in Puy l’Eveque, so we were up early. We purchased some sausage (after checking with the sausage lady that her sausages were gluten free), together with some fresh tomatoes, lettuce, eggs and a baguette. We were a bit surprised, however that, apart from the eggs, the prices were not particularly cheap. Initially, we were preoccupied with food - there isn’t an obvious grocer, butcher or supermarket in the main part of the town so we were wondering where we would get our supplies. Fran’s diet added to the challenge. Since then we have discovered that there is a supermarket here and an even better one in Prayssac, which is about 5km away, so now we know we won’t starve. And there is a boulangerie within 200 metres!

Freed from the worry of starvation, we have also been exploring the local region. One of our first trips was to Cahors which is quite a large town/city about 30 minutes away. We visited there on market day (there was some lingering doubt about starvation) and discovered a really vibrant market in the square in front of their cathedral. Here, there was a mass of fresh produce and other market goods and the prices were much better than at the Puy l’Eveque market. We did some shopping including fresh fruit and vegetables, sausage, ham and, of course, some fromage. We were also able to discover an internet café and publish our most recent blog entries. Fran had the name of a health food shop that reputedly had a good range of gluten free food so we asked Karen to take us there, which she did with perfunctory ease.

One of our biggest worries since we arrived in Puy l’Eveque was our inability to get access to the internet. This was such a pain because we knew we needed to be able to do some internet banking while we were away (read: Adrian had bought a new Netbook computer and could not justify the expense unless we could use it!) After about 4 days of trying and, with no help forthcoming from the owners of our maison, Fran rang Orange (our internet provider) and, in French, was able to explain our problem and negotiate a solution. Adrian was in total awe at her ability to do this in French - Elle est magnifique! So now that we have WiFi access to the internet we can post to our blog and send and receive emails (if only someone would send us some!), all from the comfort of our own sunroom, or sitting room, or courtyard (read: Adrian now feels relieved and justified about buying his Netbook computer).

On one of our walks we came across a garden snail clinging on to the side of the bridge, high above the Lot river - a most unexpected place for a snail. As Fran said - If you’re a snail in France, you need to find a good hiding spot if you don’t want to be eaten! It seems the Pompiers were searching for him though!

We have also visited some of the other small villages in the area. Inevitably, they have lots of honey-coloured stone houses and other buildings with an unaccountably large stone church with stained glass windows occupying the highest point in the town. And they all seem to date from around the 12th - 13th Century. This is Albas, one of these towns. We wandered past a petanque (or boules) championship here and, although it looked pretty low-key to us, they take it very seriously here. After the petanque, Sam and the Acoustiquaires were billed to entertain the teams and their supporters, but we didn’t stay around to hear them.

Fran still hadn‘t found any decent GF bread and was sick of not having a decent breakfast so, yesterday, we made a trip south to Montauban where she (again) knew, via the web, of a special shop that sold a good range of gluten-free food. It was a round trip of about 200 km but we came home with a boot full of GF goodies. Luckily, the town of Salvagnac was in the same general direction. This was where we had already booked to stay in a cottage and had paid the deposit, but the owners had to sell their own house and needed to move into “our” cottage, so the deal was cancelled. So we called in to see what we had missed out on. The owner, Jenny Gardiner, welcomed us in and showed us both of her cottages in the town. While the one we had selected was quite nice, it was much smaller than our current maison and so we are quite happy to have ended up here. While we were there her Jack Russell terrier, Rocky, took a dislike to the post lady, nipping at her heels, but not before she had delivered the mail. Jennifer rushed out saying Je suis desole Madame, C’est mieux si vous disez “Bonjour Rocky” (Sorry Madame, it’s better if you say Hello Rocky) - We reckon she’ll be lucky to get any more mail - What a hoot!

Fran is a bit disappointed that we still haven’t broken the ice with the locals, despite trying hard. So far we’ve attended Mass at the local church which dates from the13th century (but they didn’t show the sign of peace, so no excuse to be friendly) and in an effort to mix with the community, we attended a Cabaret Soiree for which we had seen posters around town. Expecting some sophisticated entertainment, we were somewhat surprised to discover it was actually a concert for kids who attended after school care centres in Puy l’Eveque and surrounding villages. It was pretty entertaining nevertheless with the programme including songs (some in English!), flamenco dancing and circus tricks (such as a juggler who juggled with just 2 balls). All acts were heartily applauded and the kids enjoyed themselves. At one stage the teachers led the audience in the French equivalent of the Macarina or Nutbush City Limits. We joined in.

But we have made a friend at Le Salon Gourmand which opened only a few days ago - we think we are their first repeat customers!

Au revoir.

A Room with a (interrupted) view

Dear all

Our previous blog was posted prior to us finishing it. Hence the rather cryptic reference to another camera capturing us as we drove to Cahors near the village of Mercues was supposed to be accompanied by a photo of a speed camera which snapped us without our knowledge and...no warning given!

Here is another view from our sitting room looking towards our courtyard out the back and the buildings above and beyond. We continue to have fun...

Au revoir

A Room with a view

We drove from Cassis to our first cottage in Puy l”Eveque without incident. Karen told us that it would take about 5 hours and 5 minutes, but it took more like 7 hours 30 minutes. Karen did a good job and took all the stress of navigation away from Fran. However, she took us on the scenic route through the back roads between Cahors and Puy l’Eveque. At places the roads were so narrow that we had to get down to second gear and we wondered what sort of backwater we were heading for. But we eventually arrived and it was a pleasant drive!

On arrival, the owners of our cottage were hanging out of the window and welcomed us warmly. They are an English couple, probably in their late 50’s and our house used to belong to his parents. The original parts of the house are 15th Century and our building was originally a number of separate houses that have been joined together. We have a cellar, then a lounge room/sitting room/ dining room, a mezzanine kitchen, through to our large bedroom with bathroom, then up to the guest bedroom, bathroom and a glassed-in sun room or au vent. Outside, we have a small courtyard garden with outdoor furniture and umbrella, adjacent to which is a vacant enclosed area with weeds and stone walls where the washing line is.

There are views from every room, but the one we enjoy the most is the view from the sitting room which looks both over the river and back towards the stone buildings on the hill behind us. Here is Adrian enjoying the river view and a glass of wine. It was taken at about 9 p.m. as the sun here doesn’t set until late.


And here are some more of the views.

The conversion to Francoise and the Pink Panther continues. Francoise bought some classy sunglasses in Canberra (with bling) and the Panther has discarded his sensible Australian Cancer Council sunglasses for more a streamlined pair that he can wear on the top of his head whenever he isn’t wearing his hat. However we must not forget that surveillance of style happens everywhere in France. It seems that, like the people of Cassis, the people in the tiny village of monitor the style of the people entering their village, and have installed a camera to take a picture of people who do not meet their standards. This camera took our picture as we drove past it yesterday. However, today we wore our stylish sunglasses (with bling) and drove slowly past the camera again (so that it could get a good look at us). It didn’t take our picture this time so we must meet their standards of style now.

We have had enormous difficulty connecting to the WiFi that has been provided in our cottage. Despite all attempts at linking to the Net we have not yet been successful and the owner is not very helpful. However we found an internet café in Cahors that enabled us to send our blogs and, yesterday, discovered a library (or Mediatheque) in Prayssac (about 5km away) that has free WiFi which we were able to use to connect to the internet and check our email.
Fran is coping very well with the language, but still has her moments! Her French faux pas so far have included the following. On stumbling across the shop where she had bought her (stylish) red leather jacket 4 years ago, she informed the owner that she had sold her jacket there, not bought it. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow at this but proceeded to try to sell a (stylish) leather jacket to Adrian. On another occasion, on checking out of a hotel, Fran spoke in French informing the lady at the desk that we were leaving. The lady asked in French whether we would be paying by cash or credit card, to which Fran replied Non. She had guessed that we were being asked whether we had used anything from the mini bar. Of course, the lady was quite surprised by this very odd response and switched to English. The Panther, too, has had his moments. On ordering an espresso, the waiter brought a beer. It seems that the name of beer is pression, which sounds similar. But the Panther said Je suis Australien, which seemed to be explanation enough, as the w

To Cassis with Karen

We caught the bus to Nice airport where we were picked up and taken to collect our car. It is a silver-grey Citroen C3 and after installing Karen, we headed off towards Cassis, which is about a 2-hour drive on the freeways south-west of Nice. We were going to call our car Robert - a sophisticated French version of Bobbie, but have decided to just call him C3. We were fairly nervous about driving on the wrong side of the road at first but managed to negotiate the trip with only 1 motorist getting angry and flashing his lights at us. Travel tip No.5 - Set your rear-vision mirrors before you hit the freeway. Karen navigated us right to our hotel door and, despite some initial jealousy on Fran’s part, the three of us are now inseparable driving companions.

View from our hotel window

Cassis is a small fishing village - 8,000 inhabitants - on the coast just east of Marseille, although from what we’ve seen so far it is more a tourist town. Once again, Fran’s research paid off and our hotel, although old, is right next to the quay, the port and the beach. Our room is on the corner of the building so our views are of all three, where there is a continuously changing montage of people, boats, cars and motor bikes.

It seems the people of Cassis are wary of people like us and have erected signs to warn us about our lack of style.

In fear of being run out of town, Fran decided that we antipodeans need more sophistication. So it’s goodbye Kathmandu Girl and Akubra Adrian. Fran hopes, like the transformation of Eliza Doolittle, to become Francoise, while Adrian has decided to assume a James Bond persona. Unfortunately, since he is more like Peter Sellers than Sean Connery, the outcome is more likely to be Pink Panther than 007. As the first step in the transformation Adrian now sports a tres chic hat that is a cross between the hats worn by Ian Chappell and Tony Greig, while Fran has a new 2-piece swimsuit that doesn’t go baggy when it gets wet.

We took a boat trip to the Calanques (small fjords) and later walked to the first of about 8 calanques. The walk was much better as the calanque cut back inland for hundreds of metres which we were not able to see from the boat. Weather was OK but a strong wind blew all day one day and the next was cloudy.

Au Revoir

The Price of a Smile

From Manarola we travelled to Nice by train. Although we expected to be able to do this by an inter-city express train, when we tried to book our seats we were told that all seats were already taken, so we had to take a local train. This was OK but made for some interesting moments. The train from Monterosso was supposed to leave from Platform 3 but just as the train pulled in an announcement said it was on Platform 1. So we had to do a mad dash off Platform 3 down the stairs, under the tracks, up the stairs, and onto Platform 1. But we made it. Travel tip No.2 - Take note of Travel tip No.1.

Then, when the conductor came to check our ticket, we suddenly realised that we had forgotten to validate our ticket. He was not amused and scolded us and said that the fine was 50 euros. He then started to write something on the ticket and Fran turned on the charm, thinking he was writing a fine. But he wasn’t, and so we now know the value of a smile in Italy is 50 euros. Travel tip No.3 - In Europe, don’t forget to validate your train ticket before boarding.

In Ventimiglia, on the border of Italy and France, we had another interesting time when we had to purchase tickets for the French part of the trip. Of course, just as we started to struggle up the steps with our suitcases, etc. a train pulled in and a million people swarmed down the steps which, seconds before, had been empty. Adrian’s bulk came in handy and we managed to avoid being carried along in the rush by using a suitcase as a battering ram. The trip from there was very relaxed until the train pulled into Monte Carlo when we were again swamped by a horde of commuters who were not very happy to find their routine interrupted by some pesky tourists. Travel tip No.4 - Don’t arrange to arrive in a city by commuter train at knock-off time. But we survived their annoyance and found our hotel in Nice without any problems. The train trip along the coast provided interesting scenery and the time seemed to pass quickly.

Our hotel in Nice is in a pedestrian area, which is to say, is in the centre of the tourist area near Promenade des Anglais. The meal we had was tres ordinaire and the waiters more interested in the final of the UEFA club championships (soccer) than in doing their job. Then we spent the next morning wandering around the Colline du Chateau (the hill above the port in Nice) providing some amazing panoramic views and later sauntered through the old town. We swam at the beach later in the day, which has hard pebbles to sit on, not soft sand as in Australia. While Adrian had a power-nap, Fran checked out the Lonely Planet for restaurants and came up with a beauty. It was a little family-owned restaurant in the old town called La Table Alziari and, although Fran had only a limited choice of food, the meal was delicious. Adrian thought it was the best meal we’ve ever had in France. We were seated at a table next to a young lady from Germany who was a language teacher and visiting Nice during her holidays to get first-hand experience in the French language. She ran out of luck with us! She’d travelled to NZ but didn’t go to Australia because she was worried about all the dangerous things (snakes, spiders, sharks, jelly fish, etc.). We had a great chat and didn’t get home until after 11 p.m. It was one of those wonderful experiences you unexpectedly have when you travel.

On Friday morning off to the open markets for breakfast. We needed an open space because Karen was confused about where she was. So while Fran looked at the flowers, Karen looked at the sky (to find some GPS satellites). On the way there, we were about to cross a road when a police convoy comprising 3 motorcycles, police van, and another car, all with sirens wailing, came along, scattering pedestrians and causing chaos. As the car came past us we were startled to see both driver and passenger wearing black masks and what looked like anti-terrorist gear. The passenger had a gun pointing out the window, directly at us. We think they were just escorting the van, which was a prison van, but it certainly shook us up having a gun pointed at us at point blank range.

However, the French are typically more genteel. As you can see in the photo, they think highly of their dogs here, and this puts new meaning on “taking the dog for a walk“.

Au Revoir