And all that jazz

The concert put on by the Traditional Jazz Band was fantastic, with La Salle de l'Age d'Or full to overflowing. Adrian was a bit dubious when we arrived and saw just three instruments set up, one a portable piano with an elderly gentleman in collar and tie peering through the backstage door. Fortunately his fears were unfounded and we were treated to three hours of foot-tapping music by a sextet of talented musicians - keyboard, clarinet, trumpet, trombone, double bass and drums. Five of them were from Nice and one from Aix en Provence. They were certainly laid back and obviously enjoying themselves. Many tunes were recognisable - Swanee River, Jeepers Creepers, and When the Saints Go Marching In, at which stage many in the audience started singing along in English. Of course the band also had French words and used that tune to introduce each member of the band who played a solo to great applause. The atmosphere was happy and congenial. Music really is a universal language, which can be understood, shared and appreciated by all.

On Sunday there were several festivals to choose from - the Fete de Coings (Quinces) in Cotignac and the Fete de Chataignes (Chestnuts) in Camps La Source. They were about 25 km apart and not far from our place. So we decided to take in the carnival atmosphere at both. Quinces and chestnuts were on sale in all sorts of edible or drinkable fare as well as in craft. Music again featured at both. Chestnuts are a major industry in this part of France - there were roasted chestnuts by the bucketful, glace chestnuts, chestnut cake, jam, wine and liqueur, even chestnut soup. Of course these festivals provide opportunities for vendors of all sorts of culinary goodies to market their fare. Fran has, on previous occasions, been a sucker for a friendly French market vendor and should have learnt their tricks - Bonjour Madame as they proffer a taste. But no...slow learner! In this case it was candied fruits of all descriptions and Monsieur was only too pleased to go through the names of each and every colourful piece, after Fran had accepted a sliver of ginger. Of course she then "had to" buy some. Two pieces each of peach, apricot and orange. Total cost - 15.75 euros or A$30 ... ouch!!! Of course we should have, at that stage, said Non Merci (and just appear to be stupid - Adrian's words) or go ahead and pay the money (just be stupid - again Adrian's words). Fran has vowed that's the last time - first it was the lolly Pirates (their real name) in Nice, then the sugar coated peanut-selling man at Prayssac markets and now the candy man at Camps La Source. Should have stuck to the chestnuts! Fran also bought some quinces for stewing, wishing to rekindle some childhood memories and discovered that quinces are considered a cure for drunkenness!! Adrian suggested that she should get into the them - the cheek! As it turned out, she ended up with enough for herself and half the neighbourhood.

On returning home from this adventure in the afternoon and whilst waiting at the traffic lights into the village (the road in places is only wide enough for one car), we saw a sign advertising that the Entrecasteaux football team was playing that day at 3:00 pm on the village's playing fields and urged everyone to come and give support. So we did. After a scoreline of 1-1 for most of the game, Frejus (the opposing town) was awarded a goal when the player should have been ruled hors jeu (offside). The final score was 3-2 with Entrecasteaux losing - a disappointing result. However, there was a simple pleasure in being part of a community barracking for its football team whilst sitting in the late afternoon autumn sun on a Sunday in a small village in the south of France. The shouts from players and coaches were probably no different to games in Australia, with Fran learning a few new phrases. The ref had to speak sternly to the Frejus coach more than once, cautioning him for his unruly behaviour. Adrian thought that he was lucky not to be sent off the sideline.

We have visited some more authentic French villages, again not listed in guidebooks, although Bargemon now has some celebrity residents - David Beckham and Posh Spice who have bought a house there. We wandered around the narrow quaint streets and had fun speculating which property was theirs. We think that the grounds of this house (pictured left) were certainly grand enough, with a sweeping view over the valley and a large olive grove. In addition to a full tennis court and in-ground swimming pool, it had a garden pool with fountain and a well tended shady garden, all surrounded by a high wall, over which we were still able to peek. We don't think they were home as they didn't invite us in for

tea. Here is a fountain and square in Bargemon.

Last week we headed to Aix en Provence, about 80 km from Entrecasteaux, a beautiful city with a history dating back to the year 122 BC, when the Proconsul Sextius set up a military outpost near some springs. However the town really took off when Louis II of Anjou founded the university in 1409. It is still obviously a university town and apparently is home to 30,000 students. The central avenue - Cours Mirabeau - is bordered with old plane trees, and lined with grand 18th century buildings and some ornate and unusual fountains. We were particularly interested in No. 10 - the site of the former Hotel Isoard de Vauvenargues (1710). It was here in 1784 that the Marquis d"Entrecasteaux finally succeeded in murdering his wife, by slitting her throat so that he could marry his mistress. It was his 4th attempt! He had twice tried to poison her with no luck and another time placed cherry pips on the stairs which caused her to break a leg. (He was a relative of the celebrated explorer, Admiral Antoine Bruny d'Entrecasteaux, who was mentioned in a previous entry.) Of course there were amazing churches, Eglise St Sauveur with architecture dating from the 5th to the 17th centuries, and another founded by the Carmelite nuns before they were chased away by the French revolutionaries. Here is part of the University at Aix-en-Provence.

Daylight saving finished here last Saturday night, but it took us three days to find this out. There is a clock on the Mairie but its hands resolutely remain at 7:00 all day. The clock bells were still ringing at 8:00 in the morning and 7:00 at night (by our watches) so we really had no way of knowing. We had a clue, thinking back, when the football match scheduled for 3:00 didn't start until 4:00, but, then again, all the public events we've attended in France have had very elastic start times.

The autumn colours in this region are at their most beautiful among the vines, with many and varied hues of ochre, gold, burgundy, rust and brown. The vendange or harvest is over for another year. We are looking forward to the olive season due to start some time in late November. The olives here are delicious. Our village has a working mill which processes 80 tons each year, which we imagine is small by comparison to others. The change of season has also brought about the disappearance of tables and chairs from outside bars and cafes. In our town square, the chairs belonging to the Bar Central have been stowed away for winter and the space reclaimed for parking. Closer to our front door, the restaurant had its last service at lunch time last Sunday before shutting for the winter. The locals were quick to drag back its flower boxes to create another two parking spaces, although there is an on-going dispute between the restaurateur and a local resident as to how much space can be legitimately reclaimed. This provides some entertainment for us as one person drags the boxes to one side and the other drags them back again. The tree which provided such lovely cool shade when we first arrived is now losing its leaves, requiring us to sweep up a pile every day. We are hoping that the sun will shine through the branches when they all fall as our house gets quite cold at night and in the morning. The days, though, are warm with clear blue sky and a light breeze. The forecast, however, is for a degradation early this week.

Beautiful Var

This photo is taken from our front door looking into the garden of the restaurant next door - Bistro Gourmande. Beyond it is the town square and the Bar Centrale where everything seems to happen.



The weather here in Provence (in the Departement du Var) has started to chill quite considerably and quite quickly. When we arrived at Entrecasteaux two weeks ago the temps were still in the mid-20s during the day and we could sit outside to eat dinner. Fran suggested the other day that we may have to turn on the heaters before the end of October - Adrian’s retort - “maybe even before the end of the day”! Coincidentally, on the day that Dot and Jeff departed, we experienced our first Mistral (the strong gusty winds which are typical of Provence at this time of the year) and the mornings and evenings have been very cold. So much for skipping winter whilst in France.




We continue to enjoy exploring some of the beautiful little villages relatively near to Entrecasteaux. They don‘t make the guidebooks, but they are interesting nonetheless for all sorts of reasons - Villecroze - with its grottos and well maintained public gardens, complete with waterfall; Chateaudouble so named because it had, not one, but two forts - Castel Diabolico and Castel Duplum - defending it from invaders. It is built at the top of a rocky peak with many rocks supported by wires and netting to protect the houses immediately underneath.. However, there were others, boulders really, with no support, that looked as though they could crash down at any time. Just past Salernes, where we do our internetting and shopping, is Sillans La Cascade which has a waterfall and rock pools about a kilometre from the town - a peaceful spot and apparently a popular family outing on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
Then there is Draguignan, a large town where we’ve found two gluten-free stores and it’s only 25 km from home with much to explore. En route home the other day we stopped there for a coffee and the café we happened upon is the oldest in the town - Les Mille Colonnes - established as such in 1760, but the building was originally a house built in 1318!!
Our first social occasion in the village was attending a film evening in the community hall (Salle de L'Age D'Or) - Entrecasteaux in Images. We were welcomed by one of the locals as soon as we arrived - Laurent, a young man who explained to us (he teaches English) that the French media has been very interested in Entrecasteaux and its Chateau, and had provided some of the film. Everyone was arriving inside the hall with plastic cups filled with roasted chestnuts. These were being roasted in a drum (like a barbecue drum) over hot coals. This of course is a novelty for us, so we bought some but couldn't quite master the art of opening them. Fran recognised one of the men from Mass and sat beside him - Bernard, a very friendly and jovial fellow - who chatted with us throughout the evening. The films and the evening were really interesting, providing us with a fascinating insight into the village and the community. They featured several of the locals (some old footage) which provided a source of mirth among the audience, even wolf-whistles at times. The atmosphere was incredibly warm and welcoming despite the almost zero temperatures outside. There is a jazz concert this Saturday in the same hall which we plan to attend.




Sunday was predicted to be a belle journee and so off down south we went to the Coast, a good decision, as Sunday is hunting day (wild boar and pheasants) and there was quite a collection of army fatigues, guns and cartridge belts assembling at the bar in the town square as we left. There were also a number of dogs including one inside a car, barking and ready to get on with it. We headed first to St Maxime with all its expensive boats and then on to St Tropez (with its even more expensive boats), famous seaside port renowned for attracting the rich and famous. What were we doing there? Fortunately we arrived around 1:30 pm. It seemed that the St Tropez Classique (fun run) had occurred that morning and the signs alerted us that the roads would be perturbee between 8:00 and 11:30.

Infamous person spotted at Plage Tahiti near St Tropez

Fran was immediately on the lookout for any celebs and had only walked a few paces before she saw (might have seen) Anthony La Paglia darting into one of the many little boutique shops which line the narrow streets leading to the port. We stopped for a coffee with the (other) beautiful people at a cafe called Seneqier where, according to that source of all travel wisdom (Lonely Planet), Sartre wrote Les Chemins de la Liberte (Roads to Freedom). We left the cafe crowds and ate our picnic lunch in a sheltered spot on Plage Tahiti (hmm...not quite!) after which we enjoyed a peaceful walk along the coastal footpath before heading homewards. En route, we spied a fort at the very top of a peak (like most of them in France) at Grimaud, a beautiful village. The fort was built in the 11th century, used and abandoned several times, the last time around the time of the French Revolution. On that note, Adrian is working his way through the 1100+ page tome - Les Miserables.




We have received another visit from the elderly gentleman who left us with some photos of Bruny Island and a hand-drawn map of Australia (mentioned in the last blog entry). This time we invited him in and he sat with us for about 20 minutes chatting on to us in French. Fran explained that it was quite difficult for her to understand spoken French as everyone speaks so quickly. He laughed, but it didn't slow him down. Sometimes he would direct his comments to Adrian who was looking back at him with a totally confused look on his face. It didn't deter him as he kept chatting. Fran showed him a photograph of the four generations in her brag book - her Dad, Fran, daughter Georgia and granddaughter Chloe. He told us that he is 90. We certainly engaged on one level, although it was a shame that we couldn't understand everything he was saying. He said that it would be easier if we all spoke Esperanto. We helped him down our steps with the sounds of Bon Soir (Good evening) and A Bientot (see you soon) echoing in the still misty cold of the evening.




The other day on another walk around the village, we climbed to the top of the hill where the 18th century St Anne chapel sits. It provides a fabulous almost 360 degree view of the surrounding region and a birds eye view of Entrecasteaux (see photo below).




As we post this entry we have experience three consecutive day of cold and rain and yes...we have turned the heather on!

A week in Provence

Week two of our stay in Provence has commenced and we are certainly starting to settle in. It is such a small village that we see familiar faces passing by our little cottage every day. We suspect that we are something of a curiosity here. A few days after we arrived we were pleased to welcome our final visitors to France - Dot and Jeff. During their stay we started to explore our local area and some of the villages nearby.

One day took us to Barjols where we expected the weekly market to be in full swing, but it seems that our information was out of date. Barjols has 34 fountains and 12 ancient public washing places - we didn’t see them all! However, here is an example of one of the more exotic, water dripping through moss covered foliage. We thought that it was the fabled “champignon” fountain, but on closer study of the guide at home, realised that it was another strange one.
As Jeff had set his students at University of Canberra the task of collecting candlesticks this semester, he was keen to find some historic examples and promised that he would search for some in France. Voila! He found a beautiful example - French brass (and not too heavy) at a Brocante (Antiques) dealer just outside Barjols and managed to get three euros knocked off the price.

Then we went on to Pontleves - a village perche - with a ruined castle and several water fountains. We stopped at Cotignac for lunch (8 km from our village) which is built at the foot of a tufa cliff (80 metres high) containing grottos. Since a closer examination would have involved an ascent which looked decidedly precarious, indeed almost dangerous, we opted out of that adventure.

The next day we visited the magnificent X11 century L’Abbaye du Thoronet, described as “one of the three wonders of Cistercian architecture in Provence”. It is renowned for its “quite exceptional” acoustics. Fortunately we noticed a flyer for a concert the following evening and resolved to attend. A group called Var Musica - three men with the same surname (possibly a father and his two sons) - performed pieces by Palestrina, Byrd, Vivaldi and Bach. Mostly it was a cappella singing in fabulous harmony, but some pieces included accompaniment by cello and marimba (like a xylophone). It was a magical and spiritual concert - as Jeff said - There was almost a 4th voice - the Abbey itself -which allowed notes to linger in the air for a few seconds. On closing your eyes, you could quite easily hear the same sounds that had resonated in that space 800 years earlier.

Prior to the concert Dot and Fran had attended Mass at the church behind us on the hill and enjoyed another musical experience - equally spiritual. As they entered the church just prior to 6 pm they could hear the sounds of an acoustic guitar being plucked and the small gathering of about 10 people practising the hymns. What did surprise them was to see the priest in his green robes with guitar slung over his shoulder leading the practice. He played and sang beautifully but the tunes were pitched very high. After mass he was outside and greeted all the parishioners. Fran told him that she was staying in the village for two months and that she had enjoyed the music. The priest asked if she was musical and, on answering that she was a singer, invited her to sing “on her own” the following Sunday - Fran was non-committal as the last thing she wants to do is step on the toes of any locals. Stay tuned!

Our village, Entrecasteaux, boasts a splendid chateau dating back to the XI century with additions and renovations through to the XVIII century, indeed to the present day. It is now occupied by a married couple and Monsieur is a keen collector and DIY enthusiast - he has plenty of material to work with. The chateau is adjacent to our home and is part of the varied vista when dining al fresco. It was, at one stage, inhabited by Admiral Antoine Bruny (pictured right) , the French navigator and explorer who set out to look for La Perouse, without luck. Bruny Island and the d’Entrecasteaux Channel off the coast of Tasmania are named after him.

The morning after our arrival in the village we noticed a sign on the external door to the Chateau’s garden indicating that guided tours were available each day at 4:00 pm. However, just days later, on our tour of the village with Dot and Jeff, the sign read “Ferme jusqu‘a Paques“ (Closed until Easter) except for personalised visits or tour groups. There was a telephone number which Fran rang and, in halting French, left a message explaining that her friend was a Professor of History with a particular interest in seeing the chateau and that she would call back. On doing so the next day, Monsieur G (the owner) answered and again stated that the Chateau was closed, and that he was going away for a week, but that we could join another group on the following Saturday morning. When told that we were staying in the village for two months, he was very keen for us to telephone him again on his return so that he could give us a personalised visit. The interior of the chateau was amazing with an eclectic mix of styles evoking different historical eras. The guide was delightful and insisted that, as we had missed the earlier part of the tour because she had started before the appointed hour (there were about 20 French tourists), we remain behind after the tour group left. She took us into the oldest part of the chateau, complete with dungeon (and plastic skeletons to provide the mood) to a room devoted to Admiral Bruny. She was accompanied on the tour by her husband who acted as security guard, making sure that all candlesticks(!!!) remained in place. On discovering that we were staying in the village for several weeks, she told us that they lived in the old hospital and invited us to call around some time.

We have several elderly neighbours who gather together every afternoon sitting en plein air enjoying both the warmth of the afternoon autumnal sunshine and observing the village life. One gentleman approached our door one day, keen to show us some documents he had in a plastic sleeve including a hand drawn map of Australie with Tasmania and Bruny Island noted in particular. He also had some modern photos of Bruny Island and a young man taken whilst holidaying in Tasmania, as well as an historic photograph of Admiral Bruny. Of course he spoke rapid French and we only managed to pick up a little of what he was explaining. As we had told Madame C who lives next door that we were from Australia, it would seem that he expected that here were some people who would really be interested, unlike the majority of the guests who holiday in this cottage, who are American. He left them with us to study further and will return another day. Perhaps at that stage he will share a drink with us.

On Dot and Jeff’s last full day in Provence we ventured to the stunning Gorges du Verdon. En route we obviously passed through boar country as we noticed several men with high powered rifles and bright orange vests staged at intervals along the side of the road - it is the hunting season now. They were waiting for the boars to be flushed out of the forest by another group of men with dogs. When that happens they all start shooting. One of the English locals had previously informed us that it is the ricocheting that causes the injuries. As we drove past we were ready to duck!
The Gorges du Vergon form Europe’s largest canyon, in places as deep as 700 metres and as narrow as 8 metres across its base. Needless to say, the roads were again winding with some hair-raising drops and evidence of rock falls. Jeff admitted to feeling a bit car sick and so we turned back after several kms. None of us were disappointed - we were driving along heady heights which became quite disorienting! A visit to the quaint little village of Moustiers Ste Marie nearby with its waterfall, ancient narrow streets, bridges and churches rounded off the day.

We returned to another fabulous meal conceived and prepared by Jeff which included wines from Provence and Bordeaux - a decadent life really but, oh, so enjoyable!

The Long and Winding Road

This blog entry starts on board a ferry heading from Calvi in Corsica to Nice in France. If the writing is a bit shaky, it’s because, despite its size, the ship is rolling from side to side. Adrian is focussed on the TV on the wall which doesn’t move, as he doesn’t like this sort of rock ‘n roll. Even the bartender is a little concerned (for his grog that is) as he said “Mamma mia” and promptly moved all his bottles to a lower shelf.

Our plans to visit the north eastern part of Corsica called Cap Corse were changed after a Sunday’s drive - lots of bends and beaches that didn’t inspire. So after two nights at Erbalunga, we headed west across the top of the island towards Calvi, a large port town. En route we passed through the beachside town of St Florent and then traversed the Desert of Agriates, very rugged mountain terrain unlike any other landscape we have ever seen, and certainly not typical of our notion of a desert as there were trees and scrubby growth. We had considered stopping at Algajola, another seaside town, but again the beaches didn’t look great (Sardinia has spoilt us) and so onwards to Calvi where we spent two nights. Calvi is an attractive and interesting town with a citadel on the headland. At some stage Christopher Columbus lived there as there were signs to his house and there were hotels and streets named after him. After Calvi, we headed south to Porto, located in the Gulf of Porto, a UNESCO world heritage area, famous for its sunsets as it is surrounded by high red cliffs. The little town of Galeria was about an hour down the coast - there was an inland route and a coast route. Having travelled for 6 km down the coast road the previous day we opted for the securer feeling of the inland route. Besides it was 15 minutes faster.
From Galeria the road to Porto became progressively more scary. The road was winding and so narrow in parts only one car could fit. There were minimal guard rails, some only made from small rocks neatly placed side by side as if bordering a rose garden rather than a sheer drop to the sea or chasm hundreds of metres below. There was quite a bit of evidence of falling rocks and in parts it definitely looked like landslide territory. Nevertheless there were the perennial tour buses and Adrian commented that you would have to be gutsy to drive a bus here. The little hillside town of Piana was only 12 km further south than Porto. We are really glad that we did that drive because the scenery was stunning, even though the roads were even more narrow and buses would sound their horns as they navigated the blind curves. We were thankful that we didn’t have to reverse to let them pass. This photo of Adrian was taken at one of our panoramic stops, but he was very nervous and opted to sit rather than stand. En route back to Calvi on Friday 2 October, we beach hopped, stopping in at three of the small coves - Bussaglia, Caspiu and Gradelle. It was at the last of these that we were in for a surprise. We shared the beach with several of the local cows, some reclining on the sand as if sunbaking and taking in the view. Talk about contented cows and why wouldn’t they be? In fact, there were more cows than people. We had seen cows by the side of the road mooching about and eating whatever they could find. We came across this one sitting on the road at the top of one of the ascents, almost as if she was having a rest after the climb. Each of these beach drives necessitated some lengthy descents from the hilltop villages above. The water was crystal clear and warm and the environment so peaceful and tranquil.

On arrival at Nice port we were a little frustrated that there were no buses to transport ferry passengers into town. So we walked about 3 km to a bus stop from where we knew we could catch one to the airport, to collect our Peugeot. Unfortunately we forgot to program Karen properly and she was set to avoid toll roads. We discovered this after several kms along the coast road to Antibes and so backtracked getting stuck in local bumper to bumper traffic and wasting almost an hour. We arrived safely in the small village of Entrecasteaux at 7:30 pm after a long day’s travel and, as we unlocked our front door, we were warmly greeted by the owner of the restaurant next door shouting out Bonjour, Bonjour (in fact the restaurant is literally 4 paces from our front door!). As we had nothing to eat in the house for dinner we decided to eat there and enjoyed a lovely three course meal in a pleasant setting.

Our first day here was spent exploring some of the village, unpacking, washing and visiting one of the local markets to stock up on some food as it was Sunday and not much is open. It is a very small village with only 900 inhabitants, but our cottage is in a very central spot adjacent to the XI-XVII century chateau with a public garden designed by Le Notre, the same man who created the gardens of Versailles. Here is our cottage.

Race around the world

Travel Tip No. 6 - Don’t fly cheap airlines during a global financial crisis.

We have learnt a big lesson. After safely returning our little reliable C3, we arrived at Nice airport with plenty of time to catch our Sky Europe flight to Vienna. The departures board had our flight listed, together with the portentous word Annule. On enquiry, we discovered that not only was the flight cancelled but the airline had completely folded due to the global financial crisis. GREAT! - and we knew that we had booked two trips with them, one to Vienna from Nice and one to Zadar from Vienna a few days later.

We had to consider our options and, hoping that our insurance policy covered collapsed airlines, decided that despite the very costly flight, we would book with Lufthansa to Vienna via Frankfurt. We had a four hour wait at the airport. We finally made it to our accommodation in Vienna after midnight and collapsed into bed. The next morning was consumed with altering our travel plans - booking train tickets to Zagreb and changing the car pickup destination to there. Once done, we could start to enjoy Vienna. It really is a most beautiful city - gracious, sophisticated and grand are apt descriptions. Everywhere you look there are beautiful street scenes and wonderful buildings. Here is their equivalent of Parliament House.

The metro there is fabulous, making exploring very easy. Whilst there, we attended mass at St Stephen’s Cathedral, with a choir accompanied by brass instruments and an organ, enjoyed an annual festival to celebrate the harvest in the forecourt of the National Bibliotek where we met up with some locals (which was a hoot), visited Schloss Schonbrun (left) and climbed to the top of the hill in the gardens behind it to admire the view, ate lunch at the Naschmarkt (a permanent market set up along the centre of a wide boulevard) and attended a Mozart concert to celebrate Fran’s birthday. Trying to squeeze in as much as we could on our final morning, we went to see the Spanish Riding School horses (Lipizzaners) being given their morning exercise, followed by a guided tour of the Opera House, before scampering back to our apartment to get our luggage and head for the train station. Here is the opera house at night.

The train trip to Zagreb was eventful! The alpine scenery was stunning - almost expected to see Julie Andrews running down the slopes. The train had several stops along the way where it changed engines. The first place was at Spielfeld Strass, where the lights went off in the whole train and stayed off . We travelled for the next 25 minutes in complete darkness - bizarre. When we got the next engine we had lights again while we travelled through Slovenia but they went off again as they changed engines at the Slovenia/Croatia border. It was there that things got scary. Still in complete darkness, on came the Slovenian passport control to check passports … with torches! They checked Fran’s passport and asked when she had arrived in Europe - 4 months before. They said we had a problem. Despite advice we received from the French Consulate in Sydney, the Slovanians said that non-EU citizens cannot stay in Europe for greater than 3 months in any six month period, even if they are married to a British citizen (which Adrian is because he has dual citizenship) unless they have a visa or a permit of residency. There was definitely a Gestapo-ish feel to the experience. Fran was concerned that she would be thrown off the train there and deported home. They eventually shrugged their shoulders and wandered off - not really wanting to detain a couple of Aussies who were about to leave their country anyway. Then, at the same station (new engine PLUS lights), it was Croatia’s turn for passport control so she had more nervous moments. But they were much more relaxed and the journey continued, albeit with an element of concern as to whether or not Fran would be allowed back into the EU. We arrived at Zagreb (although the station had no sign to indicate where we were) and the carriage lights went out again.

The hotel in Zagreb was appalling despite being quite expensive. On the next morning we wandered around for a few hours before collecting our car at the airport and heading to a B & B near Plitvice National Park - the photos speak for themselves.

Then on to Biograd Na Moru on the coast for one night before heading south to Dubrovnik. On the way we stopped at a restaurant recommended by our friends Phil and Gina who had discovered it when they were in Croatia last year. It was at Mali Ston, across the road from a lovely little harbour which was a very picturesque setting, and the seafood was delicious.

Our accommodation in Dubrovnik was in a guesthouse owned and run by Danica, a delightful and hospitable hostess. The view from her balcony was absolutely stunning, looking over the new port from high up on a steep ridge that runs beside the water. The old town of Dubrovnik is very interesting having been almost destroyed during the war and then being re-built. But there were hordes of tourists through the day all shuffling through the streets, having been offloaded from tour buses and huge cruise liners. So after a short time amongst the hordes, we bailed out, grabbed our swimmers and towels and jumped on a ferry to nearby Lokrum island - much more peaceful.

The next day we again opted for a day at one of the islands of the Dalmatian coast - Lopud, an island with no cars. Fellow ferry travellers told us that the best beach was on the other side of the island - Sunj beach - a fair walk and so we started off. We had only gone a short distance when a golf buggy which regularly transports tourists to Sunj stopped and offered us a ride. We were in the back seat facing backwards and hung on to a little pole as we went up and down hills (it was worth the 20 kuna each) although it was somewhat alarming to read the sign facing us - Falling off can cause injury or death.

On our final morning we walked the walls of Dubrovnik’s old town - a very worthwhile experience - and less crowded than the streets below. Danica insisted on knocking off from her work to come home and drive us to the address where we were to pick up our rental car. To our surprise there was no-one in the office and it was shut up. We eventually discovered that the car hire company had folded (!) and been taken over by Europcar. Somehow we managed to get a car - fortunately an ex-employee came to the office whilst we were wondering what to do and made a few phone calls on our behalf. We still don’t know how it happened, but some bloke drove up, told us to get in and he drove us to another rent-a-car office where they gave us a car along with the name of a colleague (Igor) to ring when we got to Zadar airport. Igor would come to collect the car. And that’s what happened - Igor arrived, waving wildly out of his car window as he drove up to meet us - smooth as silk. However, Travel Tip No. 7 - Hire from Hertz.

Split was our next destination - another historical place with a lively port and Roman ruins in evidence throughout much of the old town, including the substructure of Diocletian’s palace (Diocletian was the emperor from 385 - 404). Again we decided on a day trip to one of the islands - Brac, a 50 minute ferry trip which was recommended by the ex-Australian who served our breakfast. She was a friend of our B&B hostess. On Brac we had an hour’s bus ride to a little village on the other side of the island, called Bol. The water was crystal clear and not cold. The bus trip was at times a bit hair-raising with the road built into the side of the cliffs on what looked like slippery shale rock. Adrian sat on the window side on the way back and kindly refrained from detailing the sharp drops at the side of the road. It seems that Croatians don’t want to spoil the view and so don’t install guard rails on many of the curves. We liked this little tree that was growing out of the roof of this house.

Our last full day in Croatia we headed to Zadar for the night, stopping at the UNESCO heritage listed town of Trogir. There we visited the Cathedral, much smaller than others we had seen, obviously reflecting the size of the place when it was built. Not sure what the significance of skull and cross-bones are in Croatian Catholic icons, but Christ’s feet on the crucifix were atop a skull and there were other skulls and crossed bones in the church. One small room adjacent to the altar housed an amazing collection of golden and silver chalices, richly jewelled arm pieces, paintings, two leg bones displayed in glass cylinders (presumably, belonging to Saint someone - but he must have been quite short!) and ancient songbooks and prayer books dating back hundreds of years. All these priceless objects were just behind glass doors with no other security. We really enjoyed our stay in Croatia - they are such friendly and welcoming people.

Sunset on Croatia

The flight to Pisa from Zadar with Ryanair was smooth and quick - we departed early and the pilot had us there 50 minutes ahead of schedule - unheard of in Australia! The Italian passport control was uneventful and so we passed back into the EU without any hitches. Then a direct bus to Livorno for another night before boarding the huge Corsica ferry to Bastia on the north east coast. After collecting the car at the airport, some 20 km south, we returned to Bastia before heading north up the infamous Cap Corse, stopping at Erbalunga, a tiny village on the sea with a pretty harbour. Whilst Corsica is relatively small, the roads are winding and narrow with crazy motorcyclists, so we have decided to limit our travel to the north as we are here for 7 nights only.

On the road again

We had mixed feelings as we left Puy l’Eveque. We really enjoyed our time there and were able to welcome and host visits from both friends and family. Here is Fran’s French teacher Joseline at a farewell dinner we hosted.

We headed south towards Andorra stopping en route at Ax les Thermes, where we opted to spend our first night. It is a spa town and Fran enjoyed warming her feet in the therapeutic waters. The next day we headed towards Barcelona, driving through the majestic Pyrenees - the views were absolutely awesome, and we noted that one car had recently run off the road, as he was in the ditch and being assisted by the Spanish police. We were so high we felt like eagles soaring above the clouds. But if we thought that was high, there was more to come, as we opted to climb up to the dizzying heights of Montserrat monastery (right) before descending to Barcelona at the coast.

Barcelona is a fabulous city with so much to see and do. We enjoyed the hop on hop off bus but did not get off as the queues were long, so enjoyed three different routes -north and west, south and the beaches. Our accommodation was a 25 minute stroll from town and so we did lots of walking. Really enjoyed seeing both the outside and the inside of La Sagrada Familla (left) - what an amazing architectural construction. We also enjoyed a flamenco music and dance show, walking through the Barri Gothic (the old streets), the liveliness of La Rambla with its street performers (below) and some delicious paella.

The trip north back to France allowed some fabulous views of the Costa Brava (left). We had considered staying there, but opted instead for the pretty coastal town of Collioure (below) on the Cote Vermeille. We arrived on a Saturday night and even though it was not officially high season it was incredibly busy. The trouble with places like Collioure which are so picturesque is that they attract heaps of tourists - like us!. We spent a really enjoyable three nights there. However on the last morning, parking for breakfast, Adrian misjudged the kerb and ripped a chunk of rubber from the front right tyre which we only discovered about an hour later when we stopped to look at a beach. We were lucky enough to find a Citroen dealer but, of course, they had shut for siesta and were nor due back for 1.5 hours. So … we went for a swim. The sad tale ends with us having to buy two new tyres as they didn’t have one to match the other front tyre and the spare was only for temporary use.

Then on to Carcassonne, a medieval walled town 65 km from the coast. As we were heading east, it did mean that we had to backtrack, but it was worth it. It is particularly stunning at night although once again choc full of tourist shops and tourists. We walked the ramparts and then headed east towards Provence, through part the of the Camargue (unimpressive) and the Pont du Gard. Another stunning world landmark built by the Romans thousands of years ago, and used then as an aqueduct.

We headed to our little cottage in Entrecasteaux, primarily to collect the keys from one of our American landlord’s neighbours. Despite providing the time that we would be there, they had opted to go away for a holiday. The door was opened by a woman who looked at us with a puzzled expression when we started asking for keys. She and her sister, one from Germany (Mary) and one from Switzerland (Elvie) were staying there and knew nothing about the arrangements. After a phone call, all was resolved as the neighbours had left the keys in their house. They were amazed to hear of our travels and that we were coming back to stay for two months at the beginning of October. After sharing a cool drink and conversation involving English, French and German words we bid our farewells and drove around the corner to the town square where our cottage is situated. There, right outside our front door (as our landlord had mentioned) was Mme Corti, our next door neighbour and some other locals. When we explained that we were renting the house they picked up their chairs and took off!
They must have thought that we were very strange as we disappeared inside the cottage with stacks of luggage, unpacked it and sorted it (in an attempt to travel with half of our clothes etc) and left about an hour later, around 6:30 pm, still with luggage. Fran explained to Madame that we would return and that we were off to Vienna, Croatia and then Corsica. That night we drove as far as Frejus on the coast, leaving ourselves an easy 60 km trip to Nice airport.

Adrian and Fran after a hard day's sightseeing