Travel Diary 10.

Travel Diary 10

Travel Diary 10 eh! Never thought it would lead to this and so many and here we are only just over a quarter of the trip gone! Anyone would think I had kissed the Blarney Stone already. Maybe I should give it a miss when we get to Ireland?

Today’s Thursday 26^th May and we’ve had a change of plans. Initially we were going to go to Marseilles after leaving Avignon. But we have been havng consistent poor reports about Marseilles as a destination. Not one good one. And that is from local French people as well. So based on that, we decided to avoid it. It may turn out to be a bad mistake, but better sure than sorry.

Instead we left Avignon after having a wander around the main streets. Kerrie doing some practice shopping so as not let the skills go to waste. She came back armed with some new shoes which fit her perfectly and I came back 11E lighter from a visit to the Palaise du Papes. I believe both of us had a good time!

I cannot tell you much about the shoes except they are just what she wanted. So that’s good. And they look nice. Reasonably priced in a town where 400 – 500 Euros for a pair is not uncommon, I think she found them in a back room of discount shoe shop going broke! No … only joking. They are nice and I hope they solve her problems.

I discovered during my visit to Papes Palace, that I was wrong in some of my previous comments. Apparently the forst palace was built to house Kings of France in the early to mid 1200’s. Then when the Avignon got taken over politically by the Papes, they built a second Palace right beside and joined to the first one. Hard to pick the join marks – they were very good at hiding such things and all the mud coloured cement looks the same age now.

The difference is that the Papes kept excellent records. Well the two most influencial did.That is the two guys who oversaw the building of the second Palace. So it has ended up well recorded and is a rather large ediface. Complete with Chapels and huge rooms that used to have painted ceilings and walls to keep the Papes reminded of what life was like on the outside and more importantly some of their religious symbols and beliefs.Some of these murals can still be seen today. Along with  “No photos thankyou!” signs everywhere.

Once we were packed and I should mention that arriving, settup and packing up are now routine and fairly quickly done. Daily practice makes perfect!

Once packed we decided to go to a little hilltop town about 29kms from Avignon and pretty much in the right direction. It’s called Gordes. Probaly has a population of about 2,000 and is one of those villages perched on top of a high ridge with views all around and up and down a large flat valley. This in turn is bounded by a long massif of mountainous crags and cliffs on the eastern side and the foothills of the Apls on the other. Unbelievabl fertile as I guess you’d expect a river valley to be.

On the drive there we passed numeros road side stalls selling all manner of fruit and vegetables. Until in the end we stopped at one and bought freshly picked ripe strawberries, cherries, some asparagus for dinner and a courgette or two. We tossed up on the artichokes, but decided to give them a miss!  Got them in olive oil anyway! What a delighful taste to buy plant ripened food for a change. Takes me back to my boyhood.

We eventually turned off and started to climb a narrow twisting road dodging cars and motorbikes coming down the hill. Got about 1km short of the top and wanted to get a photo or two but as usual, no where to park the van. Stuffed around for a bit backwards and up and down and then spotted one just vacated so that two spaces beside each other were clear. Made a beline for them and just won the race against some not happy other competitors! Took our photos and as we walked back noticed that a French lady had decided that if she backed her car into the space ahead of us and left her bumper about 300mm in front of the van, she would be sweet – enough room for her to get out!

Fortunately, I caught her in time and suggested she move the offending vehicle so I could get out. After much huffing and waving of arms and some muttered unintelligble French she moved it. I piled into the van and just missed her car as I pulled out. Closer than I needed to, but I wanted to make a point. I was also very kind as I smiled at her as we drove off.

Another kilometre and then the traffic started. I soon relaised this was a decent sized tourist attraction. In the centre ville, is a small roundabout guarded by a policeman who has nothing much to do as the area around the roundabout and side roads were full of stalls selling expensive tourist stuff under the guise of locally produced and made. While it probably was, the locals paid a hell of a  lot less for it!

We wended our way around the roundabout, and it was nearly a further two kilometers before we could turn around and we eventually found a parking spot for the princely sum of 8 Euros. A security guard was collecting fees at the gate in between updating his Facebook page. Can’t blame the locals I Suppose, got to make a living and make everything work for you!! Even miles from civilisation as we know it!

Spent an hour and a half there taking a few photos and trying various yummy cheese that come I all colours and flavours – green (basil), yellow(don’t know), red (tomatoe), grey (don’t know) and a couple of others. Bought some of the green one which is delicious. Has Basel and a crushed nut or seed of some sort through it. Great on it’s own or with bread and vegemite! And a red wine of course!

Then back onto the road. We made good time across the valley floor and then struggled up the winding narrow road up the other side. I say narrow and winding … mmm, that isn’t the half of it. My right hand wheels were not on the road and my left hand wheels were sittign astride the centre when we past oncoming traffic. Kerrie helping by telling about the trees and lamposts we either hit or just missed or how far down it was ot the bottpm which of course was on her side of the van going up. I wasn;t worried about that in the slightest as I couldn’t see it and was not about to look as yet another switchback appeared in front of me! If we went around one we went around about 150 consecutive ones! One after the other! Then hooray, we hit the top. No stopping here, crawled through a small village on the crest known as Cadenet whose only claim to fame is a flash looking restaurant. Empty of course.

Then started downwards. More switchbacks and this time the drop was on my side. I still never saw it as I was too busy concentrating on where my wheels were in relation to the centre of the road and I wasn’t budging!

Sometime later, we flattened out somewhat and a more small villages appeared. We stopped in one and had a quick look at Google Earth  to find a local campsite. The nearest one was about 32kms away in a town off the main drag at a place called Brignoles.

I have no idea why it exists. But I can tell it offers little in the way of attraction because the campsite said it all. Apart from one other van, we were the only ones there. Only two toilets and showers on offer for the entire site which boasts some 28 pitches. The buildings were old and decrepid having being patched and repatched and even the new paint which appears spadmodically was beginning to peel off. Still we did see some interesting things. On the pitch over from us was a huge amount of cotton wool - all over the gournd. Excep it wasn’t cotton wool it was the fallen flower of a local tree with some unprouncible name. Not even sure if it was Latin or french. But this stuff sure looks like cotton wool and behaves like it too when stretched and pulled!

The next morning, after a slow start we drove to St Tropez at the southern end of the Riviera. St Tropez was a tiny fishing village until Bridget Bardot bought a property here raised it’s profile somewhat. Then the paparazzi moved in. Then other wealthy people moved in and today it is a middling village with exhorbitant prices for everything including breathing.

On the plus side, the relatively new harbour protects some unbelieveable yachts. See the photos of St Tropez and you will see what I mean. So much money tied up in these things and I must admit, they do look fantastic. I’d be happy with one of the tenders used to run people to shore from those yachts that are too big to get into the harbour. Even they have to be cost close to a couple of hundred thousand. The entire area to e seen or to go looking at others, is on the three sides of the harbour. Just three rows of cafes and shops selling touristy momentoes. Mind you in a few of the cafes, the white leather seating looked very comfortale. And Yes, I do mean white leather seating!

Even the people sitting omun the leather looked upmarket. Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewellery wrapped about bronzed young ladies arms and necks and long lean legs on display while their much older male escorts display grey hair and open necked shirts and pretend that everything is cool, including them. I guess it is if you have that much money!!  But there is an awful lot of posing going on!

We moved onto finding the campsite I’d planned to stay at but instead found ourselves going down longish driveways through grape vines and dirt tracks. We did come across a couple of grounds, but the owners or managers wer having lunch and did not want to be disturbed, so ignored us. We ignored them in return and drove on. It is a common thing for camp sites to close for about 2-4 hours during the middle of the day and getting served or even finding anyone can be an issue and more to the point, some of them do not like you arriving during those hours. However, I am not going to run our trip around their opening hours!!

Our search for a site took us further and further in the wrong direction and when we saw that the next site was a further 20 minutes away and stuck in the hills, we called it quits and turned around. There are no camp sites near St Tropez itself and the closest ones are about 15-20kms away with no bus or trains one can catch. Besides, after walking around the harbour and doing the looking at as opposed to being looked at, what else is there to do except sit on a leather seat and pay over the top for a coffee?

So based on that logic, we headed North. We quickly realised that the Riviera is quite small. Just a series of small bays, some as little as 100 meters across and only a couple of places of decent size. The entire coastline is built up with houses and apartments that start at around 1,000,000 Euros, private beaches and no go areas and cafes and shops in each of the now joined together villages. These villages used to be small fishing places until it became fashionable to holiday here. Today they all run in together and I guess many of the original locals have moved out, unable to compete with rising prices and the imported wealth.

However, I say that the place deserves its reputation for being pretty. The water is clear and unpolluted from what we saw and a beautiful blue. The beaches themselves are either very rocky or have smallish areas of sand on which we saw a few girls sunbaking or older people sitting chairs fully dressed reading or gazing at the ocean. Occasionally we saw a fisherman on a rocky headland and in each port there are millions of dollars worth of large yatchs. The supply of these yachts appears endless!

Interestingly there is little hinterland. From the beach to the beginnings of the stark hills behind may be as little as 100 meters in some places and it is only where there is a smallish river valley that there is any flat land for development. And develop it they have. Large apartment blocks, canals, the odd golf course, shops, more shops and cafes. A couple of camping grounds in southern Cannes and that about covers it all.

After an hour of driving with occasional stops for photo taking, we arrived in La Napoule and went for a walk, coffee and sight see. Interesting little place bordering the southern part of Cannes, with a man built harbour and not much else. I saw a shop advertising “International Newspapers” and wondered if he had any English ones. So I walked up to the owner who appeared to be opening up. I found out immediately I opened my mouth that it wouldn’t matter even if he did have English newspapers, he was not the slightest interested in selling me any because he was closing up for lunch and staying to serve me would hold him up! From the tone of his voice, I knew that there was no way that was going to happen. So, with a shake of my head I moved on! No news catch up today!!

On the way down to the marina, we heard a voice calling Peter! Kerrie! I turned around to see this lady running up to us with a grin all over her face. It took me a second to recognise her .. she was the lady we met in Bilbao, Spain a few weeks ago and who lives in Burnpengary about 5kms away from our home in Brisbane. Talk about a small world!!

Anyway we mentioned we were about to look for a camp ground and she said they had already found one and it was nice and gave us directions. We agreed to meet later on that night for a drink .. yeah, of red of course!!

The directions were simple enough, over the bridge, turn left and then take the first street on the left. The camp ground was on this road. We drove off and missed the turn just over bridge. I had seen it come up and there was no way we could turn into it. So we had to drive a couple of kms away to find a left hand turn and then another couple of kms to find somewhere quiet enough to do a four point turn and go back.

This time we were successful and turned right! Down the road around a couple of roundabouts just there to keep us in practice and turned into the first street on the left. About 200m down was the camping ground so in we go, checked in and got settled.  Nice place, smallish, lovely staff and an attractive little restaurant with outdoor seating at small tables.

Once settled I decided to see if the other Australians had checked in and where their van was. The staff at the reception had no idea of what I was talking about and in the end I gave up and we decided just to wait. We filled in the rest of the day with a bit of a wander and then reading and some rest. The picture of Kerrie standing in front of the swimming pool is from this site as are the ones of the canals and apartments. But the Aussies never showed. Turned out they were at another campsite which is located on the second turn left, not the first!!

That night we decided to lash out and eat at the restaurant. Boy … were we glad we did. The Frenchman there was a chef and made us the most amazing tasting fish dish with a small side salad. Kerrie and I tried to work out what was in the sauce and we think we got everything except one thing we could not identify. Tarragon? No … some other herb… but which one?

The next morning, after constantly looking at each other and saying what a great meal last night, I went up and asked the Chef what was missing. He pulled out the bag of a herb I have never come across before. Went and got Kerrie and she and I tried a smallish piece each. Not much smell, but has a faint aniseed/liquorice taste to it. Very subtle but wow, what a difference it made. I do not remember what it was called however I think Kerrie wrote it down. Don’t know if it is available in Australia and mentioned this to the Frenchman who promptly offered to give us some root stock to take home!! Generous to a fault, but I doubt Australian Customs would have been too impressed!

We left the next morning with a lovely memory, to keep us going through another day of winding around the northern reaches of the Riviera. Destination, Italy, just north of Monaco, on the beach! Yep a couple of days here will be good. Visit Monaco, Monte Carlo and maybe Nice and surrounds.

More about that later!!