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Published: November 30th -0001
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A Hilltop Castle
quite a few of these just popped up out of nowhere Our guide book says of France “The French have long lived according to their own idiosyncratic rules, and if the rest of the world doesn't see eye to eye with them, well,
tant pis (too bad)”. I can't say we'd really encountered this attitude so far but the 'too bad' attitude certainly prevailed on the road in the south of France. Talking about stupid people on the road is a dead horse flogged too much, so I won't bore with details, other than to say that horns were beeped, high beams were flashed and expletives were uttered....on my part, and as for the French....well they certainly lived up to their reputation, which only infuriated me more.
As I'd mentioned earlier, a pub and church seemed to confer village status in England, well in France it seemed a bakery and a Renault dealership marked the difference between a settlement and a village. As Lentil is a Renault, we felt that if ever we should need help, it wouldn't be too far away. As things go with old cars, we had a suspicion that the clutch was on it's last legs. We'd tried to be kind to it but did not want
St. Tropez Marina
sell all these and end world poverty? to left high and dry, waiting weeks for a part when it actually did go, so decided it would be prudent to get a clutch kit in France. We drove to Aix-En-Provence, the capital of the Provence region, and hunted down a dealership with a garage attached. They spoke close to no English (the thought occurred to me....how much French would an Australian mechanic know?), but we had come prepared wielding a scrap of paper with
embrayage scribbled on it. We then simulated us driving, going up a hill and the sound of the clutch slipping and they got the idea pretty quickly. As we had hoped, getting the clutch kit was no issue at all and we came back later that day to pick it up. It cost a small fortune of course, but it did afford peace of mind.
Having had a gallery drought since the rather unsuccessful (at least for Phoebe) visit to the Louvre, I requested that we go to the gallery in Aix-En-Provence, and it apparently contained pieces by Cézzane, Monet and Picasso. We kept Phoebe interested by describing some painting techniques, talking about the colours, and asking her to find shapes in the
paintings (it was all very modern art-like) but by the time we reached the Cézzane, Monet and Picasso she was getting ratty. For a child that wants to be an artist she's not quite at the appreciating art stage yet. Thankfully this place was a fraction of the size of the Louvre and we were able to exit not long after the key pieces had been viewed.
During this trip so far Nick and I had both read 'Tender Is The Night' by F. Scott Fitzgerald and both found it highly depressing (fantastic literature but not on my highly recommended list!). However, it did give us both a feel for the French Rivera, or the Côte d'Azur before we arrived there. The book was set in the 1920s, so actually what we'd got was a good feel for was the French Riviera long before mass development took place! However it was really great to be there, set eyes on the beautiful Mediterranean Sea, and consider the prospect of a beach frolic. As soon as we got there we went for a walk to eye all the luxurious yachts and boats moored at the very prestigious (hrm, pretentious) St. Tropez
Beautiful Red Cliffs of the Cote d'Azur
Nick got all the great views while I tried to avoid idiots! marina. That night we free camped next to a vineyard and then headed down to the beach nice and early. Happily for us, parking was free, and when we walked down the beach, past all the exclusive beach clubs with matching deck chairs and umbrellas, we found a spot of sand that was unoccupied, that is, we didn't have to pay to sit down! We enjoyed a few hours of sun, swimming, reading and making sand castles and while we did we tried not to feel like Beyonce, or Katie Holmes, or Kate Hudson but hey, we were on the beach at St. Tropez.
We curved our way along the coast, heading through Cannes, home of the Cannes Film Festival, and then Nice. From there we decided to relax our toll roads ban and pay the money to get the easy route over the Alps..... The road was an engineering feat, as it wound around mountains, but then through mountains in very long tunnels, and then between mountains on exceptionally high bridges. From one such bridge we had a great vantage point for viewing Monacco, complete with extensive marina and very flash houses. Soon enough we were in Italy!
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christine giles
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italians
Maybe a homestay with an Italian family.Phoebe would love their warmth.My birthday present to her x AC