Avant John, Avec John, Apres John
Day 4:
We continued on the Dordogne slow roads averaging about 30km an hour around hairpin turns and winding up and down valleys. We stopped at a wine co-operative and picked up several bottles of different wines from the region before making a rash afternoon decision to head quickly south to Carcassonne and into the south of france, enjoying the backdrop of the snow-capped Pyrenees mountains as we drove. We arrived in Carcassonne near dusk and headed into town for a quick look around, only to pace straight back to the car after about a block and locking the doors, the only other people on the streets being vagrants, drunks and men on the make. We headed up to the uplight forted castle on the hill which did look idyllic against the pink fading sky, and wandered the cobbled streets in search of gelato and a glass of wine.
Days Five and Six:
We continued on to Avignon through Nantes for a wander of the covered markets and Nimes for a picnic near the fountain and a walking tour of the monuments. We camped by the river in Avignon on the island across from the old forted city and decided to stay 2 nights to rest and be thankful after so much intense driving. Perfect sunny days, walks along the river, reading on the riverbank, meandering through the artistan clothes and crafts shops, gourmet chocolates and fudges, jazz and blues music to diversify our roadtrip soundtrack. Lunch in the central square was exsquisite and a goeey fondant dessert with caramel icecream truly worth writing home about – a perfect 10.
Day 7:
Our camping neighbour John, a 67 year old retiree from Lancashire, was packing up to leave the next morning and planning to “thumb it” to the south of France – without a moment hesitation I offered him a lift with us. We took the fast road to the coast and stopped in the fishing village of Cassis and enjoyed a sunny coffee, a forrage of the local patisserie and a walk around the marina. John was not happy here, or any of the next few places we stopped, being variously “too far out of town”, “too expensive”, “too much up a hill”, “too far from the train”, “not lively enough”, “too busy” etc. etc. We ended up finding a beachside town La Lavendou a few hours east of Nice and all camped there for the night, sharing a reasonably amicable sunset drinks at the marina.
Day 8:
We packed up early the next day for our slow coastal drive through to Nice. John, to our surprise, also packed up and invited himself along. As we drove out he then complained about how he could have really stayed in that lovely town for a week, but that he would really like to continue into Italy and Switzerland (subtext with us!) Kelly said we could take him as far as Nice. We accidentally got off the coastal road and had to negotiate a one lane wide, two way road, across a mountain range to get back. The view was spectacular and only one car passed us going the opposite direction. At the peak of the road I pulled left to the edge to take photos of the panorama of the coastline, a cyclist coming the opposite way was stopped doing the same thing. At this exact moment a garbage truck came rocketing up the hill to come nose to nose with our vehicle. A cacophony of beeping and arm gesticulating from both passengers of the truck hurried me to reverse back along the left side of the narrow road, which I had forgotten was the wrong side. When reminded I pulled violently to the right side almost knocking the cyclist off the cliff and roughly backing over an invisible 30cm ledge down into a parking space. The truck was able to pass easily and as he did I smiled sheepishly and gave a repeated thumbs up. I now have a vague recollection that this means something different in France, an ‘up yours’ type gesture, as the truck halted abruptly and the man closest started yelling so quickly I couldnt understand. All I could say was simply Je ne comprends pas, Je suis australienne, Je suis desolee (I dont understand, Im austrailan, Im sorry) to which he tutted annoyedly and sped off. We got back to the coast road soon enough and stopped in St Tropez for a sunny coffee on the marina. We continued into Cannes for lunch after 3pm and found everything closed. I personally escorted John to the tourist office to find the next possible camp ground to leave him at, it was 7km away and we left without eating desperate to desposit him outside of our lives. We transited through busy Nice to the next seaside village that had been recommended Villefranche Sur Mer, and booked into a top floor hotel room with a bath and an ocean view for some much needed replenishment. We enjoyed our solitude, and wandered aimlessly through the endearing old town and ate an overpriced but well enjoyed meal overlooking the lights of the peninsula.
Day Nine:
We got up luxuriously late and enjoyed croissants and pain au chocolats in bed across ocean views, before wandering the food market scoring olive tapenade, home made macaroons, chevre and comte cheese, a fresh baguette, fruit and veges for our onward journey. We drove on to Monaco to eyeball the casino and the wealthy who migrate there, and then onto the border town of Menton before deciding to cross into Italy.
Jyai
April 15th, 2011 at 8:36 am
Have you ditched the whinging John yet?
April 16th, 2011 at 12:06 pm
so that’s why our mothers told us never to pick up hitch-hikers…you can get whined to death!
April 19th, 2011 at 6:05 pm
YES – 2 of the longest days of my life – but lesson learnt – set boundaries and stick to them