Wednesday 30 September - Laroques des Alberes

Another day off today. Still fine weather, though like many mornings it was a bit overcast, with the sun burning off the cloud by mid-day. Last night was quite a hoot as for the first time we had a parliament of owls (yes I looked up the collective noun) talking to each other. There were at least three - it is odd as we hadn’t heard them at all before now but they were making a fair racket.

We repeated our walk of a few days ago, though in the opposite direction today. It takes spot on an hour for the 6km. Into town for the daily bread, then back to our house for reading, blog and Karen for a number of hours working on her book.

Tuesday 29 September - Villefranche de Conflent

[Photos: Les Orgues, Prades Square, Villefranche de Conflent door, buildings and anvil, Lunch, Mt Michel du Cuixa Abbey]

 

A really good trip out today. We headed off to Villefranche de Conflent, an old walled town with a special train up into the Pyrenees. Attractive scenery on the way, lots of rolling countryside and grape vines everywhere. Karen had read about some eroded rock formations called Les Orgues (they look like pipe organs apparently) near Illes sur Tet, so that's where we went. Found them a little way off the road, but a big tour bus had pulled up, and they were quite expensive. We'd seen some formations from the road on the way in, so we just left, heading uphill, to see what we could see by ourselves. A good move. We passed some amazing formations, and found a lookout overlooking Les Orgues anyway – we thought our formations were just as good. The French landscape has been a lot greener that we expected.

 

But the best bit was the little road we found ourselves on heading towards Villefranche. It was very narrow, but not in a vicious way like the Italian roads which have no verge, just a choice of a rock face or a drop. This road had a small verge both sides, and the hills were rolling, so the banks beside the road were not so threatening. It was a lovely drive. Passed through a little village or two, some nice winding sections and finally back down to the main valley we had turned off. There were some incredibly brutal slopes which had once been terraced. Land must have been at a real premium at some time, but is now no longer so vital. Where we came down there was a horrible man-made half-empty reservoir, with the surface of the water a bright green from algae or waterweed. Some ducks were making amazing trails across it as we watched. Passed some odd beehive-shaped stone structures in some fields, but of course we passed a few before we thought to take a photo, and there were no more to see.

 

Next stop was Prades. We hadn't really intended to stop there, but knew it was market day so we parked and wandered down the main street for a look. The market there is a beauty. Goes right through the main square, out into an adjoining square, and even spills into side streets. Very popular, and thankfully mostly locals at it. The people here are fascinating. It reminded us of Golden Bay. There were plenty of hippies with dreadlocks and orange cotton clothing. Men with earrings and long hair, more beards than we've seen anywhere else, women with tie-died tops and long skirts. It must be a bit alternative here. After a tour of the market, we stopped off in the main square under some lovely low spreading plane trees for a coffee and some people-watching. A most attractive scene, and a perfect location. There was a very French-looking man with a perfect de Gaulle moustache just near us, and we got a great smile and a wave when we met him at Villefranche later.

 

We are getting more of an idea about what sort of place we would be interested in living in. The big cities clearly are not our thing – they are often too sterile and unfriendly. We've decided that the little villages like Ceriana are not for us either. The choice of things to do, places to eat at, butchers and bakers, and people to meet are just too limited. These mid-range towns like Setes (probably quite large but the centre ville is compact) and Prades seem to offer a whole lot more. However, some places just have the right feel and some don't. The tourist towns on the whole don't do it for us, as they have become too similar and sterile. It's the places where the town square has people sitting around chatting, and the oldies are out on their plastic chairs just nattering, that appeal.

 

And as for our choice of country, my ideas of French food and French people have had a good shake-up. The French we have come into contact with have been delightful, helpful and plain ordinary friendly. Maybe Parisians are rude, but that doesn't matter here down south. And the food I had read about in travel books with cream sauces and very rich, isn't what we have seen down south. The bread here is so tasty compared to the heavy-crusted Italian equivalent, and with all the nice things to put on or in bread, that is really important.

 

Speaking of food, we drove the 8km to Villefranche de Conflent and decided to lunch there, at a café decorated with firefighting equipment. As the night-time choices in Laroques appear to be either prohibitively expensive, or just over-priced and very ordinary, we thought we'd eat a good meal for lunch. We chose two different platters of tapas at 5 and 6€. Our first tapas, and judging from Round 1, it will clearly not be our last. We both got an assortment of olives, omelette, prosciutto, little spiced pork ribs, cheese, beetroot in sauce, wee bowls of fish in sauce, and bread. Absolutely delicious and filling.

 

The town itself is entirely contained within walls built in the Middle Ages and extended and improved in the mid 1700s by the French trying to protect themselves from the Catalans. The ever-active engineer Vauban helped with the defences, and had a great fort (Fort Liberia) built on the hill above it. It is another village with a number of resident artists, and many of the buildings along the main two streets are full of interesting things. As always, we loved some of the massive doors of the town.

 

We paid our entrance fees and headed through the maze of the ramparts. Because the town is overlooked, the top of the wall is entirely under the cover of a big slate-topped wooden roof, and there are any number of little turrets and lookout points, and sticking out bits from which the inhabitants can repel people attacking the walls. Rather poorly sign-posted with the trail looping back on itself a number of times, and then returning along some of the same route. One highlight was a massive water-powered forge, with a massive wooden driveshaft with pawls lifting and dropping a brutal iron hammer. We thought that the Vauban fort at Entrevaux was made much more interesting by showing some of the inhabitants rooms, Villefranche could have done the same but hadn't. Villefranche is one of those tourist towns that is clearly very touristy, but has somehow managed not to lose its identity and character. We loved it.

 

Time was marching on however, and there were abbeys to see on the way back. First was St-Michel de Cuixa, founded around 1000AD, forcibly emptied in 1790 during the Revolution, largely collapsed and pillaged, and was renovated in the 1950s. Went through the crypts, a beautiful cloister much of which is in New York for some reason, then the huge and largely bare church. These bare churches can be even more impressive then the highly decorated ones like the one in Prades where every side niche was a separate and vastly ornate chapel.

 

We were hoping to see the priory of Serrabone, but would have arrived very close to closing time so had to give it away. Another time maybe. Back home after 6pm, having had a really good day out, and having learnt a lot about what we like and don't like. We are comfortable about our decision on Ceriana – the building would have been good, we would have enjoyed the process and the result, but the town itself is probably just a bit grim. The places today with tree-filled squares and a bit more sunshine have been so much more cheerful, something you can't really accuse Ceriana of being.

 

The 10pm bells have just chimed. They chime every full hour (one ding/dong per hour e.g. 9 times at 9am and 9pm) and once at the half-hour. Not only that but in case you missed them, they repeat at 5 past. This happens right through the night as well!!!

Monday 28 September - Laroques des Alberes

[Photos: Cork oak after harvest, View of Roussillon area]

 

Thought we’d be good today and go on a good fast walk. We are aware we have been slacking about compared to our normal fitness efforts, but somehow when you are away overseas, the motivation just isn’t there the same. Funny that.

 

Headed out our back garden gate towards the Alberes Massif. This is the last part of the Pyrenees before they dip down into the sea. We soon found ourselves going against the flow of some red dayglo arrows on the ground, starting at “5km” and heading backwards. Rather than heading up the hill, the route took a track back into Laroques, but we thought that a 5km walk would be fine so we followed it through the outer suburbs until it came back to the town centre. Suburbs is a word deliberately chosen. Up in the hilly part of the track, there were lots of cork oaks, some having had their bark stripped. For some reason, they are only stripped to about chest height despite the trunks often having plenty of good bark (i.e. cork) above that. We imagine it takes very many years for the bark to regrow, but when it does, it is much smother than the original cropping.

 

The centre of Laroque is not very old, and not very large. Most of the residents live a bit further out in detached or semi-detached houses, mostly quite modern. The streets are very pretty-pretty, with nice tidy footpaths and manicured lawns. Not our idea of what a French town should look like, or feel like. It is certainly attractive enough, but is very little different to any leafy suburb anywhere in the world, except that the weather is warm and dry over the UK summer! There is even plastic grass beside the main square. Looking out at the top of our walk, towns like this are dotted around the foothills.

 

We thought we’d have a dinner out for a change, though not at the original restaurant. We tried another on the main square that looked a bit more reasonable. The price was OK, and the menu looked OK, but the food when it came out was rather ordinary. My squid rings came with salad and chips, and Karen’s chicken came in an average sauce, with peas and rice. Not gourmet fare by any means. We will confine our eating out to lunches at places we go to. I guess that is the issue with a town which has been invaded by foreigners to the exclusion of locals. All but one table last night were foreigners, including another large group of Irish.

Sunday 27 September - Collioure

[Photos: Collioure town & Market. Catalan dancing]

 

 Market day in the coastal town of Collioure is Sunday, so we packed our car and headed down to the coast. We arrived around 10am, and were the last car through the market area before it was closed off to traffic. The market was in full swing in the main square under the lovely big trees. Dozens of stalls with an emphasis on food, which is nice after some of the other markets we have been to where they are full of Chinese junk, or cheap handbags.

 

We started off with a doughnut-shaped bread, which was aniseed flavoured and delicious. We weren’t really shopping, rather just enjoying the variety of produce and noting the variations in what is for sale here compared with elsewhere. There was one cart with 3 massive pans of food, each near a metre across. The paella looked scrumptious, being full of giant prawns, mussels, cockles and more. We made a mental note of its location for a potential lunch, but by then it had all gone.

 

The clothing stalls were good. The clothes on offer were a cut above other locations, being a bit smarter and more interesting. A nice white sundress caught my eye, not for me I might add.

 

We came across Valerie and Lorcan walking through the market, and again later on with some more Irish friends of theirs, Mary and Joe. There were plenty of tourists about, although they were more holidaymakers than tourists, if there’s a difference. At least the French well outnumbered the foreigners, which we prefer. The town has a very cheerful atmosphere. The shops were very good, with many smart fashion shops, at very good prices for the end of summer. Many were 30% off. Found a Vanuatu mask like the ones we brought back, for substantially less than we paid in Vanuatu which is of course crazy. At another shop we found a green dress for Karen – it seems to be her day here.

 

The waterfront is bright and cheery here, with good beaches and plenty of sunbathers – couples, singles and families. Back from the beach are plenty of cafes, and still more along the short canal which joins the sea. The mood and dress of the shoppers seems a lot more relaxed than say the Italian Riviera, and far more so than the French Riviera which is definitely too flash for our liking. We felt right at home in our normal travelling-style gear, though by now Karen was in her new dress. We had a bit of spare time before a Catalan dance display in the afternoon, so wandered around the coast towards the next town, but it was too far and we had to turn back.

 

The dance was not yet ready, so we went out to a point where we could look back on Collioure, then returned to see the dancing. It just isn’t my thing. I group it with synchronised swimming or rhythmic gymnastics without the little thrill that someone might drown, or drop a hoop. The costumes were pretty (I suppose) but the dancing was very slow and stilted, not a lot of emotion involved.

 

We escaped and spent a few minutes watching a rugby match at a ground near our car park before heading back.

Saturday 26 September - Border Towns

[Photos: Supermarket wine section, Our loot]

 

Valerie and Lorcan had told us that booze prices were very good just over the border in Spain, so we felt it only sensible that we checked this out. We were indeed running a little low on essentials anyway.

 

Off we went by GPS. It isn't very far to the border, under 20km or about the same as Nelson to Richmond. The roads are very good, though some of the intersections are pretty curly. We'd hate to be doing this by map. There would be many roundabouts you took several circuits on while the navigator sorted out which of the many exits was correct. Found our way to the border and shot straight through it, much the same as the France/Italy border. Again just a set of dying and empty buildings where the border control used to take place.

 

The first Spanish town is La Jonquera. It is appalling. Just a series of gas stations, booze barns, supermarkets and tacky shops selling low quality rubbish. The French come in by tour bus, to be dropped at the bigger barns to stock up on grog. The southern French favourite aperitif is 45% proof anis, which is sold in these barns in packs of up to six 1.5 litre bottles, and there were plenty of takers. The French hop off the bus, have a meal in one of the many cheap buffets, then commandeer a shopping trolley which they stuff full of booze to take back home. Most would have had a full carton of spirits, many two cartons.

 

I shouldn't be rude about them, we were just the same, though at least we had the excuse we were stocking up in anticipation of Sandy & Lynette arriving. We got a reasonable selection of anis, limoncello, wine, beer, and more mundane things like milk, cheese and yoghurt. Yes, prices were good. A bottle of anis was around 7-10€/litre depending on the brand, Ricard then 51 topping the list. These are the two brands which all the bars stock. A very depressing experience. It is a tired sleazy place.

 

Back we went across the border into the French town of Le Pertus, which is a slightly better version of the Spanish town, but not a lot better. Fluked a park on the main road close by and bought a few bits for lunch, had a look around the shops then mercifully escaped back towards home. There were some good cheap vege shops beside the road, and we managed to restock with pineapple, melons and the normal tomatoes and eggplant. One of the shops had perhaps twenty giant barrels of port, sherry and all manner of other forms of grog, all sold at the same low price into BYO plastic containers.

 

Afternoon by the pool, though the odd cloud causing problems. It's a tough life.

Friday 25 September - Laroques des Alberes

[Photo: Laroque's tower from our bedroom]

 

As planned, we stayed at home today. Had a bit of a wander around to see what we could find. There isn’t much to look at here. We took ourselves up to the tower at the top of the town, which is undergoing some work on its approaches. It is about the only place in town that isn’t already gentrified.

 

Bought our daily bread – there is no way you can use yesterday’s bread for anything other than hammering nails – even by evening it is suffering from terminal dryness.

Thursday 24 September - Laroques des Alberes

[Photo: Pool at Laroque]

 

Given all the driving we had done, we thought a day or two off would do us good, so we didn’t go anywhere. Our hosts got themselves organised and off to one of their flats in Collioure by mid-morning. We settled in for a day around the pool, and put some solid work in on our tans which have not really been added to since the day on the beach at Bussana, Italy.

 

The pool it would have to be said is not particularly hot. The thermometer in it says a shade over 22, but we think it might be reading low as it doesn’t feel too cold. We can stay in as long as we like without getting cold.

Wednesday 23 September - Aigues-Mortes, Sète, Laroques des Alberes

[Photos: Aigues-Mortes town and shop, Sete, Dinner with our hosts]

Up for our first included breakfast after the plane trip. Standard French fare of juice, hot drink, bread and jam. I'm afraid it doesn't cut it for us compared with milk and cereal – it always seems inadequate to start the day with. Again, very pleasant hosts.

Into town after 9am to have a look around the town walls. The houseboats on the Canal du Midi look like a very pleasant way to spend time in Europe. Most have a number of bikes on board, and some even have a small motorboat or a motorbike.

The tour round the walls – all 1650 metres of them – didn't open until 10am, and we were supposed to be out of our room by 11am, so we knew it was going to be a rushed circuit, so we started by having a coffee in the main square! A plain espresso is always cheap, and Karen is forgoing her normal cappuccinos as they are so overpriced. Looked around the town until 10am. The shops here are stunningly presented. Produce and goods are laid out with great care – it must be a tradition of the town as all the shops were attractive. We were away on our tour promptly as soon as the ticket office opened. It was an excellent tour starting with the Constance Tower, then the circuit of the walls – lots of very good signboards telling us about everything, why it was there, how rooms were used and so on. Unfortunately not enough time to digest it all. Really quite frustrating, but I photographed the boards for later perusal.

We were a bit surprised to find we had some 300km of driving left before the Pyrenees. We haven't had any decent road maps of anywhere we've been, and have been relying on the GPS. It is pretty clever, and we can type in destinations to see how far and how long to get to places. We decided to visit Sète, as we had read about it back in New Zealand, and it is on the end of one of the big canals. The landscape gradually became more and more flat, then quite marshy. Lots of rice fields, growing a particular purplish rice which features on the local menus. Sète was a good choice, as we found it a most attractive town. Quite large, but utterly French and non-touristy. The more we travel, the more we find like the places where damn foreigners haven't made too much impact. Parked near the port end, and walked in over a couple of wide canals, their banks lines with hundreds of small boats, and a few larger fishing vessels, some with smaller fishing boats piggy-backed on board.

It must have been market day, or maybe it was a permanent market selling all kinds of produce. Bought bread for lunch, also a few veges and some evil-looking super-mouldy Roquefort blue-vein cheese for later. Really found Sète a town to our liking. The scale was nice, the variety of people and shops was good, and the setting on the canals topped it off nicely. Were a little sad to be on our way again, heading for a shady place to have lunch. Much to our surprise we came across a vast long Mediterranean beachfront of gold sand and well-scattered people. We parked up and ate our normal bread-based lunch looking out over the sea. A very odd sight as we were leaving the beach – hundreds of large camper vans lined up along the beach off into the distance.

On the final leg of our trip now to the Pyrenees for our 3-week exchange. We texted our hosts part way, but for some reason the text never arrived. No problem finding the house as I had located the house on Google Earth and plugged the exact co-ordinates into the GPS. Arrived to a warm welcome just after 5pm, unpacked the car and sat down for a glass of wine on the balcony. Valerie was going to cook a meal for us, but decided it was easier to take us out to dinner, which they did at their favourite restaurant. Very nice, but wickedly expensive by our standards. We worked our way through some seafood and aubergine/goat-cheese appetisers, steak and duck for mains. Prices a bit serious for us, e.g. 12€ for 3 slices of cheese and bread. Final bill was around the 200€ mark, obviously not unusual as there is another place they go to that ends up at 100€ per person. I can see us eating in here most nights! The benefits of a GB Pound versus a NZ Dollar.

Valerie and Lorcan have been here for 6 years, having been in Collioure on the coast since 1999. They are ex mushroom farmers, and have 2 children, and one grandchild. They don't really speak French, which seems a bit surprising considering how long they have been coming here. The British do appear to prefer to keep to themselves, rather than become part of the overall community.

Tuesday 22 September - Aix-en-Provence

[Photos: Aix-en-Provence, Parking, Camargues road]

Having seen enough of the gorges, we headed south into the Camargue. A dramatic change in the landscape from rugged vertical faces to rolling green country, and an increase in wine plantings. Our plan was to head to Aix-en-Provence, where we were going for a general look around and to see if the Picasso museum was open. Found ourselves a park not too far from where we thought the centre boulevard was, then picked up a big fat toasted roll, really a long hamburger, from a place that was clearly a student café. We were in luck with the Picasso. The museum was said to be closed on Tuesdays, but it wasn't, and what's more, it was in the final week of a big exhibition exploring the relationship between Picasso and Cezanne. For some obscure reason, we had to go several hundred metres away to buy tickets, then come back and wait until our ticket's entry time came round.

The exhibition was excellent, hundreds of Picasso and Cezanne paintings and sculptures in four major themes looking at how the two interacted. Glad we managed to find it open. Were running out of time on our parking ticket, but managed to find one of what seem to be only two internet cafes in Aix, weird in a city of 100,000+. Connected by cable, but for some reason couldn't send out, and the owner was a grumpy git who had no interest in helping us. Unusual, as we have found the French absolutely fine, as helpful as can be and cheerful. A far cry from our memories of Paris, admittedly 27 years ago. Finished our visit to Aix with a quick wander along the boulevard, then back to our car, where a little SmartCar had snuck into the smallest gap behind us, and off to Aigues-Morts. Some perfect roads lined with massive plane trees on our way.

We were last there in 1982, when we had been intrigued by the perfect walls. Strangely, we had no memories of the canals that lead to it, and the houseboats and other vessels that would surely have been there last time round. No luck finding accommodation in the town, as the two places we tried were not answering their door, so jumped back in the car to try just outside the walls. Came across a nice place, very reasonable at 42€ with petit dejeuner, so accepted and headed back to town for a meal. The specialty of the area is taureau or bull, generally in a rich sauce. The central square of Aigues-Mortes is covered in large restaurants, all touting for trade at this slow end of the season. All of them had reduced prices on their menus. The meal was good, though not memorable, and we went back through the dark to our room.

Monday 21 September - Gorges du Verdon

[Photos: Gorges du Verdon (3), Room at Moustiers, Moustiers (2), Aperitifs

Slept really well. Were going to use the internet this morning, but the prices were either 2 or 3€ per ¼ hour, more than we thought worthwhile, so it had to wait again. It will be nice in the Pyrenees when we have it on tap. It would be very useful for working out where to go and what to do, as the books only go into so much detail.

Bought a big French bread, a flute, for a picnic lunch somewhere in the gorge. We picked a bit of a route through the Gorges du Verdon, though the maps and books we have are pretty useless and not at all clear. There are many possible ways through, and the ultimate is a 140km loop which is way too far for us. The gorge is the deepest in Europe, and is very stunning. There is a lot of vegetation, mostly decent sized trees, and where it is smaller, it is all changing to oranges and scarlets.

Our first stop was the Belvedere de Samson, where we went for a walk up a smaller side gorge. Unfortunately the track started going through tunnels. The first was straight, and there was enough reflected light to see, but the second must have had bends in it, as it was pitch black only a few metres in, and we had to abandon the attempt. Next was a drive up to Point Sublime for a great view over part of the gorge. Just above that was the little village of Rougon, where we sat on a rock and had a picnic lunch looking back over the valley and the alpine meadows. It is very alpine here, quite harsh land and becoming more and more rocky the higher up we go.

The best part started as we went deeper in, following the Routes des Cretes. A little hard to work out where we were, and what roads to follow as they didn't seem to match the crude map we had picked up. It started with a climb through attractive valleys, with a number of holiday campgrounds, clearly closed for the season by now. Higher up we started to follow the rim of the gorge, with frequent stopping points and magnificent view down into the brutal canyons. I don't know how many hundred metres down the canyon went, but perhaps 500? It is odd rock here, composed of bands of hard rock interspersed with bands of crumbly rubbish. It gives the hills an odd stripy appearance, and in places the folds are incredible, sometimes tilting a full 90 degrees. The trees populate the slightly less vertical bits, and are a mix of deciduous and somewhat stunted pines.

We kept leapfrogging a pleasant German couple in a BMW wagon at stop after stop. Each stop had something different to see. At one place we spent a while watching a French couple doing a climb on a smooth rockface. This area is the Queenstown of France, with rock-climbing, parapenting, rafting and more. We have a vague feeling that we didn't get on the road we wanted to, but I'm sure it didn't matter.

We were aiming for the small town of Moustiers Saint Marie, hoping to have a look at it then head for two nights to Aix-en-Provence. Got there fine, about 4pm. Found from a map that there is Europe's best prehistoric museum just south of here, but it closed at 6pm, and we wouldn't be able to spend long enough there, so decided to look for a place to stay. The town was really beautiful, with old buildings, wells, public wash fountains and more. The first place didn't answer their door or cellphone, but the second, the L'Escalo chambre d'hote (suspiciously like a pension), spoke through their crackly intercom and let us in. A gorgeous room, full of character and old furniture. Hummed and haa'ed long enough for the price to drop from 59 to 45€ - presumably as it is now off-season.

Found a parking spot near enough, and lugged our gear in, then went for a good climb up to an old church in a gully above the town. Great views out and down to the town below. We stopped off for a pre-dinner aperitif at one of the bars, Karen having a beer and me a pastis (the French version of raki or ouzo). Like Turkey and Greece, the aniseed flavoured drinks are the cheapest thing on the menu for some reason – only 1.80€ here versus 3€ and up for a beer. I like the strong flavour, and will have to buy some more somewhere. We took ages having our drinks, just enjoying the life of the village. Full of tourists here, but the village has retained its flavour unlike some places. Went off to dinner to have the local daube or stew, and fish. OK, not spectacular.

Sunday 20 September - Entrevaux, Castellane

[Photos: A station, Our train, Entrevaux Citadelle, Gates, Square, Village, A walkway, Fountain, Miro, Giacometti, Fondation Maeght, Castellane]

A really good day today, made up for yesterday which was a waste. Packed up the car, left it opposite the St Martin du Var railway station, and jumped on the funny diesel 2-carriage Train des Pignes, named after the pine cones that the original steam version used as fuel. We had a good 3 minutes to spare. A bit of a rude shock – the guard gave us the over-55 yr olds discount – I think the first time we have ever got an oldie’s discount, though we did say we were only 50.

A stunning ride up through tight gorges. Mostly forested with a look not unlike some of the track around Arthur’s Pass. The Var is a bit similar to the South Island rivers in places, with a braided floor where it the valley is wide enough, and similar gravels and boulders. The smaller shrubs are turning colour – this trip will be amazing in a few weeks time when autumn really arrives. The rock strata is a different story. We’ve seen nothing like it in New Zealand. Great folds and swirls, often in very distinct colours. Really spectacular, but impossible to photograph from a moving wobbling train passing through forest. The train is narrow gauge, and the ride is a bit side-to-side, but it is well worth it.

About an hour up the track we got to our destination – Entrevaux. It is a gorgeous walled village tucked inside a U-bend in the river, with lovely arched bridges accessing it, and a big fortress above reached by a long and very steep path. The village was sacked in the 1600s, and Louis XIV commissioned the brilliant military engineer Vauban to redesign the fortress. We had about 2 hours to spare before the next train returned, so went straight up the hill. The track was rather vicious on what was now quite a humid day, but we need the exercise I suppose. Amazing fortifications with arrow slits all the way up, many gates, and then drawbridges and guardhouses as you approach the fortress itself. There is a local preservation society who have made an excellent job of doing it up, and there were a lot of rooms to see in the fortress itself, including the kitchen, a nice little chapel, and some tiny jail cells with odd sloped stone beds. Great views down over the town and out into the gorges. Some amazing razor-backed stone ridges. We really enjoyed the bulding and especially the location.

On coming down there is a little museum in the old magazine building, and an enthusiast’s excellent motorbike collection to visit in the town. The cathedral too is pretty special, always a surprise how ornate and rich they are even in tiny villages like Entrevaux. Across the river we found a good patisserie for some lunch things which we ate on the platform waiting for our return train. A thoroughly enjoyable trip, which would have been great even without the picturesque village at the end, or the Vauban fortress.

On our return, set the GPS for the Maeght Foundation out of Antibes. Found it readily enough after a visit to another modern art gallery cunningly placed to pick up the Maeght trade, and enjoyed the huge number of Miros there, even though we were expecting Picasso for some reason. Also a number of Giacometti sculptures, and some other odds and sods. The building was by a Catalan architect and created specifically to house the huge collection. The gardens around it were lovely, full of sculpture, murals and attractive planting. The Miros were interesting – was clearly very versatile with anything from books to paintings to sculpture. A nice consistency to his work, and some humour.

It was nice to be on our way away from the Maeght, my MP3 phone plugged into the Peugeot and playing Bach on the stereo, and with no definite place we had to stop. There is something really free about being self-contained and not having a timetable to meet. We headed for Castellane, being one of the main entry points for the Gorges du Verdun, the deepest gorge in Europe. The scenery was quite different. We had the real feeling of climbing the Alps, as the forest got smaller and less dense, and we passed great faces of steep bare rock. There must have been a classic rally somewhere ahead of us, as a number of classic cars passed us. Our Lonely Planet recommended a number of hotels in Castellane, so we chose one. It is another pleasant little town, very well supplied with bars, hotels and restaurants, most around a large central area. Our chosen hotel seemed fine, so we lugged out gear up to a 3^rd floor room and had a bit of really smelly gorgonzola cheese and bread. Yum! There is a really weird bug on the wall. At first glance it looked a little like a slim cockroach, but on looking a bit closer I realised it had several dozen legs. Who knows what it is!

Felt we needed a good meal. The Train des Pignes had been a bit diesel-fumey, and we both had slight headaches, so we went for a wander round the pretty village. The temperature had got as low as 14 at one point – something we never expected on this trip, as this morning it had been up at 27 again. We got up to around 1200m I think, so that would have made a difference. Chose one of the six or eight restaurants to eat at – decided to have the second-tier plat du jour as we wanted a really good feed. And it was good. We took the last table in a hotel, the other tables we think were taken by a large German tour group. The meal was good, just what we needed. It is very nice being in a good sized bedroom, the largest and most pleasant to date, with some lovely old furniture, window and shutters onto a lane and a huge bed.

Saturday 19 September - Menton to St Martin du Var

[Photos: Monaco, Eze, Nice shops x2, Boule in St Martun du Var]

Slept very well. We can see trains out our window, but can barely hear them. Had our normal cornflakes, muesli and yoghurt breakfast. We should have done some Couchsurf requests the night before, but didn’t think of it, so did a couple in the morning without much hope of success given the short lead time. The hardest part of setting up Couchsurfs is that you need good internet access to set them up, but you also need to be able to pick up the replies in good time. Managed to get Alastair on Skype for the second time, the first being a couple of days ago at the D’Ambrosios’ home. Texted Bella after her 21^st party to see how it had gone – all well by the sound of it, though one of her best friends had fallen off the bar (when dancing) and broken a bone in her foot. I’m sure it was best we weren’t there!

We headed to Nice for another look about, and also because we thought we would be able to find free internet there quite easily. It’s pretty odd travelling around the streets with Karen clicking on the wireless icon to see if there are unsecured one, then trying them out if there are. It all has to be done quite quickly so we haven’t gone past the broadcast site, or I have to rapidly find a park (normally just double-parking with hazards on like everyone else). Despite our best efforts, there were no unsecured sites we could get into, so we parked the car, put the lappy in my bag, and headed into the old town again. Enjoyed cruising the narrow streets looking at the shops. Some lovely sites, like a shop full of coloured women’s gloves, and another with glace and marzipan fruits, including a very realistic bowl of black and green olives. Picked up our email in the one internet café we saw – they are remarkably rare considering the area is a tourist Mecca – but one rejection from a couchsurfer only.

We had Le Train des Pignes on our list of things to do. It heads up the Var River, through gorges and past little towns perched on the heights. The times were a bit tricky, the first train being quite early, so we thought we would head up the line a bit so the start would be later and the finish earlier of our trip, travelling as high up as Entrevaux, a village with a Vauban fort. Drove up the Var Valley, with the GPS making a fool of itself for once as the road had presumably changed dramatically since the GPS maps were done. No problem as long as we followed the road signs instead. Navigating with a GPS does require some common sense – you sometimes need to follow road signs and ignore the gizmo for a bit. Found our way to St Martin du Var easily enough, and a cheap “hotel” when we got there. More like a motor camp cabin than a hotel, but we had no choice anyway. Went along to the village for a look while our room was being made ready, bought some supplies, and watched a game of boule. They were very good, super accurate considering the ground was lumpy with tree roots and anything but level. Headed the other way up the road to check out some odd buildings which we think are a very old factory, bought some local wine from a place that looked as though to might be cheap but wasn’t anything special, and back to unload the car.

We checked out the railway station to find the times for the Train des Pignes, and they fit quite well, giving us a useful amount of time in Entrevaux. Dinner was a dead loss as we didn’t like the look of the local restaurants, so Karen made sandwiches and I thought I’d treat myself to a falafel burger and chips, turned out to be overpriced and not even nice.

We have the TV on. It’s a mix of game shows, tacky drama, and badly dubbed US and UK programs. There are some French-made programs, but a remarkably low proportion. I don’t think I’d be very happy being a French viewer.