Travelling again part 15

This week was quite a varied week as far as activities go. The first few days were relatively quiet and were spent readying ourselves for our South African visitors who arrived on Wednesday. They had flown in to Toulouse where they hired a car and found their way to us with the help of a GPS device. We were very impressed as the house is not easy to find at the best of times. Fortunately they had not had a long trip before they arrived because from the next day it was all go, go go! On Thursday, we took them out for lunch at Montesquiou and then walked around the town afterwards. They were suitably impressed with the old buildings but enjoyed, even more, the pencil sketch portraits of all the town’s permanent inhabitants, which hang in the Town Hall. Before getting to our lunch destination, we had taken a detour past Peyrusse Vieille to say goodbye to our friends there and managed to time it exactly, for them to see Ady ringing the church bells – something quite special for foreigners. Our return trip to the house was just as round-about as we tried to show them bits of everywhere, which included Bassoues and Aignan. It was unbelievably hot after all the cold weather and we were all dressed far too warmly but managed to survive. The next day we took them into Eauze to do some shopping, as they will be staying on in this house after we leave on Tuesday. Although the supermarket is not one of the biggest, they were overwhelmed with the variety of goods and we had almost to drag them away before they bought far more than they needed. That evening we entertained my cousin to dinner, to give her an opportunity to meet our friends, and to give them an opportunity to meet her in case they need help with anything after we have left. On Saturday, we repeated our trip of some time ago when we did a huge circular drive which took in Gabarret, La Bastide d’Armagnac, Estang and Manciet. We took a picnic lunch with us, which we enjoyed in La Bastide after having wandered slowly around the town admiring all the wonderful old medieval buildings. After leaving La Bastide, we called in at an unusual church dedicated to cyclists. The gates are made of bicycles and the interior is hung with jerseys belonging to champion and other well-known cyclists. There are apparently over six-hundred jerseys hanging against the walls and the stained glass windows depict cyclists. Very unusual indeed. Today we ate out again, this time in beautiful Bassoues, which was bustling with visitors. And once again we took a circuitous route to get home, giving them quick glimpses of Marciac and Plaisance, and taking different roads to the ones we have used before. Thank goodness they have a GPS to help them get around because by now their sense of direction must be totally confused. I am purposefully keeping this week’s blog really short as I have had an SMS from the service provider to tell me that our data card has almost expired and I am not sure how far the remainder will go. If no pictures accompany the text, it means that the card has run out completely!

Travelling again Part 14

Just after I had sent off the post last week, the TV crew reappeared with great bustle and activity. It seems that we were wrong in thinking they had left. Their re-appearance was to provide us with some enjoyable entertainment over the next few hours! I should just say something here about a group of locals whom we have named ‘The Bench Brigade’. There are between six and ten of them - all very good friends, quite obviously – and each day they congregate in a sunny corner outside the back of the church, a place which also has a very good view of the people coming to and going from the supermarket; coming and going in the parking places; and coming and going generally! There are two benches for them to sit on, but the two benches placed end to end really only accommodate six of them comfortably, so when there are more, they sit one forward and one back so that they can all fit in. They are all of an age, mostly toothless and/ or bald (the men and the women) but quite obviously not at all concerned about things like that. They chatter away at the tops of their voices, probably because they are deaf, too, and laugh uproariously at each other’s jokes. One old man has an enormous belly which his shirt strains over, and when he laughs, this whole mound heaves up and down. Another old lady had obviously had her hair dyed a particularly bright carroty colour which the French seem to be partial too, but it had mostly grown out so just the very ends were bright orange while the rest was almost white – it looked as if her head was on fire! One of the other men, who wore a South African rugby jersey for almost the entire time we were in Breil, was going bald in patches but had let his hair grow long elsewhere, which made him look very peculiar. Neels asked him why he wore the jersey and he replied that he was a staunch SA rugby supporter. One way and another, the whole group were just delightful, with each one of them a ‘character’ and I was longing to get a picture of them all squashed on to the bench. I am sure I could have just asked and they would have let me, but then they would have all ‘posed’ which I didn’t want, but in the end I never got the opportunity. However, on Sunday evening after the TV crew had returned, I happened to look out of the window, across the square, and there they all were, being interviewed and filmed. They had got themselves all spruced up with shiny faces and combed hair, and the lady with carroty hair had even had hers re-dyed for the occasion. They were all sitting up straight on some stone benches right across from our window, so I couldn’t resist the opportunity and quickly snapped off a couple of shots of them. To me, they represented the essence of Breil – old, but still lively, and totally unselfconscious about appearances. Just after the filming ended, a dramatic thunderstorm erupted which rattled the windowpanes, but it was soon over and we became aware of trumpets sounding and the noise of a bass drum, so we went out to see what was going on as it was not visible from our window. In the covered verandah of the building next to ours, we discovered a brass band warming up, and a long trestle table covered with a paper cloth. Then the rain started again so we hurried back to the shelter of the apartment. ‘Something to do with the village inhabitants’ we thought, and anyway the band was not particularly tuneful. We had not been home for more than a few minutes when the band began to play in earnest and in tune, and the drummer was actually beating in reasonable time too, so Neels went down again to see what had changed. By now several of the inhabitants had gathered, amongst them the local butcher, who we had come to know, and the bakery lady, whom Neels knew so well that he no longer had to ask for his daily order of croissants, baguette and pains au chocolat. Both of them asked where I was and told him to fetch me because there was to be a party given by the TV company and everybody in the town was invited. By the time we joined them, there were huge buckets of crisps, platters of sliced ham, olives and pieces of pizza laid out on the table. There was fruit juice, Coca Cola and red or white wine available to drink, and all were welcome. The band was deafening so there was no real need to talk, it could all be said with ones hands. By the time we left them to finish up, the party had become quite jolly, the band was exhausted and we didn’t need supper that night! The next day was partly sunny again so in the afternoon we walked up to a view site above the town where there is a tiny church which dates back to the 11th century. On the way up we walked past dozens of allotments with vegetables, flowers and fruit growing abundantly. Of course, none of the houses in the village have gardens at all, so these little patches are to compensate for that. Had I known beforehand that the round trip was about three kilometres, of which half was seriously uphill, I may well not have started out but I have to admit that the view from the top was spectacular and worth the effort. On Tuesday we had been invited to dine with our new South African friends and to our amazement she produced a really delicious bobotie. I say ‘amazement’ because the ingredients for a truly South African bobotie are not easily come by in the mountains of eastern France. We had a lovely evening with them and hope we will not lose touch once we all return home. The next day had been set aside for cleaning and packing and saying our goodbyes to new friends, and on Thursday we packed everything into our car and aimed her nose westwards, to Lezignan-Corbieres, not too far from Narbonne. A British friend has a house there and this year her visit and ours happened to coincide. The weather worsened the further east we drove, and shortly after we arrived at her house, it began to rain quite heavily. It didn’t really improve during our entire stay, but we had plenty of catching up to do and had seen most of the sights on a previous visit, so it really didn’t matter. All too soon, it was time to leave again and by Sunday afternoon we were back in the house we started from three weeks ago. It almost feels like coming home!

Travelling again Part 13 (Pictures only)

Travelling again Part 13

Another activity-filled week! We started off by taking the bus to Monaco which also costs only one euro. It seems that as long as one asks for the appropriate destination when you get to the bus, it will only cost one euro, and although we haven’t tried it, we believe we could get all the way to nice for the same amount. It really isn’t worth taking the car out and having to search for parking the other end. Monaco was mostly what we had expected – expensive designer shops and a harbour full of privately owned luxury yachts – but has some remarkable modern architecture which one seldom hears about. We did a lot of walking (I must surely be getting fitter!) and ended up at the Palace of Prince Albert and Princess Charlene, but didn’t see her. On the way we stopped to buy a sandwich at a small snack-bar and noticed a South African flag draped across the back of the shop. When we commented, we were told it was for Princess Charlene. We have since heard that when she goes out shopping, a cavalcade of mounted police go ahead, and will stop the pedestrians on the pavement. Then a shiny black car will pull up and she will emerge, but she never walks straight into a building, she always takes time to shake the hands of the people nearest to her and to say ‘Hello. I’m Charlene. How do you do’ It has made a huge impression on the citizens, apparently, who now definitely see her as a ‘peoples person’. The city was readying itself for a big motor racing weekend – the Classic Grand Prix – which was quite a pity as there were stands being erected and huge mesh fences going up around that part of the city which comprises the race track, so a lot of the sights had to be viewed though wire netting, but we saw plenty in spite of that. The next day was market day again, but the village was in total uproar for quite another reason. There is a TV series in France, similar to ‘Boer soek ‘n vrou’ in South Africa or ‘Blind Date’ in the UK, in which single girls volunteer to be matched with single men and are then followed around for a few days while they try to get to know each other, and it was Breil’s turn to produce the film material. We are not sure if the men or the girls were from this area, but the village did itself proud in preparing the backdrop. One of the two small squares was cleared of vehicles, and with the big church behind them, villagers dressed in medieval garb ‘sold’ local produce from tables set out before them. A pipe and drum group played suitable medieval-sounding music and the church clock was stopped so that the booming bells did not spoil a critical moment of filming. The surrounding crowd of spectators was ‘warmed up’ by cheering and clapping on demand, and then a group of flag throwers gave a spirited performance which we found quite spectacular, especially as by now there was a stiffish breeze blowing. More cheering and clapping and then the long awaited moment arrived and a huge bus painted in shades on mauve pulled into the square. After a couple of practice runs, the girls came sprinting out of the bus and were greeted by the town mayor and a TV celebrity. More cheering and clapping and then the men arrived on the back of a little three wheeler vehicle, rather like a toy truck. After this it all got quite technical with the selection of men and girls and who would be paired with whom, so we left them to it and wandered off. During the whole performance though we had come across another couple who are also South African and staying here for a while, and they invited us up to their apartment for a cup of coffee. They are fortunate enough to have a large balcony which overlooks the river and the main road, although the access to the apartment is from a really dark and narrow alley to the rear. You really cannot judge an apartment by its front door here! The following morning we watched some of the filming for the reality show for a while, but then took ourselves off to La Brigue again to see what we had missed last time due to the rain. We had been told of a marvellous church which we just had to see, a few kilometres further on, so we went to investigate. It is known as Notre Dame des Fontaines. The legend goes that a long time ago, there was a terrible drought and even the spring which had always given water, dried up. The villagers, desperate for water went to pray to the Virgin at this very ancient site and a miracle occurred – water began to flow from the spring again. In recognition of this miracle, a chapel was built. Much later, in the 12th century it was consecrated and then in the 15th century the interior was decorated by two local artists. The whole chapel is still regarded as something of a miracle as the paintings have never been restored and are now over 500 years old, and still as brilliant as the day they were completed. On Thursday we went back to Sospel, again to see what we missed the first time around. In the meantime we had managed to get hold of a tourist brochure, so knew what to look for and where to look. In the afternoon we drove on and up to the Col de Torini, a road with so many twists and turns that by the time we got there I really wasn’t sure if I was facing forwards or backwards! On the way we passed another church built in an impossible place – on a pinnacle of rock with no easy access. From below, as we approached by road, we could see that the back end of the church was literally hanging over the end of the rock it was standing on! When we finally reached the top of that particular hill, we found that a stone bridge had been built across a small depression, with a walkway and steps leading up to the church. The road had been neatly fitted through one of the arches of the bridge. Finally at the very top of the Col, at an altitude of 1607 metres, we suddenly found ourselves in amongst a Classic Car Rally with some wonderful old vehicles amongst their numbers. They were all part of the Classic Car weekend in Monaco, and obviously enjoying themselves. I was glad we didn’t have to drive any of those cars back down the mountain – it was hair-raising enough, in our tiny car and short wheel-base, to get around some of the corners. They were all sent on their way shortly after we arrived, so we gave them enough time to get well away before we started down, only to meet a stream of Mini’s thundering up the hill towards us. This road was part of the original Monte Carlo Rally and is to aspirant racers what Everest is to climbers, so anyone who fancies their driving skills just has to drive the Col de Torini. After all that excitement, we gave ourselves a day off but in the late afternoon took a bottle of wine around to our new SA friends and enjoyed a drink with them. They had a family friend staying with them, who we invited to join us the next day on an outing to Pien Haute, yet another village clinging to a hillside, miles from anywhere, with no obvious facilities. In our ambles around the village, we saw no shop of any sort, not even a bread depot; no Post Office; no mayor’s office; nothing! What on earth persuades people to continue living there? And the road to the nearest town is not for the faint-hearted either! It’s quite amazing. We made a round trip of the outing and came back via Sospel again as our guest had not yet been there. We managed a very superficial glimpse of quite a lot, but had to get her back to her hosts so couldn’t dawdle too much. Which brings us back to Sunday again. Another at home day, getting the washing done and the apartment tidied. The day started off well with blue skies and bright sun but deteriorated quite quickly and by lunchtime there were loud rumbles of thunder and the threatened rain arrived. The TV crew packed up all their cameras and other equipment and left just after lunch and a strange quiet has descended on the village. It is once again very peaceful.

travelling again Part 12 (Pictures only)

These are pictures of what we saw during Part 12

Travelling again Part 12

Aah! One of my readers has chastised me for describing how we got to our new accommodation; what a charming town it is; and how delighted we are with our situation, but completely forgot to give the name of the place which is, of course, Breil-sur-Roya, or Breil on the Roya River. We started the week with a ‘no driving’ day which was just as well as it was cold and rainy. In the afternoon though, we went to an organ concert we had seen advertised in the big church just a few steps away from us. It only lasted about three quarters of an hour but was very enjoyable as the organist had selected pleasant, lively pieces with lots of variation in pitch and tempo. I was only sorry that, being held in the church, all the seats faced forward while the organ was above and behind us, so one couldn’t see the organist, although I suppose we wouldn’t have seen much anyway as he was so high up. The rain had started falling very heavily while we were in the concert and we had to skittle across the square to get home. It continued all night, but by morning the sky had cleared for the weekly market so we went downstairs to see what was on offer. Not a big market, but there were vegetables for sale; three stalls selling cheese; a large van full of clothes with racks of shirts and skirts hanging outside it; another van of shoes and that was about it. We bought some cheese and had a look at the clothes but felt that they were really poor quality. This is a serious gap in ‘the market’ as the weekly market is the only direct access to clothes for the people in this village and we are sure that if someone offered better quality goods they could make a fortune. In the afternoon we took ourselves off for a walk to the Hermitage of St Antoine which is on the southern end of the village. Built into the walls of the town at an arched gateway known as the Port de Genes, or Gateway to Genoa, is a tiny hovel which must have been where poor old St Antoine lived. Next to it is a somewhat larger building known as the Chapel of St Antoine, and travellers leaving the town would be sure to stop off here and pray for protection from wolves and/or brigands. Every evening, the gate would be closed and locked to prevent those same villains entering the town. Dangerous times indeed. We walked a short distance along the mule track which would have been the route taken by these travellers, but it is very narrow and broken, cut into the steep hillside and with the (by now) raging river below us, and all too soon my vertigo got the better of me and we turned back again. Not a moment too soon though as the drizzle started almost at once and by the time we reached our apartment we were quite wet. We had determined to go somewhere on Wednesday, whatever the weather, so we were fortunate that the day started off beautifully sunny. We caught the 11 am bus to Menton, via Ventimiglia, which cost us all of 1€ each! It is a lovely drive, which Neels could now see while someone else watched the road and I think he thoroughly enjoyed it. The bus driver obviously knows the road really well and was hurling the bus around the twists and bends but still staying on his own side of the rather narrow road. Menton is not big as cities go, but is quite spread out which is always a problem when sight-seeing on foot – everything is so far apart and it takes so long to get to each place. We saw plenty though and even made it up to the top of the hill to the view site in the historical part of the town. Steps all the way! The view from the top made it all worthwhile and the return trip was all downhill! By the time we climbed on to the 5 pm return bus, we were suitably footsore and weary. The following day we took it easy again. A late lie-in followed by a walk around to the far side of the lake where there is a permanent tented canopy. It is used as a venue for shows and concerts and must be lovely on a summer evening to sit and watch a performance against the backdrop of the town. After a lazy day, another busy one when we drove north to Cuneo which is actually in Italy, although of course there are no border controls any more – it is just the road signs which suddenly change from French to Italian. The road climbs over the Alps with the Col de Tende being the highest point at 1800 meters give or take a few. We could see snow-capped mountains all around just before we went into a 3.2 kilometre tunnel. The tunnel is single lane traffic and is regulated with traffic lights, so there is quite a long waiting time if you happen to get there at the wrong time. As we waited, I climbed out of the car to see where we had come from and could make out six levels of road below me, with sharp hairpin bends at each end of each level. Quite spectacular, and quite some road-building. We had been advised to shop for groceries in a smaller centre – Borgo San Dalmazzo – where the supermarket is easily accessible and prices are cheaper than in France. This little place has a somewhat unfortunate and sad history, in that it was a collection point for prisoners who were on the way to Daschau or Auschwitz, but once the war was over, all traces of the camps were destroyed and now nothing remains of them. It has become, instead, a busy, industrial town, Shopping done, we carried on to Cuneo, which is laid out in a fairly strict grid pattern, so one has this long, straight main street which terminates in the enormous Place di Galimberti. This square is surrounded by large elegant buildings and arcaded pavements. The square itself is huge. I would guess that each side is about 250 metres long, with traffic lanes around the perimeter and a large mosaic-cobbled area in the centre. It marks the beginning of the more modern part of Cuneo, which we had just driven through, with the historical area forming a triangle beyond it. As usual, we had timed things just right to be too late and in Italy they enjoy a three hour break in the middle of the day so there was no chance of getting any information from the Tourist Office for quite some time. Making the best of the situation we decided to have lunch. This turned out to be more of a lucky dip than a choice as the waitress passed us a menu, told us in French that this page was sandwiches, the next was cold meals and the next hot meals and left us to it. Since our Italian doesn’t really go much beyond ‘spaghetti’ and ‘lasagne’ and we didn’t want either of those, we ordered and then sat back waiting to see what would arrive. We needn’t have worried – we each had a plate of delicious ham and salad, although as we had ordered different dishes, the salads were different. One advantage of these long lunch times can be found in the parking meters. If you put in enough money for an hour at 12 midday, your ticket will only expire at four o’clock, because from 12 to 3 pm is siesta time. The shops are all closed but the sights are still there to see so this is a real bonus to tourists. Although the day was warm, even hot at times, the mountains that we could see on all sides were snow-capped and gave a wonderful backdrop to all that we saw. We had obviously been timing our ‘lazy’ days quite well as our days out had all been warm and sunny while the days in had turned out to be cooler and wet, but on Saturday we thought we would challenge this and set off after an early lunch to La Brigue. This is a bit off the main road north and is acknowledged as a good example of a medieval town. Well…… we’ve seen quite a few of those so we weren’t expecting to find anything sensational, tucked away in the mountain gorge as it is. How wrong can a person be!! The weather had by now deteriorated as usual but we found parking and set off on foot. The old, but well maintained house are built of stone or slate, and we saw one with a whole façade of ‘lauze’ which is a green marble found in the Roya valley. The buildings which are plastered are generally painted in very bright colours in this part of France and Italy but in La Brigue they have used soft pastels which go well with the grey stone. We spent quite some time wandering up and down the narrow alleyways between houses and looking at the curious carvings over some of the door lintels, which date back to the 11th century. Of course we got rained on, again, and had to make a dash for the car when started coming down really heavily, but ventured a little further up the valley road and were rewarded by the sight of a magnificent water mill surrounded by cascades of tumbling water. Sunday really has been a stay-at-home day, but happily, today was the day that the local model boat club held their get-together in Breil and the sun was shining too! There were seventeen model boats in and out of the water and Neels was green with envy. Getting their boats into and out of the water is a bit of a problem as the lake surface is about 100 centimetres down from the surrounding shore but if you are keen, you can manage anything and with everyone helping all went well.