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.