Spending a week in the south of France is something I recommend to everyone. Particularly around this time of the year when it is still good weather but there are less crowds.
We arrived in Monaco on Friday evening and decided to take it easy after the excitement of the trip from Nice (as discussed in the previous entry). On Saturday morning, we walked down (or up) to Monaco-Ville, where the Prince's Palace sits in the citadel. Francesco (or Francois, depending on where you look) Grimaldi dressed up as a monk, sneaked into Monaco and took the fortress, thereby becoming the first Prince of Monaco. As far as palaces go, this one is pretty boring. The changing of the guard was also unspectacular. The cathedral is more interesting, with a relic encased in glass. It was a bone belonging to Sainte Devote, a patron saint of Monaco. The graves of Prince Rainier III and Princess Grace are also in the cathedral.
We went to check out the casino in anticipation of attendance in the evening and found crowds of people admiring the cars parked out the front. Of particular interest were a couple of Ferraris, with guys taking pictures of the engines and girls sprawling themselves over the bonnets.
In the evening, we picked out our favourite boat from all of the ones moored in the port, had dinner in a restaurant overlooking the port as well as a narrow street which expensive cars cruised down and then took ourselves off to the casino.
It cost €10 to get in and they scanned our passports. We thought that this may be a security measure for easy identification in case you are trying to scam the casino or launder money. After watching people play roulette and some high rollers play blackjack at a minimum of €50/hand, we found a pokie machine with nice colours and pictures and won ourselves a grand total of, wait for it, drum roll please, €2.60! Wow!
The drive down from Monaco along the coast was beautiful - rocky cliffs, stone walls and waves rolling in. The beaches of Nice and Cannes, however, were not so pleasant. Both the pebbly beaches of Nice and the yellow sandy beaches of Cannes were filled with old, sunburnt, half-naked people trying to get more skin cancer. Not like the movies at all.
Our B&B hosts in Avignon were a lovely couple who recommended a whole host of restaurants serving Provencale food to try. We went to all but one of them and were not disappointed by any. The funny thing was that even though we ate a lot every night, we did not feel bloated at the end of the evening. We had: duck & salmon cooked in cheeses, rabbit, lamb shanks, duck curry, calamari, squid, escargots, tuna, Avignon beef, lemon tart, praline meringue, pannacotta...
Avignon is an old city with its city wall still intact. It was the home of the Popes for 100 years in the 14th and 15th centuries when they were shoved out of Rome. Villeneuve lez Avignon is the 'new town' of Avignon, across the Rhone and was established in the 14th century. Pope Innocent VI owned some land there, which he donated to the church and a Carthusian monastery was built on the site. Never let it be said that Popes are poor.
On Tuesday we went to my favourite place - Pont du Gard, a Roman aqueduct, my first. Taffy reckons I liked it because I'm an engineer but I can't understand how anyone could fail to be impressed by such a magnificent structure. A 12.7m drop over >50km from the source near Uzes to the city of Nimes at an average of 25cm per kilometre! Such accuracy! Roman engineering at its best! Still standing after 2000 years, built over a 3-5 year period, a 48m high structure over a raging river. A footbridge was built next to it in the 19th C so that people could get across the river. To their credit, it matches perfectly with the aqueduct and it is difficult to tell that one is almost 2000 years older than the other. We will see which one stands the test of time...
We also visited the Arena in Nimes, apparently the best preserved Roman amphitheatre. The audio guide provided there was soooo boring. They went on and on. They talked about the gladiatorial battles and the executions from Roman times and the bullfights that are held today. At one point, they went through the various types of gladiators and their fighting styles one by one...yawn...until I came across the gladiator with the net and trident from Asterix! Had to listen to that one. : )
On Wednesday we visited my second favourite place, Gordes. Situated on the top of a cliff, it was an amazing view as we came around the bend. We also visited the Abbaye de Senanque, a working abbey with some very old monks. I wonder whether there will be younger ones taking over in the future. They grow lavender there but the flowers had been harvested in August so we just saw stubbly bushes. Rousillon, a town nearby, is famous for its ochre-coloured dirt and, therefore, walls. However, for an Aussie who has visited the lighter orange-coloured landscapes of the Northern Territory and had the deep red-coloured dirt of northern Western Australia embedded in my clothes and shoes, this was no big deal. Les Baux de Provence was also nothing much. It was not possible to see the town as we drove up to it so it was not spectacular like Gordes.
On Thursday we finally visited the Pope's Palace in Avignon. Boring, boring. Much of it has been ravaged by fire over the years and there is hardly anything left inside. Grey walls with no furniture does not make an interesting tourist attraction.
On Friday we took our final flustered drive back to Nice to catch the plane for London.
Photos in the usual place.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Car
Before I talk in general about my trip to the south of France I think the car and my use of it deserves a separate entry all on its own.
I decided to hire a car for the trip, firstly, because it seemed like the prices of the train rides would be just as, if not more, expensive as hiring a car (this was later proven when we chatted to fellow travellers and poked around on the ticket machines) and secondly, because a car seemed like a more flexible option for visiting little towns. As I had driven several times in the US in various sized cars, I figured that driving on the wrong side of the road would pose no real issues (this ended up being the least of my problems).
What I had not factored in was the stress levels involved with driving on unfamiliar roads with unfamiliar signs in a different language and only having stupid Google maps (printed in black and white!) to guide me.
My second trip-up occurred at Nice airport. Reservation? Hmmm, chat rapidly on the phone in French, talk to the person next-door then ask, 'Would a Cruiser convertible be ok?' 'Sure', I say, once she points out what the Cruiser is. Mumble, mumble, search, search. 'How about a VW Passat station wagon?' 'O-kkk...', I say. 'We won't charge you extra for it.' I should hope not as it wasn't my fault they didn't have my car ready for me. So, instead of a nice little Toyota Yaris to zip around the streets in, I got a lumbering Passat station wagon. No offence to Lye Seng but a Passat station wagon is only a good car if you live in Australia or the US with their wide, straight lanes.
First challenge, to get to Monaco from Nice airport. This leisurely 1/2 hour drive ended up taking over an hour. After several circuits of the airport and a drive down both ways of the esplanade in peak hour, we abandoned the Google map directions and followed the signs to Monaco on the road. Once arriving in Monaco (no border to speak of), there were conveniently placed signs to Beausoleil (the suburb) and the Forum Hotel noticeable just after you had driven past them. Several U-turns later, we arrived at the hotel.
Where to park? 'There is a public car park at the train station just down the road - just follow the signs.' While mum checked us in, I went for a drive down the curvy streets. I went up a one lane road, turned 2 corners to find a car parked at the end. Being the world's greatest reverser, I managed to negotiate the first 90 degree turn in reverse before getting stuck in the second 90 degree turn. There, I did an Austin Powers, back, forth, back, forth on the spot for a while before a lovely gentleman came to my aid and offered to drive my car out of trouble. His problem? He had never driven an automatic car (and a fancy one at that which had a button on the dash instead of a handbrake!). 'How do you go forwards and backwards?' Anyway, he got it out for me and also drove it to the car park, which was really close (30m away) but ridiculously complicated to get to (go right 20m, do a u-turn, go 50m, turn left and left again...)
Having taken 1/2 hour to park the car, I walked back to the hotel, which took all of 5 minutes.
My next traumatic experience occurred 2 days later when we attempted to get to Avignon via Nice and Cannes. We bumbled our way to the tourist information centres in Cannes and Avignon to get directions and maps. Even after getting directions in Avignon, I ended up in a tunnel that took me out to the road that we came in on instead of continuing around the city wall.
We got lost on every new venture, be it circling the city of Nimes only the take the wrong lane at the last moment or driving around and around the local roads in the Luberon or u-turning on the streets of Nice to get back to the airport but, in the immortal words of Rob Evans, Australian Cat dealer, when we arrived at Chicago's O'Hare airport after a hair-raising drive from the Cat Aurora plant, 'A few hysterics but we got there in the end.'
A word on the French and their tolerance of crazy drivers who u-turn at any moment, can't make the turn in one go and have to back up and try again - they are an amazing nation of people. Not once did I hear a horn toot or anyone yell at me. Truly, they are a misrepresented country.
A final word on Google maps. Almost completely useless. Even when I knew where I was going, I still couldn't follow the directions. Fix this, Gor!
I decided to hire a car for the trip, firstly, because it seemed like the prices of the train rides would be just as, if not more, expensive as hiring a car (this was later proven when we chatted to fellow travellers and poked around on the ticket machines) and secondly, because a car seemed like a more flexible option for visiting little towns. As I had driven several times in the US in various sized cars, I figured that driving on the wrong side of the road would pose no real issues (this ended up being the least of my problems).
What I had not factored in was the stress levels involved with driving on unfamiliar roads with unfamiliar signs in a different language and only having stupid Google maps (printed in black and white!) to guide me.
My second trip-up occurred at Nice airport. Reservation? Hmmm, chat rapidly on the phone in French, talk to the person next-door then ask, 'Would a Cruiser convertible be ok?' 'Sure', I say, once she points out what the Cruiser is. Mumble, mumble, search, search. 'How about a VW Passat station wagon?' 'O-kkk...', I say. 'We won't charge you extra for it.' I should hope not as it wasn't my fault they didn't have my car ready for me. So, instead of a nice little Toyota Yaris to zip around the streets in, I got a lumbering Passat station wagon. No offence to Lye Seng but a Passat station wagon is only a good car if you live in Australia or the US with their wide, straight lanes.
First challenge, to get to Monaco from Nice airport. This leisurely 1/2 hour drive ended up taking over an hour. After several circuits of the airport and a drive down both ways of the esplanade in peak hour, we abandoned the Google map directions and followed the signs to Monaco on the road. Once arriving in Monaco (no border to speak of), there were conveniently placed signs to Beausoleil (the suburb) and the Forum Hotel noticeable just after you had driven past them. Several U-turns later, we arrived at the hotel.
Where to park? 'There is a public car park at the train station just down the road - just follow the signs.' While mum checked us in, I went for a drive down the curvy streets. I went up a one lane road, turned 2 corners to find a car parked at the end. Being the world's greatest reverser, I managed to negotiate the first 90 degree turn in reverse before getting stuck in the second 90 degree turn. There, I did an Austin Powers, back, forth, back, forth on the spot for a while before a lovely gentleman came to my aid and offered to drive my car out of trouble. His problem? He had never driven an automatic car (and a fancy one at that which had a button on the dash instead of a handbrake!). 'How do you go forwards and backwards?' Anyway, he got it out for me and also drove it to the car park, which was really close (30m away) but ridiculously complicated to get to (go right 20m, do a u-turn, go 50m, turn left and left again...)
Having taken 1/2 hour to park the car, I walked back to the hotel, which took all of 5 minutes.
My next traumatic experience occurred 2 days later when we attempted to get to Avignon via Nice and Cannes. We bumbled our way to the tourist information centres in Cannes and Avignon to get directions and maps. Even after getting directions in Avignon, I ended up in a tunnel that took me out to the road that we came in on instead of continuing around the city wall.
We got lost on every new venture, be it circling the city of Nimes only the take the wrong lane at the last moment or driving around and around the local roads in the Luberon or u-turning on the streets of Nice to get back to the airport but, in the immortal words of Rob Evans, Australian Cat dealer, when we arrived at Chicago's O'Hare airport after a hair-raising drive from the Cat Aurora plant, 'A few hysterics but we got there in the end.'
A word on the French and their tolerance of crazy drivers who u-turn at any moment, can't make the turn in one go and have to back up and try again - they are an amazing nation of people. Not once did I hear a horn toot or anyone yell at me. Truly, they are a misrepresented country.
A final word on Google maps. Almost completely useless. Even when I knew where I was going, I still couldn't follow the directions. Fix this, Gor!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The Wedding
The day went off almost with a hitch! : ) The celebrant forgot to come! What?! How does this happen? 15 minutes before the appointed hour, Gor rang him to hear him say, 'Uh-oh.' Not the best thing to hear from a celebrant on your wedding day. As he lived in San Jose, it took him about an hour to get up to Walnut Creek. After some quick thinking, the photo ops and hors d'oeuvres were moved forward so everyone well and truly saw the bride before the wedding.
The wedding itself was quite amusing. Kelly's dad was so nervous one of their relatives called out for him to smile as they walked up the aisle. He then almost tripped over her train as he went back to his seat. Kelly had trouble putting the ring on Gor's fat finger and muttered to herself quite audibly that it wasn't going on.
They did the signing privately inside after the ceremony (apparently this is the norm in the US). The celebrant thought Gor was the best man and told him to sign under Witness. Not all there, it seems...
The reception started quite strangely with the entrees being served before the bridal party had actually arrived in the room. After this initial hiccup, things went smoothly. The speeches were mostly good & short and mine went well, eliciting enough laughs and embarrassing Gor sufficiently. There were speeches in both English and Cantonese so that everyone could understand at least part of the program.
I came down with my 3rd cold in 5 months the day after I arrived and it was a close call as to whether I would be sniffling (which was dying down) and/or coughing (which was escalating) on Sunday. Luckily, I hit a lull for both that evening.
I was able to catch up with many relatives over the week through several dinners, afternoon teas and outings. It was good to see several of my cousins again and spend some time with them.
Photos are in the usual place.
Ma and I arrived back in London this morning, the plane landed at 7.15am but we did not leave the airport till after 9.30. There were massive queues at the immigration hall, even worse than normal. We are off to the south of France tomorrow.
The wedding itself was quite amusing. Kelly's dad was so nervous one of their relatives called out for him to smile as they walked up the aisle. He then almost tripped over her train as he went back to his seat. Kelly had trouble putting the ring on Gor's fat finger and muttered to herself quite audibly that it wasn't going on.
They did the signing privately inside after the ceremony (apparently this is the norm in the US). The celebrant thought Gor was the best man and told him to sign under Witness. Not all there, it seems...
The reception started quite strangely with the entrees being served before the bridal party had actually arrived in the room. After this initial hiccup, things went smoothly. The speeches were mostly good & short and mine went well, eliciting enough laughs and embarrassing Gor sufficiently. There were speeches in both English and Cantonese so that everyone could understand at least part of the program.
I came down with my 3rd cold in 5 months the day after I arrived and it was a close call as to whether I would be sniffling (which was dying down) and/or coughing (which was escalating) on Sunday. Luckily, I hit a lull for both that evening.
I was able to catch up with many relatives over the week through several dinners, afternoon teas and outings. It was good to see several of my cousins again and spend some time with them.
Photos are in the usual place.
Ma and I arrived back in London this morning, the plane landed at 7.15am but we did not leave the airport till after 9.30. There were massive queues at the immigration hall, even worse than normal. We are off to the south of France tomorrow.
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