Slept into until 9am and then out to a very nice breakfast laid out by our host. Nice chat. The place we are staying is is very old – with the large timber and iron front gates dating back to the 15th century! Headed away mid-morning and cruised through the country again. We are so enjoying the springtime, large fields of red poppies, leafy plane trees which line so many of the roads throughout southern and eastern France (if not all of France – we don’t know), and blossoms around about. We haven’t travelled in spring before and have found it a real delight. Made a brief stop not long after we left Tavernes when we came across a little village, complete with signposts for a walking track to a nearby waterfall. Had a happy jaunt through an olive field and down to the river. Recharged the batteries with an espresso and the village and then onwards.
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| Drauguignan street - typically French small town |
John had received a text message to call work so we needed to find an internet place to send off an email. Arrived at a large place called Draguignan where we managed to squeeze into a carpark near the town centre. We stumbled across the tourist info centre straight away. Even more surprisingly, it was open and had free wireless. Only 10mins until closing time though but we could sit outside under the trees and check our emails. We hadn’t managed to clock in for a number of days so quite a bit had stacked up. John did some work for Talleys on the spot and got the rest of his work under control.
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| John hard at work |
By now it was 1pm and of course all the shops were closed, even the bakers! Sick of bread anyway. Headed out of town with the plan to find a nice shady spot and have a make-do lunch with yoghurt and other bits and pieces we had with us. Passed a patisserie on the way out of town and couldn’t resist. Ended up buying some yummy pastries, found a nice shady spot at the top of a winding hill road, and had our little picnic.
We still had a bit of time up our sleeve so instead of linking up with the toll road straight to Italy, we headed south to the French coast on the normal road. It’s a lot more interesting being on the small roads, and you get a better feel for the country, but the constant roundabouts can be frustrating. They occur at spacings of as little as 150 metres. Stopped off at a supermarket to do a large shop for groceries, as we know where we are going will not have a decent sized store anywhere handy. Now time was short so we only had time to drive a few blocks along the Cannes waterfront and look at all the bodies strutting along or getting bronzed on the sand. Would have loved to have spent more time here – there were even plenty of carparks along the waterfront. John said that the Cannes film festival is on now and we could have seen some film stars!!!
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| Cannes beachfront |
No luck though, had to be in Montalto by 6pm so no choice but to link up with the toll road and get a move on. Not too expensive, and we were soon crossing the border into Italy, with an awful lot of regret. We have enjoyed France immensely – the friendly people, the food, the greenery and the history. Up the Argentina Valley past Badalucco, and the GPS wanted us to head up a tiny rough road, which we wisely ignored, instead taking the signposted turnoff to Montalto a little further on. We were going to Montalto instead as our exchange host has a number of houses in the area, and had a cancellation that enabled him to give us a nicer apartment in the town immediately above Badalucco – a tiny hillside town called Montalto.
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| Our new living room |
We arrived a few minutes late, and Karen couldn’t find Claus at the local bar as arranged, but soon found him after parking (a tricky task as there was a wedding on). Following a beer we had our ridiculous number of shopping and other bags put on an Ape and driven up a narrow alley to our apartment for the next ten days. A very flash open place, perched high above the valley. Just enough time to change for dinner (one must not let one’s standards slip!) down at the sole restaurant in town where Claus had reserved us a terrace table. The dinner was superb, helped by the restaurant having a party of 30 people in, for whom they had obviously made a special menu. We started with antipasto of meats and more, and a huge plate of simply delicious lightly floured and deep-fried anchovies. They have little of the bite of the tiny anchovies you get on NZ pizzas, but actually tasted like more flavoured whitebait. We’ll be back for more. For
secondo we both had ravioli, Karen’s being fish-based with a venison sauce, and mine using cheese and a rich cream sauce. The cheese,
Castelmagno, was immensely powerful with a bite that makes
Roquefort seem mild by comparison. We’re back to Italian bread, not surprisingly. We can’t quite figure how it can be so dry and flavourless compared to the French bread, but there is no comparison.
Montalto has church bells as daft as those in Laroque, with an extra twist. Not only do they ring the hour on the hour and again at 3 minutes past, but at half past they ring the hour again followed by a pathetic little ding from a smaller bell. And all this happens every hour including the night, so in the 30 minutes from midnight to 12:30am there are 37 chimes! However they have no effect on our sleeping at all, we are immune to them since Laroque.
Montalto appears to be a tiny but lively town, with a significant expat population, and a stunning location.
