We had been enjoying our lovely little car especially on the narrow alpine roads we had been driving on. We enjoyed having our shiny brand new car with shiny hub caps. However it now looks like no one cares. What has happened you ask – some low life in Chamonix took our hubcaps – all of them. Philosophical as ever, Marks comment “ Saves us losing them in Spain” lightened the moment.
Where to go from here in our unloved looking Peugeot? Mark was dying to go through the Mt Blanc tunnel into Italy to experience an amazing feat of engineering, but we decided that there wasn’t anything we wanted to do in Turin where we would have ended up, so set a path for the south of France. (And at $80 just to drive through and back – we didn’t think it was worth it). Temperatures were on the decline, the early summer having left us temporarily and rain was on the cards for the next few days. We cut a track south to Provence via Albertville (famous for the Winter Olympics a few years back).
As we went to leave this area of the Alps where Ski resort after ski resort greets you,,our reliance on Tom was proved to be flawed. What he cannot take into account is closed alpine passes so a 60 km detour resulted after we were directed up a road where the Col (mountain pass) was closed. Having redirected Tom, we drove through what looked like the bowels of France on a path to a town called Gap. The face of France changed. The villages that we drove through were poor, unkempt and dirty. There was nothing to stop for and driving through the foothills of the Alps was demanding as the roads were winding and narrow and not well kept. Arriving at Gap, a town of about 130,000, was a relief even if it was at rush hour traffic at 6pm. We ensconced ourselves at Ibis hotel and went for a walk around a deserted city. Everyone had gone home and unlike the other places we had been, it did not come to life in the eating areas in town after work.
Next morning we continued heading to Provence, one of the “Fruit bowls” of France and a producer of herbs and straightaway a difference in prosperity could be seen. Better roads and orchards of pomme, poire, cerise and peche trees lining the motorways. We drove into a town called Sisteron and felt there was something special here for us to stop for. It was perched on either side of the river Durance, with a citadel that dated back 2000 years protecting it from above. The rocks that were etched out above the river and under which much of the town was situated were awesome. The old town was a fascinating warren of cobbled alleyways and streets that led to the citadel. Napoleon had planned some of his battles here and the town elegantly invited you to visit its history. You will see a picture of a "Noddy train" as Mark calls them as he finds it disgusting that most of the major towns have these to transport tourists around. Have people forgotten how to walk?
Having walked the city we were ready for lunch and as this is our main meal of the day, we were looking for a restaurant that would serve something different to salads, Pizzas, crepes, pasta or grill and chips which is what is generally what is on offer. We found this place called “Groovys” which had the same range of products but with a nouvelle cuisine approach. It was full of diners which was good sign. So we went in and were greeted by Glowing tables (changing coloured lights under frosted Perspex), purple plastic menus and red and black plastic water glasses. A blue glowing screen with a flatscreen TV showing extreme nature clips was playing. One may have thought that this would put you off your meal but believe me it did not. The food we had was as good as the best we have had in NZ and we sat there for an hour and a half including indulging in dessert (Banana crème brulee, tiramisu and Crème Anglaise with extreme chocolate Brownie) and Columbian coffee as well. We left having eaten too much but delighted with our find.
From there we continued into the Verdon Regional Park in the South East of Provence. We came here to find the “Gorges” of Verdon, paths cut into the landscape by scouring rivers. This is still in the alps in a region called Alps de Haute Provence. The drive into the region gave a hint at the scale of the gorges as we wound our way along river gorges and switchback roads going up and down passes. We were headed to a town called Castellane, billed as the entry to the Gorges of Verdon, an outdoor adventure area with rafting, canyoning, kayaking, hiking and VTT. We had planned to go canyoning and do a day walk in the Gorge and then move onto a place 2 hours away for mountain biking. But the weather was to foil our plans. It did not however stop us walking to the top of the rock where the twon chappel was situated. Interestingly, all along the walk were the stations of the cross that catholic readers will be familiar with(see pic above). We spent two days driving around the Verdon viewing the amazing craggy deep gorges from the narrow roads that had been carved out of rock (sometimes under) and tracked along their sides, not unlike the Skippers Canyon road in Queenstown but on a bigger scale.
The second day it was still wet so we drove for an hour to a town called Glasse. This is still on the Napoleon route which we have found that we have been following on this part of the Journey. This is another ramparted town not unlike Sisteron with narrow alleyways and the number of cars with dents and scrapes attest to the challenges of driving in such a place. I managed to get into an underground car park and go down the wrong way(yes I did) and it was so narrow that no one with a bigger car could have gone down(or could they). But we survived. But we have been lucky. Getting parks is immensely difficult and when you do you have to decide whether you need to pay or not. Blue lines are pay ones I found out see the car being ticketed whilst drinking a cup of tea in a shop. I ran to the car and pleaded ignorance and the nice man let me off. Now we always look to see if other cars have tickets on their dashboards as that is the best indicator of whether we need to look for a ticket machine or not.
Leaving Castellane and the Verdon Regional Park saw Tom take us along the narrowest road yet – a sealed goat track would be the best description. A slow drive just edging the cars nose around corners ensured a safe traverse through a rocky terrain on which sheep and goats now roamed. This would highlight why there were so many different “chevre” cheeses in the area. We noticed the huge range of “chevre fromage” at the local Castellane Saturday morning market we strolled through prior to leaving. Add to the cheeses olives, salamis and breads and you have two salivating Kiwis. Mark found a taste delight we have only seen in Provence, a Fougasse. This is a croissant like textured bread that has cheese, meat, olives or anchovies woven into the dough. His favourite was the chevre. As we dropped into Provence from the hills, vineyards greeted us and towns with their own varieties of wine advertised.
Where to go from here in our unloved looking Peugeot? Mark was dying to go through the Mt Blanc tunnel into Italy to experience an amazing feat of engineering, but we decided that there wasn’t anything we wanted to do in Turin where we would have ended up, so set a path for the south of France. (And at $80 just to drive through and back – we didn’t think it was worth it). Temperatures were on the decline, the early summer having left us temporarily and rain was on the cards for the next few days. We cut a track south to Provence via Albertville (famous for the Winter Olympics a few years back).
As we went to leave this area of the Alps where Ski resort after ski resort greets you,,our reliance on Tom was proved to be flawed. What he cannot take into account is closed alpine passes so a 60 km detour resulted after we were directed up a road where the Col (mountain pass) was closed. Having redirected Tom, we drove through what looked like the bowels of France on a path to a town called Gap. The face of France changed. The villages that we drove through were poor, unkempt and dirty. There was nothing to stop for and driving through the foothills of the Alps was demanding as the roads were winding and narrow and not well kept. Arriving at Gap, a town of about 130,000, was a relief even if it was at rush hour traffic at 6pm. We ensconced ourselves at Ibis hotel and went for a walk around a deserted city. Everyone had gone home and unlike the other places we had been, it did not come to life in the eating areas in town after work.
Next morning we continued heading to Provence, one of the “Fruit bowls” of France and a producer of herbs and straightaway a difference in prosperity could be seen. Better roads and orchards of pomme, poire, cerise and peche trees lining the motorways. We drove into a town called Sisteron and felt there was something special here for us to stop for. It was perched on either side of the river Durance, with a citadel that dated back 2000 years protecting it from above. The rocks that were etched out above the river and under which much of the town was situated were awesome. The old town was a fascinating warren of cobbled alleyways and streets that led to the citadel. Napoleon had planned some of his battles here and the town elegantly invited you to visit its history. You will see a picture of a "Noddy train" as Mark calls them as he finds it disgusting that most of the major towns have these to transport tourists around. Have people forgotten how to walk?
Having walked the city we were ready for lunch and as this is our main meal of the day, we were looking for a restaurant that would serve something different to salads, Pizzas, crepes, pasta or grill and chips which is what is generally what is on offer. We found this place called “Groovys” which had the same range of products but with a nouvelle cuisine approach. It was full of diners which was good sign. So we went in and were greeted by Glowing tables (changing coloured lights under frosted Perspex), purple plastic menus and red and black plastic water glasses. A blue glowing screen with a flatscreen TV showing extreme nature clips was playing. One may have thought that this would put you off your meal but believe me it did not. The food we had was as good as the best we have had in NZ and we sat there for an hour and a half including indulging in dessert (Banana crème brulee, tiramisu and Crème Anglaise with extreme chocolate Brownie) and Columbian coffee as well. We left having eaten too much but delighted with our find.
From there we continued into the Verdon Regional Park in the South East of Provence. We came here to find the “Gorges” of Verdon, paths cut into the landscape by scouring rivers. This is still in the alps in a region called Alps de Haute Provence. The drive into the region gave a hint at the scale of the gorges as we wound our way along river gorges and switchback roads going up and down passes. We were headed to a town called Castellane, billed as the entry to the Gorges of Verdon, an outdoor adventure area with rafting, canyoning, kayaking, hiking and VTT. We had planned to go canyoning and do a day walk in the Gorge and then move onto a place 2 hours away for mountain biking. But the weather was to foil our plans. It did not however stop us walking to the top of the rock where the twon chappel was situated. Interestingly, all along the walk were the stations of the cross that catholic readers will be familiar with(see pic above). We spent two days driving around the Verdon viewing the amazing craggy deep gorges from the narrow roads that had been carved out of rock (sometimes under) and tracked along their sides, not unlike the Skippers Canyon road in Queenstown but on a bigger scale.
The second day it was still wet so we drove for an hour to a town called Glasse. This is still on the Napoleon route which we have found that we have been following on this part of the Journey. This is another ramparted town not unlike Sisteron with narrow alleyways and the number of cars with dents and scrapes attest to the challenges of driving in such a place. I managed to get into an underground car park and go down the wrong way(yes I did) and it was so narrow that no one with a bigger car could have gone down(or could they). But we survived. But we have been lucky. Getting parks is immensely difficult and when you do you have to decide whether you need to pay or not. Blue lines are pay ones I found out see the car being ticketed whilst drinking a cup of tea in a shop. I ran to the car and pleaded ignorance and the nice man let me off. Now we always look to see if other cars have tickets on their dashboards as that is the best indicator of whether we need to look for a ticket machine or not.
Leaving Castellane and the Verdon Regional Park saw Tom take us along the narrowest road yet – a sealed goat track would be the best description. A slow drive just edging the cars nose around corners ensured a safe traverse through a rocky terrain on which sheep and goats now roamed. This would highlight why there were so many different “chevre” cheeses in the area. We noticed the huge range of “chevre fromage” at the local Castellane Saturday morning market we strolled through prior to leaving. Add to the cheeses olives, salamis and breads and you have two salivating Kiwis. Mark found a taste delight we have only seen in Provence, a Fougasse. This is a croissant like textured bread that has cheese, meat, olives or anchovies woven into the dough. His favourite was the chevre. As we dropped into Provence from the hills, vineyards greeted us and towns with their own varieties of wine advertised.
We have enjoyed seeing the subtle changes in food as we have moved through the provinces. Other things change too. Simple things like ordering a “picher” of water in northern France changes to a “carafe: in Provence. In Provence the addition of herbs to the cuisine is very noticeable. Mark enjoyed a pizza that had no cheese but rather a herbaceous tomato sauce with green peppers, olives and persil (parsley). And this is the area for Crème Brulee and Crème Caramel – divine. You will be pleased to note that there is no smoking in Restaurants in France which is a welcomed relief BUT dogs are allowed. And on the matter of dogs, there is dog poo everywhere and one has to ever vigilant to ensure that they don’t carry a poo on their shoe. And a last word on different things in France – public toilets. We have found in this part of the country they are squat toilets for females, no paper and no water to wash your hands and for the men well, they just walk through salon type swinging doors and use a urinal feeling slightly exposed.
The colors of Provence are those that we had been expecting to see; green vineyards with salmon coloured houses scattered around the countryside. Similarly in towns, blue and green shuttered buildings adorned with bright coloured flowers create a festive atmosphere. We went to Strassbourg to see these colours but ended up seeing them in Provence. Bright colored flowers are big time in France as the French people brighten up their surroundings after a long cold winter. Garden Centres and markets selling plants are everywhere.
Well we finally arrived at the Mediterranean and drove into St Tropez and promptly drive back out again. Imagine what it is like at Mt Maunganui on the weekend in summer when the weather is inclement – everyone hits the town and shops. There were cues of cars waiting to get into car parks and people everywhere. We decided we did not need this and carried on but not before noticing that wearing red and white is popular for both men and women in St Tropoz and that cars here are bigger and more ostentatious than other parts of the country. However at a village
close by we spotted this "SUPER SMART" car and we were wondering what it could possibly pull behind its towbar????
We found a beach a wee way out where we stopped for lunch but Mark was somewhat disappointed with his first views of a med beach. Weed had washed up in the shore, the water looked grey under the gloomy skies and the sand was a coarse brown. There was no light golden sand and bright blue water sparkling in the sunlight. We carried on winding our way along the coast in search of place to put our head down for the night. We found Le Lavandou and were promised by the hotelier that tomorrow would be a lovely day. And yes it was. So we biked 40 -50 km along the med enjoying the exercise and scenery on these amazing cycle ways that the French are so good at providing. We have found that the places we are visiting now are not the old villages perched on the hillsides around the med but are rather characterless rows of beach front/view apartments which are probably holiday appartments for the french. We look forward to finding the older seaside villages.
At this point I would also like to add that we have found the French to be welcoming, courteous and hospitable. Using our broken French and their broken English we have had little problem getting around, ordering food or generally doing anything.
1 comment:
lol not a slacked now :P
I'm sure it's against international law not to drive through the Mt Blanc Tunnel.
Any way it's been good seeing we've you've been, and sit waiting in your suitcase for where we go next :P
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