Italy bound...

Up at 7, quietly pack, breakfast of bread and jam and good byes to our new best friends and at the train station in plenty of time for our 10am departure. A Herald Tribune and a moment of pnick to find the right car we settle in across a silent Italian and a Japanese tourist who makes multiple cell phone calls trying to book a room for tonight. We are seated on the left side of the train going backwards. I'm sure the folks on the otherside are getting quite bored staring at the blue of the Meditarian and the redicoulously oppulent yaghts while I watch signage change from French to Italian, architechure get more tropical and the mountains get taller.

Again old news but that's the way this intermittant internet thing is going to work. At least in Italy they have the right keyboard configuration but there is only one comptuer at this hostel. Many of the travelers have their own laptops and are lined up at the windows at the end of the hall stealing wifi from the neighbors.

Having a great time.....wish y'all were here!

Nice walk...

Left hostel around 11am. Sarah had pulled nameso fo laine (wool) shops out of the phonebook. While sitting on edge of a fountain we reviewed a map and discovered several in the vecintiy. Three yarn stores later it's time for lunch. But first the toilets at Nice Etole-Nordstrom's on steroids. Picked up hamd and cheese and butter on bagettes with slice of flan for desert at snack counter there and ate it on marble bench at Place Massena. Then a definate downer at Handicap International event across the street raising awarness for victims of land mines. Next we're off to see the chateau. The long hard climb up uncountable steps puts us on the site of Nice's original count's townhouse-replaced now by a siovenier shop and one hell of a back drop for the 3 weddings we witnessed. Eventually bored with the view of the beach curving away west to the airport we heded down, past the jewish cemetary, into the maze of narrow streets in the old quarter for beer and tea at Antonia Cfe at the edge of the croweded little square in front of St. Bascus(?) church. Now sufficiently tired and a little cranky we head back to the hostel for some down time. We make note of an inviting resteruant to return to for dinner.

We won't be alone tonight. There are packs and clothes scattered about our room and an unconsicuous female corpse on one of the top bunks. A couple of quite showers and a computer fix we are off to dnner. Our chosen place turns out to be a German resturant with plates piled high with steaming sauerkraut toped with sausasge and pig knuckles. Oysters and seafood also a specility so I had a perfect whole grilled dorrey while the fish and I watched Sarha enjoy duck fois quais and salad neioise. Sarah hits the wall as we leanve so it's off to the hostel for bed. Two of our young roommates shortley arrive and I invite Michael to check out the bar around the corner. After jokes about getting permission from our wives we spend a perfect 2 hours drinking beer n a sidewalk table as the other boisterous customer finish their meals and we solve many of the world's problems from US and Austrailian points of view.

Of course that's 0ld news now. We have been in Genova for about 36 hours.

Hostel life...

Had an address, a phone confirmation that a room is available, a tourist map and bus 98 from the airport where we dropped off the car. Got off a stop too late. Back tracked counting streets and looking down alleys. I shouldered our green luggage/backpack and my day bag. I hear the wheels of Sarah's carry-on click clack along the pavers behind. The 3 story sunflower yellow hostel behind a lavender gate sits in a residential area a street paralleling the shopping district. The guy at the desk speaking heavily accented English checks us in, gives us each a sleeping sheet and directs us to room 201-a mixed (coed) dorm. Up 2 flights of cracked marble steps our key card lets us into a very clean room with 3 sets of bunk beds, a small yellow table matching the 50s style of everything else, a sink and bathroom and a 12 ft window opening onto a small baloclny overlooking the somewhat shabby paved courtyard. Tossing our luggage on two lower beds and locking our valuables (mostly meds) in the little padlocked cabinet we are off to explore the city.

We return after dinner; pay 2 € for 30 min of computer time and 2€ for a beer, we check our email and make a rushed post on the blog. We settle in for bed releaved that we are alone until around midnight when 3 Filipano exchange students appologetically arrive after a pilgramige to Lourdes. Up at 8 after a cacophony of alarm clocks we dress in a flooded bathroo, and share a single sink to wash and brush. Included breakfast of coffee, juice, bread, butter, jam and cereal is in the communal room down stairs. Some people packed and headed out but most sleepily getting fueled for their day. Couples and small groups of friends-mostly young; two women with small children and quite a few of us seasoned (read senior) travelers? Even an elderly couple with hubby in a wheelchair.

Tomorrow--Genoa.

Nice in Nice

Arrived Nice today. Checked in to youth hostel to save a buck then spent 80 e for dinner of bouillasse. Know where our priorities are. Sunset on Med was glorious.

Why?

Why do we do this? This travel, this sojourn, this wander? Ouest for meaning? Need to experience new things? Opportunity for escape? All good reasons. But why are we, Sarah and I, here? Vacation? Sure. Although I would rather refer to it as lifestyle. A break from work or a certain complacency  at home? An urge to observe and experience how some of the other 2 billion of Earth's people exist? To realize it is not just us? We are not alone. And, we do it because we can. 

Sitting on a white plastic chair at a white plastic table at a brasserie on the town square of Gonfaron. The old stone church stands strong and silent to my right. In front of it, what was probably once lawn, now space for parking. Three and four story buildings form a continuous wall around the parameter. The only difference of one from the other is the color of the ground floor shop or the shutters of the apartments above. Tourist and locals alike sit under the various cafe awnings sipping coffee or beer. We watch as a wizened old man in tattered brown jacket takes an eternity to slowly shuffle across the square. A nodded greeting, a twinkle and a smile for Sarah when their eyes met. Cane in one hand and shopping bag in the other he is met with the French double kiss on the cheeks by the owners of this establishment and helped to sit at one of the few other tables taking up the width of the sidewalk. Church bells chime out noon and Sarah gets pooped on by the pigeon on the window sill above. Tractors pulling small trailers filled with dark purple clusters of grapes ramble along the narrow streets  on their way to the local winery leaving a sweet heady smell in their wake. Women hurry by with shopping bags full, baguettes sticking out, on their way to their big noon meal. Stores preparing to close for their customary 2 hour break.

So, it's lunch time. We walk around the square and settle on a small restaurant down a side street. Tables with red Kronenbourg beer umbrellas guard against the sun. From the interactions of the waitress, mostly locals seated here. Water from an ancient fountain flows into a stone wash basin as cars and trucks and the occasional tour bus recklessly pass each other on the narrow highway running through the middle of town. Today's "Formule du Jour" of salade mixte, paupitte de veau, riz, legumes and 1/4 liter of vin for 12.50 is written in chalk on the sign hanging from a tree. The closest translation I can find in my dictionary for "paupitte" is "eyelid". Order it anyway. Hey, it IS on a menu! Ground veal wrapped in bacon and tied with string in a rich brown sauce with mushrooms. Yummm.....

Our planned tour de circuit continues as we drive thru old cork oak forests. Trees peeled bare to the height of a man. Roads winding nauseatingly over mountain ridges. Narrow enough to require drivers to slow down and hug the edge to pass. We stop in Collobrieres hoping to get gas. Told by the lady at the tourist office that the only gas station is closed today. Will risk the drive back on 1/4 tank but in the meantime we walk the 12th century town crossing the bridge built at that time and get lost in the ancient old streets and alleys to the ruins of the old church above the town. We drive to Monastere de la Verne after passing a sign that warns of narrow winding road. You've got to be kidding!!! Only had to back to a wide spot once! The monastery, rebuilt several times since 1174, is now a cloister for nuns and a exhibition for tourists on the sight originally of a pagan temple dedicated to the god Laverna, the protector of thieves. Spiritual, if one is so inclined, but certainly one big impressive stone structure. 

We make it back to Cogolin where we can buy gas and spend some time in the Cyber Cafe checking email. Too time consuming to try to post this blog with the strange keyboards of France. The "M" is where the ";" is  and the "A" is where the "Q" is and you have to shift for a "." as well as all numbers! 

Tomorrow is a day to stay close to home. (And probably post this) We have to pack and get ready to travel. We plan to return the car to Nice on Friday and then go to Genoa, Italy. Because we can...because we must.

We ok

Found a cyber cafe near La Garde. But will retun with my computer later. Key board is weird and it takes to much tie. We are well;

Rubbing shoulders with yachties....

Coffee or tea and beer for me. We spent yesterday driving about 60km north to the Grand Canyon du Verdon. Not as long as our Grand Canyon but reputed to be as deep and certainly as impressive. Winding single lane roads hugging the edge. Motorcycles passing between us and oncoming traffic! Small villages and the occasional castle visible on the opposite side. Being such a difficult drive, several stops in quaint (can't use that word enough to describe the country villages) towns for a bit of a rest. Of course getting lost on the way is part of the charm. Of course, IF I had a decent navigator who can see the little writing on the map and match it to a sign on a road and IF we had at least one compass in the car that did not always show north to be toward the metal in the dashboard, and if asking directions was even an option...thank goodness for roundabouts. When in doubt, keep going around. I wonder if there is a limit as to how many times one can circle these things? There is a road that circles the entire gorge but we didn't see a real need to add an additional 50km to a trip that I can't really see anyway since, I'M THE ONE WITH HIS EYES ONLY ON THE ROAD! Am told there is rafting down there and I have to assume the climbing would be great but being the tourist that we are, we only manage to stop at the occasional overlook and go, "Wow!!". 

Got back to La Garde after dark. Hooked up with the dentist (see above post) and caught dinner in town at one of the last open restaurants. We both had the plate de jour of pasta with mixed seafood in a light tomato and olive oil based sauce. Oysters were available but at almost $3 each, I declined. Then home to our small comfortable abode to bring in the laundry that had been hanging in the rain all day and listen to the critters preparing for bed in the walls. 

Now in Port Grimand. Had plans to catch boat to St Tropez for the day but after a late start and choppy seas we decided to just hang here. And, this bar has internet access. La Bohemia, a low brow oasis in a sea of very high end yachts and people. Port Grimand is the "Venice of France". A developed community of townhouses each with their own private boat parking and shops for all the tourists who come to gawk at the boats. Like Disneyland but instead of the Magic Castle you see masts and money! This bar, my kind of bar, has a paper back lending library, a lounging room with TV and some teenager crashed on the beatup couch and on Sat. they are have "Cross Dress Party"! 

The simple life...

Sitting out under the chestnut trees after dinner. A fine cigar, cheap wine, my page light by a candle shoved into an old wine bottle....which in the gentle breeze flickers, burns fast and drips onto the tablecloth. There is an oil lamp here-one of those contemporary glass jobs with the oil reservoir blowen inside of a column of glass. No oil and no wick however. Plenty of olive oil around thought. Just need a wick. Cotton cordage, woven thread (thank you, Sarah), a cut up sock (smell of burning elastic), a strip of sheeting...none worked. Technique, methodology or material?  I now write by the glow from the window. The simple life...

No telephone, no TV, no computer. Sarah and I both admit we miss communication--news, entertainment, connection with friends and family. The leaves talk to the wind. A dog barks in the dark distance. The simple life...

We built a fire against the cold. Dinner of leftover mashed potatoes topped with chicken from lunch, a bit of leeks, covered with cheese and baked. Accompained with bread, olives, and salad of greens, pine nuts, carrots and aoili provencial, the local mayonaise. The simple life...

This morning I walked into the village. Shopping bag under my arm, it's market day. Vendors on the square selling cheese, meats, olives, spices, flowers, scarfs, jewlery, even mattresses. I return with bag full of jam, potatoes, almond croissant, roasted chicken and of course, bagette. After lunch, a nap. The simple life...

Visited with the neighbors, petted their dog, planned an excursion to Grand Canyon du Verdon, drank rose' from an unmarked bottle. The simple life...

Lost a crown off a back molar the other day. Glued it back on with some temporary dental filling I've been carrying in my first aid kit for 15 years. Got the name of the only dentist in town from the board outside the Office de Tourism. Noticed light in her office this evening. Thought I'd make an appointment for the next day. Was asked "what's wrong" in broken English and told to wait. Fifteen minutes later I'm in her only dental chair and without asking my name, no forms, no medical history, and no gloves my crown is glued in place perfectly. For 35 eruos! Ah, the simple life.....

Had more consistent internet connection in Nepal than I have here. Even if it was powered by a line of car batteries there! According to the tourist office in La Garde Freinet the closest internet is in Grimaud about 30 min. away and that isn't wireless. Cost 10c/min. and I couldn't get connected to our blog. If you are reading this it means we have indeed found some way to connect. Have not tried yet to drive around checking for hot spots but Sainte-Maxime is suppose to have wireless in their downtown area so I think we will check out Stainte-Maxime today. Our plan to go to Port Grimaud, catch a boat to St. Tropez in time for their weekly market got foiled by us sleeping in till 11!!  That's ok. It's a bit overcast today. Doubt we would have seen Jennifer Lopez who was reportedly hanging there. We could have gone to the 20th anniversary party of the English language radio station in Monaco yesterday. Heard the Prince made an appearance. I assume that is THE Prince and not Prince!? 

The cottage is all clean. At least to our satisfaction. The refrigerator is stocked with beer, cheese, juice, pate', sausage, olives. Had planned to have dinner in town last night but while watching the rain from under the awning of Le Petit Bar sipping beer and cafe au lait we decided to stay home. Lintels spiced with the local provence herbs over rice with salad and aioli mayo and a bit of bread and butter seemed to suffice just fine. Although cool and wet outside we were cozy surrounded by thick stone walls and the soft yellow glow of our kitchen light. The vase of sunflowers on the table like a scene from Van Gogh.

Now we sit on our little stone patio listening to the wind whisper through the chestnut trees and the occasional car accelerating up the highway in the valley.  Sarah starting a new knitting project and I'm doing, well, pretty much nothing but drink coffee. Should think about lunch at some point. Hum, what kind of cheese will we have with our bread today and should we have pate de carnard or maybe a bit of leftover pork sausage. Of course a glass of Domaine De La Giscle, a Cotes de Provence at 3 euro would go lovely with that. 

We drove to Grimaud and Cogolin on Thurs. Grimaud for internet connection, a bust, and Cogolin to hit the big supermarket, E. Leclerc. Like wal-mart for groceries it had EVERYTHING. Grocery carts are chained together requiring 1 euro to unlock but the plastic hand baskets also have wheels. I did find out an alarm sounds if you try to take these thru the checkout! No "paper or plastic" here. Most people have these huge tough plastic bags that can be purchased at the checkout or they simply take everything loose back to their car to load their own shopping baskets. And the food...isles of cheese, displays of pate' and terrenes, black as night blood sausage coiled in the meat counter; fish, big and small, squid, eel, snails; more cheese; milk unrefrigerated on shelves; an entire isle of chocolate; more 3 euro bottles of wine than expensive (altho they do have a walk in wine cellar I did not investigate). No extensive shelf space for chips or soda and little cheap candy. Little processed foods--no Spaghetti-Os. 

Starting to rain. Back inside to fix lunch then off to explore. Thank goodness for small cars. No huge SUVs here. Streets too narrow, parking to tight and roads too curvy.

So, obviously we hooked up. Took a drive to St. Maxime, (any excuse for a drive), a conversation with folks at tourist office, then harbor office until finding Internet Cafe. We drove all over several closer towns with the computer open trying to find hot spots to no avail. Folks are either more sophisticated in France or tighter with their wifi. So, obviously also, postings may be few and far between. Don't know how we are going to get our electronic fixes. (Sarah is worse than me!) 

Until our next connection.............

Arrival...

Awoke this  morning watching the dark rough hewn beams of the ceiling slowly appear from the  whitewashed plaster as dawn's light enters through windows set in 2 foot thick walls. We arrived yesterday (the 16th) after pretty much uneventful travels except for being awake most of 24 hrs, a screaming 2 year old on the plane, dealing with flight anxiety (mine--and I like to fly!), the rental car being more than we expected (no surprise there), missing the turn south off the freeway (or whatever they call it here) and having to go an extra 20 km costing 8.50 euros, not having the correct change at two toll booths and holding up the line while the attendant impatiently shows me how to slide a large bill into a change slot (duh--just like we have in America!) and both of us cranky and rummy. Since we did have enough light we decided to drive on rather than stay on the road near Nice. After one false turn out side of La Garde Freinet we found the over grown and rutted driveway to Chris's place pretty easily and was immediately welcomed by an enthusiastically barking German Shepherd who wasn't going to keep me from getting out of my car. Turns out she's friendly and playful and has alerted her owner, Rasthmus, the neighbor who helped me find the water and electric junction boxes and welcomed me to the neighborhood. Too tired to do much more than toss some sheets on the bed and drive into town to eat at the first restaurant for dinner, we were in bed and asleep by 9:30. 

This 400 year old house has been in Chris's family for some years and since his mother died it has been sitting empty. Usually someone from the family makes a yearly sojourn to clean up the place and do general maintenance but not this year. So, today was cleaning day. After washing out a couple of cups Sarah made tea she found while I gathered all the towels that have been hanging since last human occupancy and did laundry in a plastic bucket. Our game plan next dictated that we would clean the bedroom so we could unpack and feel comfortable. Besides it was going to be easier than cleaning the kitchen. Cob webs pulled from the ceiling, rugs shaken outside, rat shit brushed from table tops to floor to be swept out with leaves and dust. Sarah shrieking when she is surprised by a scampering lizard. Then break for lunch. 

La Garde Freinet sits at the end of a valley as it starts rising into the mountains. An old town of stone three story buildings shoulder to shoulder it was obviously built for another era.  Even our little Sazuke Swift has difficulty navigating the narrow winding cobblestone streets. Today was market day so we bought provisions for dinner but nothing needing refrigeration. Our kitchen hasn't been cleaned yet, remember. Lunch at one of the several restaurants bordering the square. Sarah had a salad de provincial  of lettuce, sliced tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, olives and tuna with a creamy vinaigrette dressing while I had something I couldn't guess by reading the menu but was told by the waitress/cook that it was sausage, ham and eggs all mixed together. Served in a earthenware dish with a conical lid (I don't remember the name of this) it was mixed up to point of looking like Alpo but, my, was it tasty! A stop at the ATM and the tourist center (no internet in town, nearest supermarket is 12 km south, there is one store that sells knitting supplies (had a limited and apparently very old inventory), might be able to buy hardware items at the only gas station (one pump) in town) rounded out our break, so it was back to the house to clean the kitchen. 

Chain saw and weed wacker put in the shed. Fire place scraped out. Flat surfaces cleaned of dust and more rat shit. Mostly rat shit!  Dishes stored on open shelves. Sarah washed the top shelf, saving the lower on for later. We now have a few glasses, a pan or two to cook in and an expresso machine ready to go. Hand made windmills and whirley gigs crafted by skilled but bored hands are set on the hutch in a place of honor.  

Finally, after showers, dinner of wine (2.70 euro and good), cheese, bread, salami and olives on the flagstone back patio as the wind blows through the lush leaves of the cork oak and the shadow creeps up the mountain across the valley during the last moments of daylight. 

Our bags are packed. We're ready to go...

we're leaving on a jet plane at 1pm on Monday: Portland, Amsterdam, Nice. Only have an hour between flights in Amsterdam. Can't say I'd be too upset if that didn't workout forcing a 24 hr layover. We arrive in Nice around 2pm. Rent a car and get the hell out of Nice. For now. Plan to drive out of town a ways and stay in whatever smaller town we land in before dark. La Garde Freinet is only about 1 1/2 hours from Nice but I really don't want to get there in the dark and try to a) find the town, b) find the house, c) figure out how to turn water and power on, d) figure out how to get in the house, e) find toilet paper! 

Originally we wanted to go with one large duffle bag and our carry-on but we now have one large duffle bag, a smaller soft bag (these are mine) and a large rolling bag (Sarah's) to check. Could get everything of mine into the duffle but then it goes over the 50lb limit. Big is not always better!! We also have to take into consideration smaller travel bags for when we hope to catch a train for local exploration. 

Maps show where we will be holed up. La Garde Freinet nestled in the mountains is about 20 min. from St. Tropez. Our home, once isolated and private, is now, as evidenced by Google satellite, surrounded by large homes (villas?) with pools of blue rectangles. I have read that this area has become a bit of a bedroom community for folks of means from the coast area.

We actually have all our ducks in a row. Can you believe it? Of course we haven't done anything other than herd those ducks for the past 3 days. Three trips to REI, two to the bank, research into why my computer seems to be getting hot (probably a fan out but no time to get it fixed prior to trip so will limp along and hope), call from travel agent yesterday to inform us that NW Air has canceled our return flight so we had to reschedule. I chose a later departure from France (the 16th) rather than a 5 hr layover in Minneapolis! 

Octoberfest in Munich. Hum?

Lifestyle...

Getting close now. Done with work. Have a few days till official start of our vacation on Monday. I keep telling Sarah, "It's not a vacation. It's a lifestyle". Has a certain ring to it. We fly out around 1pm. Housesitter arrives the day before with traveling companion to get "lined out" on all the idiosyncrasy of the house and the difference between garbage and compost. It's amazing how much we take for granted in how a home is run. Push the wrong button and the porch light doesn't come back on. Ever! When is recycle day? How do you water plants that are sitting on a shelf 15 ft high in the dining room? How do you get in touch with the vet and just how much IS ok to spend on the cat! I have pages...

Sarah has packed clothes 3 times. I have set aside a pair of boots! Tomorrow I'll clear the bed and make piles. Travel clothes, work clothes, casual clothes, beach wear, dress up out to dinner attire. Where's the "little black dress" when I need one? Work boots, tennis shoes, comfortable walking shoes, clogs for the airports, flipflops, black shoes for evening....how does one decide? Underwear is easy....4 pair...one for each week! 

Then, what do we carry all this crap in. We have enough luggage to open another Latham's. But what combo is best? The giant duffle with wheels, the size of a crime scene body bag and able to carry enough weight that FedEx won't even take it; or a couple of smaller rolling Eagle Creeks. And that's just to get all our shit to La Garde-Freinet. What about when we ditch the rental and grab a train. Lighter, simpler, smaller:  better. Almost need a mathematician to calculate the possibilities. Of course we could take a couple of carry-ons and a credit card!

We go with no agenda. I met last night with my neighbor, Chris, whose house we will be staying in. After telling me how to turn on the lights and water and where the best boulangerie is in town and which neighbors will help and which one's won't; he preceded to give me a tour of Provence. Driving with his finger over fine yellow lines on a series of old Michelin maps he described medieval walled towns, Roman ruins, nude beaches and geographical wonders. I found out about abbeys, monasteries, and churches. Olive groves, vineyards and fishing villages. Supermarkets, quaint cafes and 5-star restaurants. And I remember nothing!! All those French names sound the same to me. And as I told Sarah..."If we sit and do nothing; we'll be sitting, doing nothing in Provence!"