Yamba to Geneva
& on to Avonnex… And further still
We have a brand
new very best friend – Barbara; and she drove us to the airport at Ballina at
the beginning of this trip. She is house–sitting our place for a while as she
has bought a home in Oyster Cove but it is being used as a display home until
the end of October and therefore she can’t occupy it. We flew down to Sydney on Saturday 16 Aug
saving $100 each by travelling then instead of on Sunday 17th. This
was fortuitous as the “Wharf Review” was on and we got tickets – probably the
last two together from what the booking agent said, and we had a Ball. Some
bitingly satirical stuff but all hilarious!!! Brother-in-law Brian dropped us
at the International Terminal a bit after Noon on Monday 18th so the
whole build up to our departure was relaxed and easy – except for Grant Hackett
being bumped out of a history making Gold in the same event in three successive
Olympics. Quel domage!
Qantas “Frequent
Flyer Points” provided us with our flights - but boy they don’t make things
easy for their users! I tried to find
the dates we wanted and do the entire booking on-line. That didn’t work because
I couldn’t get into the list of available flights on the rest of the ‘One World’
hook- up of airlines so I did the lot by phone (and paid an administration fee
– in points, of course). The flight over ended up being bout 30 hours because
it took us to Hong Kong (change planes and carrier), London (another change
of plane and carrier) and finally to Geneva where out brand new Citroen C3
motor vehicle awaited us – after we got out of the airport on the French side.
The distributor collected us in a shuttle bus and finalised the paperwork - a
highly efficient operation. He said that the Aussies, the Kiwis and Brazilians
in that order buy the majority of his new car sales and he appears to be doing
rather nicely thank you – as we were carrying out all of the bumf necessary,
there were two – count them, 2, car carriers parked in the street outside – one
delivering new cars and the other taking away the ones which had been handed
back at the end of the lease period. They were heading off to an auction yard
after a very short amount of use. I think that the “buy a new car on a
guaranteed buy back basis and have it charged as a lease with full registration
and insurance” deal will suit us. We did the whole deal on line and then sent
the paperwork to an agent in Frankston – but they have agents all over the
World. All one needs is to be a non European citizen. Their web site is www.drivetravel.com
One of our French acquaintances said that her brother who now lives in LA
always uses them as it guarantees him a brand new vehicle and no hassles with
alleged damage to a rental company’s car – and she doesn’t have to get him to
and from the airport.
The car comes
with 10 litres of fuel and the operator points out the closest refuelling point
on the way to his holding yard – about 500 metres and right beside a large
supermarket where we could do a mini stock up and also get some Euros out of a
‘hole in the wall’ so all of that is good too.
Catherine’s unit
in Avonnex (near Taninges which is close to Cluses) has a fantastic ‘Sound of
Music’ scenery view and is small enough to be cleaned easily on the last day
and large enough to be really comfortable. We are blessed to have such a
wonderfully generous friend who is prepared to lend us her apartment. Her
neighbours have been in to ensure that we’ve found everything and to offer
assistance – a good test for our fifty year old French lessons and our memory
of those lessons as they speak no English! I’d really like to come to this area in Winter
– there are approx 1600Km!!!!!!!! of groomed runs within 45 mins drive of
Catherine’s apartment.
Day one started
disastrously! This confounded computer would not boot up – now how much worse
could things be???! It was (understandably) a late start – 9ish when we finally
got out of bed so off into Tanignes to buy a few groceries and contact
Catherine’s friend Bernadette at the pharmacy as she speaks excellent English
and could advise us about finding someone to fix the computer. Well, there was
a market in town – not just the usual Thursday fruit & veg etc market in
Taninges but one for collectors and for bric-a-brac and old books etc. How
beaut! We browsed up and down the ‘quai’ where the stalls were laid out and
were intrigued by some of the items for sale like the wooden pitchforks one
sees in drawings of the peasants rising up in days of yore and cowbells the size
of small filing cabinets and ancient skis and old horse ornaments and hand made
steerable wooden toboggans as well as vinyl records, old post cards and
antiquarian maps on top of just plain bric-a-brac junk. While they have
excellent stalls and carrying vehicles, none of these vendors is as well set up
as those who travel the towns for the weekly markets selling fresh produce etc.
These folks have specially built trucks with refrigerated cabinets and the
fishmonger displays his wares, as does the butcher and the cheese seller or else
the truck has built in rotisseries to roast chickens etc. They are a tribute to
the weekly markets in all of the villages and towns around the area..
In the true
French tradition, the pharmacy was shut (open 9 – 12 then 2 to 7pm) so we
strolled to the far end of town to the supermarket and had a fine time
practising our written French while searching for our kinds of cereals, fruit
juice etc. We both enjoyed stirring up the old grey cells again. On the way
back to the car we called in to the pharmacy and spoke to Bernadette who
directed us to a computer store which had recently opened in the town. The lady
there has about as much English as we have French but we were able to establish
that Windows XP repair disc needed to be run and yes she has one – but it’s in
French and it may overwrite all of the Windows instructions from English to
French. Hmmmm well I can read basic French and I know the main Windows
instructions I need so let’s go ahead.
We headed off to
explore through a part of the Alps back to Lake Geneva and on through a
medieval village
of Yvoire – we MUST come
back here and spend at least a half a day exploring. The lady rang to say the
computer was ready but road works. a series of detours and heavier than usual
traffic through the tiny roads of the various villages meant we weren’t back by
her closing time of 7pm! Ah well,
mañana.
One of the spots
we travelled through was the ski resort of Les Gets. Perisher plus Thredbo and
probably the Victorian ski fields too would be dwarfed by the extent of this
resort – even though it’s touristy it doesn’t appear to be a big, brash in your
face rip your money off place. It’s a series of village homes, farm houses, ski
lift terminals, parking areas and all of the other necessaries of life
delightfully mingled with hotels, restaurants, fast food outlets and souvenir
shops etc. Some of the lifts were running and people were taking their mountain
bikes up for the thrill of the ride down. As well, there were carnival type
rides and bungy-trapeze trampoline thingos for other thrill seekers as well as
deck chairs lined up outside the bars for the sun-lovers to soak up the rays
while enjoying a beer or whatever. Most picturesque and laid back – yet still
busy because some kids are still on vacation.
Our second day
in Avonnex was a gem of a day so we picked up the computer (no it doesn’t speak
French – it just repaired itself in English), did a swag of shopping at the
weekly markets and then hied ourselves off to Chamonix and from there we took
the cable car to Aiguille de Midi which is a needle-like pinnacle of rock with
a needle-like building atop it. Simply the most wonderful spot from which to
view Mont Blanc. There are a number of
buildings up on top of this piece of rock apart from the ‘needle’ which is at
3842metres above sea level! We had a perfect
day! (and took just a whole raft of photos). The weather was perfectly clear
and blue so the scenery was stunning. The thing which struck us most (apart
from the scenery) was the number of rock and ice climbers clambering all over
the scenery – all weighed down with ice axes, crampons, ropes, backpacks and
assorted other paraphernalia. There were dozens of them and on a Thursday; I
just wonder how many would smother the place on a weekend. The excess gear they
have really puts a strain on the space available in the cable car. They count
the number of persons allowed per car and that number causes the car to
resemble a can of sardines then add to this a plethora of BIG packs – many with
sharp pointy bits and it can be very squeezy!
We had made a
reservation at an auberge in the South for the nights of 23 and 24 Aug so on 22nd
we headed off down through Combloux (which looks absolutely beautiful at this
time of the year and is yet another pretty ski village), Megeve (a large ski centre with lots of three
and four storey ‘high rise’ – lots in concrete but a total tourist town) and
Albertville (home of a Winter Olympics a lifetime ago) to Aix les Bains on the
shores of Lake Bourget (near Chambery) to drive down the Rhône Valley. The
flower baskets and displays in roundabouts are fantastic and it seems that in
some towns the entire population is involved in the floral beautification of
private homes and businesses as well as the public spaces. Quite a sight
really.
Leni owns the
auberge and she is a wonderful cook! So much so that she’s actually published
books of menus for jams and chutneys. Aurelie told us about both Leni and her
auberge as she and Michael visited there as well. It was very close to the
“Bambooserie” which has a display of probably every strain of bamboo from
around the world as well as an amazing garden which is the home of a strain of
bamboo which grows in France
without special husbandry. It was developed by the founder of the venture. From
the gardens we caught a little ‘Puffing Billy’ style steam train on a round
trip to St Jean de Gard, back past the Bambooserie to Anduze and finally back
to the Bambooserie. Anduze had a craft market in the town square or place so we
drove back and were amazed at the amount of pottery on display – it turns out
that this area is renowned for its pottery. Merran spotted a hand spun, hand
knitted / hand everything angora wool jacket which looked light and useful –
until she heard the price. It was probably worth every cent but much more than she was prepared to pay.
On our way to
the Camargue area south of Leni’s auberge, we dropped in on the Roman aquaduct
and viaduct – the Pont du Gard which we had seen on our first trip to France in 1976.
The bridge itself has not changed but BOY!!! Everything else has! There is now
a compulsory car park, a grand complex with eateries, galleries, toilets and a
theatre as well as concrete paths and “Thou shalt not” signs everywhere. One of
the big ‘thou shalt nots’ is walking across the top of the aquaduct – one can
pay and walk through inside the actual duct but not on top any more. Mike and I
did that in 76. The other big difference was the number of people enjoying the
water beneath the bridge – even hire canoes and pedal boats. All very colourful
but lacking that sense of discovery we had back when we just parked and climbed
and did our own thing.
In the Camargue
we had to do the total tourist thing
and take in a swamp tour by boat – that way one sees the birdlife – especially
the local flamingoes and (perhaps) the famous Camargue horses and cattle. The
French bullfights use the Camargue bulls which have horns which grow vertically
and don’t point forwards. The “bullfighters” are really fantastic athletes who wear
simple white shirts and trousers which give them the freedom to run around the
ring with the bull and try to remove a cockade of ribbons which have been
placed between the bull’s horns. The bull is never killed in these ‘fights’. The Camargue horses are white. But,
when born they are usually black! – sometimes brown and change to grey around
two years and to total white about eight. The person who tends the cattle rides
a white horse and is called a “Guardian”. While on our tour a guardian just
happened to bring her horses and cattle to an area adjacent to the bank
where the boat could pull along side. What a marvellous coincidence!!! A
similar “coincidence” occurred as we passed an area where some folks had set
their special fish traps. These traps are a large square of steel with a net
slung beneath which is lowered into the water. When the owner thinks that there
may be some fish in the trap he uses
his spring loaded recovery arm to pluck the entire device from the water with
much speed. One of the owners just happened to check his net just
as we passed – he’d caught nothing. Neville & Lyn were fortunate to have
similar coincidental happenings when they did their tour of the Camargue.
Weren’t we all VERY lucky.
The area of Provence in the hinterland behind the Riviera
has some of the “Most Beautiful Villages in France”. We’d been to a number of
them in 1976 when we toured with the boys and held very fond memories of narrow
cobbled laneways with window boxes of petunias and / or geraniums cascading to
make every nook and hidden cranny a spot screaming “take me!” Well nothing has
changed except for the large ‘paid’ parking areas and the far larger crowds. At
one spot called “Les Baux” (in 1976) we’d found a disused chalk quarry where
some folks had tried their hand at sculpture but which was deserted but
wonderfully cool in the height of Summer. The boys climbed and explored while
we parked the van in a vast cavernous ‘gallery’ left by the miners. Boy what a
change to this area!!! The gallery is now just that and displays of works by
French masters are projected onto the white chalk walls. A different artist is
featured each year. Classical music is ‘piped’ through the entire area to give
the right ambience. Both experiences have something to commend them. There were
many others such as Gordes, Roussillon and Opede le Vieux which we would not
have found without the wonderfully laid out book about France which
Catherine and Alice gave me for my birthday. Thank you again to them both.
There are some
rugged gorges in the South of France and we visited the Gorges of the Ardech
and the Verdon. The scenery is steep, rugged and beautiful with the rushing
waters of the rivers spotted with rafts and / or kayaks. I prefer the gorges of
the Lot and the Tarn because of their
delightful villages (mostly absent in the Ardech and the Verdon) as well as the
limestone ‘Causse’ regions there. In these gorges (which seem wider from
memory) people throw themselves off the cliff tops with a parachute attached
and ‘paravent’ along the cliff walls using the updrafts – all very scenic with
dozens of brightly coloured parasails dotting the skies above villages clinging
to flattish land on the sides of the river.
On our trip of
discovery in the Verdon Gorges, we drove on a side road which roughly
translates to the road of the cretins! And one needs to be a cretin to clamber
all over the cliffs which plunge I have no idea how many hundreds of feet to
the boiling rapids below. They like their outdoor activities these French. All
it did for me was make my palms clammy.
The
“Icing-on-the Cake” as far a pretty villages are concerned has to be St Paul de
Vence! We visited it in 1976 because of a travel booklet which sang its praises
and fell in love with its quaintness. It still holds that charm and the ability
to enchant. A wonderful thing happened to us here. We’d decided that we’d find
‘B&B’ type accommodation rather than hotels etc but did no bookings. We
think we now know the difference between an ‘auberge’ (a restaurant with a
couple of rooms available for rent), a ‘gite’ (a room or apartment available
for rent on a weekly self-help basis) and a ‘chambre d’hote’ (a room – usually
in a private home available for nightly rental – usually with breakfast). We
found this because we couldn’t locate any chamres d’hote and saw signs to a
gite which we followed, and followed, and followed – it was after all a gite
rurale. When we finally arrived at the gate the lady of the house was delighted
to find that we are Australian as she has been host to three families of
Aussies and enjoyed their company but explained the difference of a gite from a
chamber d’hote. She took us into the house and rang a friend who owns a place
with rooms and secured us a booking. She and her husband then led us in their
car to our newly acquired accommodation. The restaurant across the street is
owned by a lady who fled Persia
at the time of the revolution (and her husband). It was a wonderful night.
The God of
travel has been extremely kind to us and has shone Her light upon us like that
on at least three occasions to give us wonderful experiences. What She hasn’t
provided is internet access!!! The one place which advertised that it was
available had such poor connectivity that I was able to read my emails between
about 23.30 to 00.15 and then only by waiting “forever” for each message. I
‘Cherrypicked’ those to read and answer first!
From the South
of France, we ‘zapped’ across Italy
and through Slovenia to the Istrian Peninsula
of Croatia.
As we don’t like the large cities and towns for accommodation, we headed down
to the very tip of the peninsula to a Medulin where we found a place offering
“Zimmer, Camere, appartmenta, Rooms”. So I rang the bell to be greeted in
perfect English by a chap who was getting ready to go for a swim & so had
on two shoes but only one sock. His response when asked where we could find
email contact was that his daughter understood all of that – “I’m just a
retired professor of Literature and I don’t need to understand any of that – I
can use it as a typewriter and she can print it if I want it so we’ll ask her.
If I can find her as well”. While we brought our bags from the car he found his
daughter who set up her computer for us to be able to read any urgent emails
but not to be able to spend much time on the thing. All of which was wonderful
of them. While I was picking away on the keys, Merran was talking to Boris and
his friend Vesna (I’m happily divorced two times and I live here with my
daughter and my friend comes from Zagreb
to visit. I have a good life) about where we should go in Croatia to get
a taste of the country. Split and Dubrovnik were both too far South to fit into this trip so
they sent us first to the provincial capital – Pula which has a rich Roman history as well
as touches of the Austro-Hungarian heritage. It was an important Naval base for
Empress Maria Therese and has a roman amphitheatre as well as a theatre and
forum with a citadel on the top of its main hill. It is a fascinating town.
From there we drove along the coast of the Adriatic,
through Rietja to a small village south of there. The zimmer owner spoke no
English nor French. Just Croatian and German but we got by and she was able to
tell us that her aunt lives in Kingsgrove and visited in 2003 just after our
host’s husband had died. She also sent us to a restaurant called “Feral”. No
there were no domestic animals which had reverted to their wild state just a
delightfully located eatery right by a jetty with a yawl moored alongside. Its
name was ‘Nirvana’.
Now just another
wonderful traveller experience. The lass who came to wait upon our table had
very very little English and said ‘My colleague will come’. A young man arrived
and he was a delight. He spoke with an American accent and had recommendations
for what meals were different and traditional and what was just the run of the
mill fare one could get anywhere. We both decided on different traditional
Croatian dishes. Merran commented on his accent and (after having told us
previously that his house was literally the one next to the restaurant) he said
that he lives in Chicago.
His parents were both born I Croatia, met and married in USA but have bought a
place in Jodranova right on the waterfront where they all come to spend the
Summer. Ivo was attentive throughout – even though there was an attractive lass
on a motor scooter who came to visit the bar and talk to him and his friend.
The friend rode off with her on the scooter.
There are some
unspoilt towns and villages all along the Adriatic
but one needs a reliable means of transport to reach them. We had our picnic
lunch at one such place, tucked into a turquoise bay with a breakwall
protecting a tiny fleet of (mainly) pleasure craft and a quai about 120 – 150
metres long, a handful of homes and one restaurant. The road down (and back up
the same way) has a slope of 15%!!! I had been going to comment on one road we
drove on in Provence
which led to the source of a local river and it had a slope of 14% - cyclists
were riding up and down!!! As Crocodile Dundee would say “That’s not a slope –
THIS is a slope”. One town is definitely on the tourist trail. It’s Opatje and
it’s wall to wall grand hotels – each of which has taken over part of the
street, placed lockable traffic blocks and numbered each space to correspond
with the hotel room number. If you want to park in this town - “Get a room!”
Despite all of this, it has a wonderful feel of sheer opulence and “Old Money”.
Most of the hotels were built before WW1 and those which weren’t are ‘brand
new’ and glitzy not our style but certainly worth a look.
Boris and Vesna
both insisted that we HAD to visit
the National Park at Plitvicka Jezera. We’ve since found that Jezera means lake
and that the Plitvicka lakes (all 19 of them cascading from one to the next)
are listed on the UNESCO list of World
Heritage sites. We could see why. It is amazingly beautiful with the most
stunning blue to the water and then there are the waterfalls. A truly amazing
experience – especially since we’d stayed overnight in the area and were ahead
of the tour buses and their hordes.
Well, what have
been the highlights of our first three weeks, I hear you cry. As well as the
above, sitting on the ridge capping of a church roof in Stes Marie de la Mer,
climbing stone steps by the thousand to see “les beaux villages de France” we
certainly didn’t need our “vacation vorkout” list of exercises during this
section of the trip. Watching a balloon land in the vineyard outside our
chamber d’hote. Exquisite floral displays in the most charming villages with
shutters, pastel tones and cobbled streets (well more like lanes really). A street mime clown doing his tricks with
balloons in a square in the old town inside Ljubljana. Glorious panoramas from mountain
peaks with the bucolic pastoral scenery spread before us. The massive mountains
with their tunnels and bridges – 500metres of bridge 1500 metres of tunnel for
mile upon mile. In Oz we get excited about 5Km of tunnel here some run for
three and four times that length and are the followed by another of about the
same length. We’re just playing on the edges when it comes to road building.
After looking at all of the tunnels here it’s no wonder we got so many migrants
when the Snowy Mountain Hydro System was being built Travelling from Italy to
France in the Mont Blanc Tunnel (@ over €3
per Km) But most of all the generously friendly manner in which we’ve been
treated by the locals. Australia
rings a bell with Europeans and they seem happy to see us. The owner/manager of
the ristorante we stayed above in Mori just outside Trento in Italy looked at
our passports and came back to ask were we really all the way from Oz. When we
answered that we were he sort of unbelievingly asked: “But why are you here?”
Mori is not a tourist town and we found the café culture and the people
watching a wonderful way to pass the time.
