Three Countries In One Day
SST has achieved much in her life, but camping was one experience she hadn’t conquered. Until now. Our campsite in Boscaglio (so amazingly beautiful, pictured above), near Genova, was basically a rocky outcrop at the top of a hill. Thanks to the joy of the pop-up tent (thankyou Quechua, any sponsorship gratefully received), ‘extreme camping’ turned out to be remarkably easy, perhaps more so than the journey back up the cliff walk at the end of the evening – not drunkenness, just too many darn steps (the first photo shows the end of the descent). That's not to say, of course, that we didn't reward ourselves with a well earned 'spritzaperol' on the beach after setting up camp.
On Tuesday morning, we set off with Monaco and Cannes in our sights. Our lunchtime hunger* took us to Bar Franco in Pietra Ligure, where we ate gnocchi with pesto as Liguria is where this originated from (cue relevant picture of SST with Italian cookery book). The elderly chef who cooked for us seemed pleased with our clean plates and effusive thanks. After a quick chat with him we took a wander around, stumbling upon the most phenomenally beautiful church, hidden down an alley of shops selling beach inflatables and sunglasses. No pictures and no directions I'm afraid, as I think the meandering wander and discovery is what made it extra special.
Heading on in the tiny jeep, with Katy the satnav as our guide, we crossed the border into France. We obviously looked so chuffed with ourselves that the toll guard offered to take our photo. Very generous, even more so because as a result he forgot to charge us any toll (I like to think it was a gift).
France would have to wait though, because the principality of Monaco beckoned. What a weird place. SST and I parked in the Calcuttan heat of the casino car park and donned heels, make-up and, Uke at the ready, set off to bring joy to the hoards.
Monaco is very beautiful and yet very full of tourists and very full of rich people and very full of buildings and very full of cars and very full of yachts. (I do have some lovely photos of it but am now standing outside a closed campsite reception and can't upload new photos).
Instead, ye must make do with, firstly, a photo of SST and I, looking absolutely chuffed to bits, another recurring theme of this journey....
Followed by us trying, in vain, to do a cool Monaco pout, as though we are millionaires....Armed with the ukulele, our voices and a bad sense of rhyme, SST and I strolled amid the yachts of Monaco, playing and singing, and receiving various smiles and raised caps (both of which mainly from old men and bored looking yacht crews). As well as our by now well trodden repertoire of covers, (Living on a prayer, Underneath the stars, Rire, The La Bamba medley) we wrote as we walked - a new song called 'L'Histoire de Monaco'. I believe SST's greatest line was 'we arrived at six o'clock, we headed straight for the dock', whilst mine was surely 'Histoire de Monaco, A lovely place to go, it's the place of the casino'. Those of you who doubted my genius, read and weep. After a couple of hours of this nonsense, and having given a command performance to some lovely girls who were also travelling, SST and I lost the carpark for a while, then headed off into the evening - hungry once again. On to Cannes!
Our two challenges - where to camp, and where to eat. Having driven around for a while with no success, technology (in the form of the i-phone) saved us once again. Really though, as a traveller in the modern age, I have utter techno-joy (not techno-fear). We found a campsite. Hurrah! It was closed. Hmmmm. As we sat in the jeep by the locked gate, a lovely couple in a car, drove up behind us and 'bleeped' the gate open via remote control (see techno-joy above). Inside, all was dark, no security, no one to talk to. Until, ten minutes later, a very angry looking man came up and demanded to know how we had managed to enter private property and, basically, what the hell we were doing there. Several stumbling apologies, excuses and a lot of fluttered eyelashes later, we were driven to a pitch in the (now very jolly) man's golf cart, after said man had been to the on-site restaurant and made them stay open for us. Happy days.
A couple of hours, a couple of meals, a couple of pichets of wine later, the last tables of people were sitting finishing drinks. SST and I decided to pull out the last performance of the day. As I gently strummed the opening chords of 'underneath the stars' and our voices melded in perfect harmony... we cleared the entire place before the end of the first verse.
Onward to Carnoux-en-Provence the next day, but just time for a quick dip in the sea at Cannes beforehand. Do we look chuffed with ourselves? Of course we do!
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