Category: Road Trip

This does not not read in order as EZE was sitting in draft and got overrun by my excitement at the cottage in Cotignac but have decided its worth finishing.

We head of to EZE early, as in Uber at 8.30, because that’s early now. We do this because one, it evidently gets very, very hot and secondly because evidently it gets very crowded with tourists arriving in buses at around 10.30.

We take an Uber because the bus schedule looks tricky and we aren’t quite sure where to connect, so we decide to Uber there and bus back once we know the lay of the land. I determine that our Uber driver is an ex Monaco circuit race driver or at least a wannabe one as he whips and winds up the little roads, back lanes and then highway to get us there. Safely delivered we begin the now infamous baguette walk and start climbing feeling the carbs quite literally melt away as it’s 26 degrees already. We are at the gates when the gardens open and with a few other early tourists we start to wander.

The views are spectacular and we are indeed pleased we came early as the paths are purely one way traffic. It’s hard to imagine them crowded. The gardens are dotted with these beautiful states of women who give of a “decontracte”, which I think or at least hope means “relaxed, easy going vibe”.

There are others dotted around, some with names and some without but all with an aura of grace. We wander up and around and as the heat builds so do the tourists. You can hear them before you can even spot a pointy umbrella. It feels out of place in this space and I bet I do know what Charlotte is thinking behind her masked eyes. The photo in the picture shows some umbrellas on a terrace so with the building foot traffic I think it would be nice to escape and grab a cafe au lait on the terrasse. We wind our way down but alas you have to be staying at the quaint little 5 star hotel to sit on the terrace or yet again book months in advance to dine in the restaurant. Silly me.

We find an alternative cafe and share a yummy omelette and pain with conserve for breakfast with Yet another very ordinary cafe au lait. I had as mentioned previously all but given up of ever finding a good one. We sit below the jasmine and watch the hoardes now pass us by, queuing behind the righteous selfie takers fixated on shoot, look, delete, shoot again.

We head to the bus stop and wait in the heat for the appropriate bus which eventually meanders in. Unfortunately we do not yet know the lay of the land and miss the stop and end up all the way back in Nice. We get off to find our faithful number 600 bus that we know 100% stops by our apartment and begin the double back to Ville-Franche. On the bus I see a couple of young girls who are wearing pounamu so I ask if they are kiwis to which they reply yes. We tell them of our missed bus connection and that we are circling back. We discuss where they are from and where they are going and share some stories. They nearly miss there stop as we tell them all knowingly where it is to get off to explore the village as we carry on up the hill.

Rested and watered we decide to head to Monaco in the late afternoon as we are leaving tomorrow and it’s just down the road. We hop on the bus and after a while think we are perhaps heading in the wrong direction, but hey at least it’s great scenery. We reach the end of the line and hop off to double back and get back on. Sound familiar. We are waiting for the bus to depart when the two young kiwis from earlier hop on the bus. They have visited a chateau and now after our this morning conversation they have decided to visit EZE as they too are leaving tomorrow. We tell them how to get there or at least how not to get there and given I have just told them that we are again on the wrong bus I am not sure they saw me as someone who gave good travel advice. Yet we made it to Monaco and home again.

PS.just in case you are wondering. Last nights birthday dinner did not disappoint.

Wow its pretty. It’s like postcard pretty. I chose this place not because of its location, in that it was somewhere that I really wanted to visit, but because the pictures of the cottage and its setting looked so enticing. It does not disappoint.

We follow the online instructions or at least think we do but end up in a loop. “Take the first left” it states, which we are sure we have. On our next loop we see a tiny lane that passes through the promenade, between two restaurants. Surely not, but yes that’s the first left. We follow the narrow road, and yes it is a two way road until we find the carpark and then we literally lug our luggage up the bumpy path. With sweat sliding down our faces, clinging to our skin and oozing from our clothing we make it to the gate. It does not disappoint.

It is as pretty in real life as in internet photos. WH and I have been nearly here before about 15 years ago. We stayed maybe 20ks down the road. It was my first introduction to hanging about in French villages and I am not yet tiring of it.

This morning was my birthday and it was idyllic. I wake to a view that is so typically French beauty that it belongs in a travel magazine. Happy Birthday messages beamed overnight to my inbox from those who I love and love me. A sentimental birthday card from my Mum, that has been carried on our travels to the other side of the world waits to be finally opened. All is well with the world. I am indeed a lucky girl.

We wander to the village market and find a coffee store that sells flat whites. I really miss good coffee and am tired of Nespresso or their look a-likes. There is queue out the Door but I figure that can only be a good thing. I am slightly nervous but then start chatting to an Aussie in front of me. She comes here to this place every year. It’s a ritual she tells me. She says she loves my hat and asks me where I got it and I tell her Greece. She got married there last week, in Patmos she tells me. My mind runs a bit as how and why and with whom but it’s a quick queue so that chat ends and I am left with the fact that people are interesting. The coffee is good. It does not disappoint.

Loaded with our lunch: a baguette, a lemon, a tomato, an avocado, and some incredibly expensive tapenade which is another story or at least a few sentences. The story goes sort of this way, we are both unsure how it quite happened but we were given little tasty bread morsels with yummy tapenades on which we nod to and they get put in a little bag. “Petite, Petite” I say. We have three bags now which are duly weighed and I get my 20 euro out of my purse. When the stall owner says 32 euro, I want to say WTF but I simply nod merci and rummage in my bag for a 50, I can hardly ask him to put it back, so it was purchased and a lesson learned. We shall be eating it for days and WH has already googled and it says it keeps for a week.

We wander back to our cottage and yes, yes, it is up another hill. I am consistently reminded of my Gran whose mantra I have told you before “do it now, while you have your legs”. You are not wrong Gran. I walk in anticipation of burning off the baguette that is yet to be eaten and tonight’s birthday dinner, which will of course simply must include dessert and I can only hope that tommorow I can tell you “it does not disappoint”.

We have been here before as it one of Mum’s favourites. It is just out of Nice and has great transport links, making it a great base. We have an apartment high above the bay, with a large deck and a great view.

It’s seems that everywhere we have been revolves around hills and steps with VilleFranche being no different. It reminds me of living in Brooklyn, Wellington whereby every time you walked in any direction the hill haunted you for the return.

The town is lovely though and we go up and down and around and then have a nice dinner at La Belle Etoille (in the pic below) before we wander home again.

Over the next two days we take a bus to Nice and enjoy the sights and then we take a train to Menton and wander the town which is pretty with a lot more ups and downs. The temperatures are in the late 20’s already and not even our little lunch restaurant under the trees feels cool today

I waited for ages for the above shot. There were two girls half way up who spent forever taking photos of each other, posing and hair flicking, big floppy hat on , big floppy hat off, looking over shoulder, looking front on. Then they would have to stand there and flick through and look at them all. Then go for another round. Usually i would do an eye roll and move on but it was cool standing down below,waiting in the shade, so initially not too big a deal. I could have just taken the shot but I didn’t want posers in it. In the end, with no patience left I pretended to be French and called “pardon, pardon”, and waved my hand for them to be shooed along, which worked. The lady next to me laughed and thanked me. I then took the shot and I like it. When we got to the top they were there again in front of the chapel and there was a young woman and her partner waiting to take a photo. “They’ll be a while”, I said and I moved on in the hope of getting ahead of them.

We were going to keep walking to the gardens in Menton but decided it was too hot and we head home, taking the bus instead of the train so as to hug the coast and enjoy the vista. Whilst standing at the bus stop in front of a little chapel WH says “hey read this”. Who knew. For now though we were heading home for a swim.

I really want to drop more photos in here so as such will have to put some words with them. We decided not to go down the garden path for breakfast instead we ate a banana and had a cup of tea. Saving ourselves for lunch.

Little interlude here. I was never really a breakfast eater, more a take it or leave it but now I am in the age whereby I have to eat at a similar time each day in order to take my medication with food. I choose to take mine at breakfast. Yep I even have one of those little pill box things in case i go out for breakfast and have to take them with me. I hate those little things. Yet here I am. I used to tell my dad that it was lucky he wasn’t a girl on the pill when he said “oops i forgot to take my pills”. I thought how hard is it when you do it every single day. Yet here I am. When they say put your medications in your carry on when travelling I used to pack a Panadol. Now between the two of us I nearly need a check list. My toilet bag now takes up half my suitcase filled with meds and vitamins and just in case items. I always extol the virtues of packing light, in fact I readily hand out advice on the subject. I say things like “you pack for 5 days and that’s it”, “you dont need large shampoos and conditioners”, “mix and match”., “pack a merino or cashmere and layer, and the real biggie “ do not under any circumstances pack, just in case”. Yet if I now pack my 40 year old self toilet bag which holds deodorant, moisturiser, sunscreen, shavers and toothbrushes and then another extra, extra large toilet bag packed with everything just in case. Just in case antibiotics, just in case stomach flu pills, just in case asthma attack inhalers, just in case eczema cream, just in case gout pills (that’s WH not me), just in case heartburn tablets, Just in case sleeping pills, just in case sore back meds, and i could actually now go etc etc etc but you get the picture. So yes spare the clothes and shoes and pack light and then take an extra bag to fit all your just in case all sorts of medical events, as well as the must have one in the cary on..

So back to breakfast. My point is that it is no longer possible to simply ignore so my trick is to buy bananas as they need no preparation and you can take your meds without having to worry about what’s for breakfast. Hence the banana and a cup of tea.

Back to the story. We wander down the garden path to lunch and eat under the red umbrellas looking down the valley. We ordered the Mediterranean delights and had chickpea frites with tartare sauce (not a fan). Sardine toast stuff with onions, which surprisingly I liked, especially covering up the sardine with tapenade. More zucchini flowers with tempura batter, some yummy dips and focaccia and a creamy risotto. Alas there was no room left for dessert so with a cunning plan we called at the store on the way home and bought a slice of apple tart, an apricot and custard flan with a punnet of strawberries. Dessert for dinner.

The village was on high alert as the French presidents wife was visiting with all the other presidents and prime minister wives. (I don’t know where the husbands of presidents or prime ministers were as no-one mentioned them.). We didn’t happen to bump into them on our wandering or our lunch but perhaps they ate at the one we had tried to book the day before without success. We had entered and asked for a table for two, “non, non”, “for dinner perhaps” I replied, “non, non, non” he says. “Tomorrow?” I ask. “Madame we are booked for tomorrow, for next week, and many weeks” he states. “Merci Monsieur” . I think that is where the presidents wife will be with all the other wives. They would have known to book months in advance.

We are to wander a different path back to our cottage as I would like to go to the famous sculpture museum, Fondation Maeght, which is on the way with a slight detour. Upon arrival we are met with a sea of gendarmes. On bikes, on foot, in big black cars and little electric ones. The road access is closed and we are stopped by gendarme with large guns and asked for ID. Luckily I have a picture of our passports in my phone (another must travelling tip) and he plugs them in his tablet and we are ushered through. We are stopped again to inspect our suspicious apple pie and apricot tart carrying bag. But luckily dinner remains in tact and we proceed. It’s interesting space and when it’s too hot you can go inside and look some more in the air conditioning and then head back out.

We hang about on the roof top terrace trying to work out which people are secret service, undercover. They sort of loiter about with the man bags or big coats which are far to hot for the weather, or they have bag packs slung loosely. We decide that the man bags and coats are to hide their guns. We watch as the beautiful presidents wife and assistants hand out ginormous Longchamp goody bags to the others and they sip cold drinks below us on the terrace. I really would like a goody bag and a yummy fancy cold lemonade with mint in, but alas I am not dressed in attire to impersonate a presidents/prime ministers wife.

Brigette Macron

I was so fascinated by the fact that everyone we spoke too spoke of the presidents wife. They crowded to take photos of her departing the village. She caused quite an excitement yet no one called her by name. “The presidents wife is here”. So whilst also wondering what the husbands of prime ministers and presidents were doing and if they did come to the museum and I mistook them for secret service, did they get a Longchamp bag? I also wondered who the presidents wife actually was, so I googled it. She is Brigitte Macron and she is a former teacher. She is 72 years old and 25 years her husbands senior and she used to be the prime ministers teacher. According to google that is. To me, Mrs Brigette Macron seems very interesting.

We are to stay in a little airbnb cottage that alludes in its bio that it is 500m from the village where I have been envisaging us, for months now, meandering to get morning croissants and coffee and then coming back and to have a dip in our lovely wee plunge pool, maybe pass the time with a book and then meandering back down for a meal de jour and a glass of vino. All is well with the world.

It’s nice to wake up in our own space and dawdle through the morning. We have no supplies whatsoever except for a mint teabag which I have in my handbag. We steep the tea and sit in the sun then decide to head to the village. We walk, literally down the garden path. Down 500m, down down 1000m, down down 1500m and it is now in sight. My thoughts cannot help but go to, up 500m up up up 1000m etc….

The village is wonderful and the length of the walk is soon pushed to the back of the mind as everything I love about wandering around in French villages is bought to the forefront. It’s a popular tourist destination but its as yet to early for them, so we sit under the shade of the plane trees, next to the big pétanque court and order a cafe au lait and a croissant.

We wander through the village and again I feel the calm. I cannot really explain it but it’s like everything slows down, everything feels unhurried, except for the nun and two little girls in what I am assuming is communion dress who bustle past us. Check out the photos, look closely and see the woman in her window potting up her window box, the dog fast asleep in the sun on the path, the lady locking her door and heading out for the day and the wisteria and the shutters and the perfume of the flowers. It’s Sunday and the church bells are ringing and the families are heading to church and there is not an umbrella waver or pointy pointer person in sight. YET.

Sunday morning

The church bells toll.

So we wander some more and then head down to be lead back up, up, up the garden path.

Once back in our cottage the heat of the day has melted us on our walk and we decide to plunge into our pool. But plunge we do not as it turns out its more paddling than plunge as its only knee deep. We wonder a little bit what gets lost in translation on the bio page but it matters not as it does the job and we lie in the cool knee deep water.

Theres one more scenario for the day as we head back down , down, down to a restaurant we had booked for our lunch on our morning trek into the village. We eat crispy bread with olive tapenade and truffle risotto and stuffed zucchini flowers, and then without hesitation dessert. Got to be some perks of all the hill climbing. Time to head home for another dip or paddle in the pool.

The timing seemed perfect when we saw a discounted cruise around the Greek islands. It meant we just do the epic long, long haul then jump on a ship whilst we sort the jet lag. We would land overnight in Athens and then spend 6 nights cruising around whilst someone else cooks the food, organises the transport and washes the towels etc. A few months after we booked our cruise it was cancelled but they offered us another one for the same price. It was a day longer but otherwise looked more perfect than the one we originally booked.

And now here we are. The cruise is with Silversea and the ship is Silver Whisper, there is about 300 people on here and the same amount of staff. One of the things I love about Silversea is that it’s all inclusive, you don’t pay for anything once onboard. Not at the restaurants or bars and best of all you dont have to worry about tipping. So not good for the waistline nor sobriety but definitely easy going. Our room was upgraded and we are in a beautiful suite which is beyond any of my expectations.

Silver Whisper

We head to Santorini and head of on a village tour of the island, which i must admit was rather boring in the spoken kind of way but the sights and sounds and sun make up for it all as we wander through the lives of the smaller villages in Santorini.

We visit Thira the capital and join the throngs of other cruise ship occupants and tourists. There are 5 ships parked up in the harbour and all of them much larger than ours. We find a lovely restaurant in an upstairs bar and sit in the corner to enjoy the view out to the harbour as well as the tourist ants walking below. The food is delicious as we dine upon a salad thing with promegranates and pistachio nuts along with all the other Greek salad things such as cucumber and tomato and feta it’s delicous. We then eat chicken thighs and potato and you can taste the aniseed and fig amongst the flavours. It doesn’t disappoint. We are supposed to catch the cable car back down to the ship but the queue winds its way around several blocks so we wander around some more, have a drink and come back after an hour or so whereby its still an hour and a half long. We decide to take the donkey route and climb down the 579 steps to the bottom.

The next day is Bodrum in Turkey. A visit to a castle a walk along the promenade. A fascinating tour guide who tells us things I can’t write about on here but will make good wine talk with friends at a future date.

Next its onto Patmos which shall be remembered for its very cute cafe, with very wonderful food. Think zucchini fritters with Tzaziki and of course WH had some sort of sausage thing, but they had this baked cheeses and tomato one which was served in a little clay saucer thing and it was brilliant. It reminded me of what Dad used to cook us from breakfast. Of course we just called it tomato and cheese but he would make it in an old chipped enamel plate which he would slice thick tomato slices into then cover it with cheese and a little bit of milk and cook it all up till it was runny and gooey. If you were lucky he would even break an egg into it and it would cook in the milky, cheesey, goo. Go on give it a go, its great.

The jet lag in check. The sun is shining. The people are lovely. The bed is comfy and I am indeed a lucky girl. I don’t really want to go outside of all this cruisey vibe but can i just say this. I think it’s rude to have your phone on speaker talking to your kids the whole time you are at breakfast. I do not care what they ate or when they went to bed or even how their day at school was. The other bug bear is I don’t want to hear the conversation of people three tables away. I don’t mean a mild hum or drone I mean literally every single word. Maybe it would be different if there conversation was remotely interesting or entertaining but alas it is not. I want to tell them you are not that interesting and let it be done. So perhaps my jet lag still lingers in me and i can blame it for my intolerance or perhaps i am simply getting old. I shall promise not to complain of loud dinner music or noisey children.

Glass half empty

We arrive at our hotel, sleep deprived but confident that the early check in we had requested would be available. The joys that hotel loyalty bring, with little jewel named levels of rewards and redemptions to keep your custom. The loyalty was however not rewarded and we are sent on our way with mention that check in is at 3pm however they thank us for our loyalty and will text us as soon as our room ready. So we tip a man for putting our bags in a cupboard.

We cross the road to the “Beverly Centre” billed in the airNZ app as “America invented the Mall so be prepared to be impressed”. We were not. We sit down in one of the very few cafes and have some lunch. The whole mall is so quiet it’s eerie and lunch is no exception. We wonder if its just because its a Monday or is retail really this badly hit. At the end of lunch the tipping nightmare begins, how much? Leave it on the table? Put it on the eftpos? what’s fair and what makes you a Scrooge? Our theory is we leave cash for the service staff as then you can be sure they receive it rather than on the bill. The thought process takes up too much time in our simplistic kiwi service tipping minds, where if its good leave some cash if not, don’t.

We go back to the hotel at 2.40pm to check if our room is ready and we are told that it is not and when it is, they will text us. We get a text at ten to three to tell us our early check in is now available.

As you can read between the lines I need to flip the glass.

GLass half full

We head to our room and our advertised balcony room with pictures of the hills beyond and potted plants on the balcony is a dingy balcony where the door is situated behind the desk and it looks straight out to a big blank wall of the Beverly centre. Ooops I forgot I flipped the glass, perhaps in hindsight I will just bullet point instead.

Had a shower to wash off the travel dust and germs.

We decide to do a hop on hop off bus and see the sights and make the most of the sunshine outside.

Hollywood star walk street closed because Oscar’s are on Sunday and its getting ready.

Not many other sites to see but learnt that there is lots of oil in California and we saw places that famous people had once stayed at or ate at or maybe walked somewhere. Which is actually not that interesting.

Got very very cold very quickly as the sun was setting and had no jersey. So as my skin bumped and my bones froze the words of travelling niece whispered in my ears.

Got back to hotel and had another shower to warm the bones.

Head to the restaurant for dinner. Eat. Average. Tip, how much?, It says On the bill that a gratuity of 21% is already added to the bill but then under that it says tip amount? Aren’t they the same? FFS

time for bed.

Wake up. Head down to meet yellow bus 1.5 km away. Hot, sunny not a breath of wind.

Pass a Ponsonby Road cafe. Yippeee. Flat white, just what the dr ordered. WH promise to come back tomorrow for a pie but for now on a missh to catch the yellow bus 1.5 km away.

3.7km later and multiple amounts of FFSing we board the yellow bus.

Heading to Santa Monica. Sunny, warm, not a breath of wind.

Arrive at Venice beach where we are going to hire bikes and bike to Santa Monica. Foggy, freezing, and no jersey in sight. Also not in sight is the Pacific Ocean.

We settle for some brunch in a cute little restaurant and are seated under a cozy heater and offered snuggly rugs. Brunch is good and warm. We head off and rent our bikes.

We bike along the ocean promenade and take in the view of the ocean hiding behind the fog. We can see the surf patrol huts and utes parked up and I can’t but help wonder what they will be doing today on the very empty beach with the hidden ocean.

The biking is still fun and the boardwalk empty and if you go fast enough its almost warms you up a bit.

We hit the pier and the end of route 66.

We ditch the bikes and wander with the tourists. We can finally see the ocean and the grey horizon begins to fade a bit and let some light in, but for us we hop on the yellow bus back to the warmth only a few kilometres away.

Day three: We decide we can’t be bothered renting a car and driving to Las Vegas so we stay another night at the hotel and go to Universal studios

It’s fun as we play Mario carts, ride the mummy roller coaster, and tour the movie lots. It’s a cruisey sort of day and it’s warm. Nicely warm and we make sure we head home before the sun gets to low in the sky. But just in case we have our jerseys, finally lugged around all day but never venturing out of the back pack.