Author: Grant and Barbara

The last time we were here was at the end of a Calais-Montpellier bike ride. The further south we went the wetter. White Carmargue horses were standing looking bedraggled in muddy water carrying placards reading “no photos today please”. The pink flamingoes were drooket: their placards read “fresh dye needed”. The roads were flooded.

Today the horses were taking selvies and admiring themselves in the mirror. The flamingoes had found the paint pot. The roads were fine, wind blown dry.

Leaving Salon-du-Provence there was an unstated assumption the whole population were hungover. The scooters had mufflers fitted as did the church bells. Not a peep,

We stopped in Arles – a grand market near the Roman Ampitheatre. Van Gogh has connections here. He arrived in 1888, aged 35, had a great busy period (painting, not going to the market), had a breakdown: twas here he cut of a bit of his ear. We didn’t visit the museum so we don’t know if they kept it.

A water jousting competition in Carmargue was a popular hit. They probably went on to eat the local delicacy: fennel flavoured snails.

Montpellier is reached by a bewildering variety of cycle paths going in random directions using any crappy surface they can find. It seems. Some interesting buildings kept up the entertainment.

Tomorrow a rest day…..

A delightful day ending in a great wee town with lots of buzz. The usual Roman history (on a major X roads), 12C Church and Castle etc. An added frisson of predictability: Nostradamus lived and died here in his later years (1566 when he was 63). I wonder if he had an alter ego called Nostrapraiseus.

Never having been to Provence before today’s mild weather allowed us to savour its rural delights. Vineyards, lavender fields, shrivelled oak forests. Villages atop of hills, cunningly disguised to look the same with a church tower dominating. Where are we, said the marauders – bereft of Google Maps? I don’t know, they all look alike. Nice though: let’s have a coffee and smoke and bypass the pillaging.

Salon de-Provence has a party on tonight. A 45000 town with 25000 folks expected for the disco DJ’s 200m away from where we’re staying. Hope the buildings are still up in the morning…..

Tomorrow into Montpellier.

Here’s a song about Nostradamus.

The nearest “town” is Aups. So twinned with Yorkshire. 10miles along the coast, turn right and continue up, down, up, around, up, down.

Passing through Glasse, known as the Perfume Town as many large brands make expensive liquids there. Nice pastries too.

Then lots of villages full of character, mainly empty (extended siesta) apart from the men outside sitting smoking and drinking coffee. There’s a recurring theme here.

A grand day, ending up in the Verdon Regional National Park.

Failed on the limerick – food took precedence. Maybe just as well. Barbara set the tone with her tale: Anne Rose sat on a pin: Anne rose.

Nice, capital of the Alpes-Maritimes department on the French Riviera, sits on the pebbly shores of the Baie des Anges. Founded by the Greeks and later a retreat for 19th-century European elite, the city has also long attracted artists. Former resident Henri Matisse is honored with a career-spanning collection of paintings at Musée Matisse. Musée Marc Chagall features some of its namesake’s major religious works.

Today it has a reputation as Weston – Super- Mare on the Med. Probably unfairly: it has a steep pebble beach and no mud insight. Colourful buildings with marvellous balconies. Artistic squares. A bustling market. Sunshine. It is (quelle suprise) UNESCO listed.

Go two streets from the main thoroughfare and it’s very quiet, with locals doing what locals do. Buying pastries, drinking coffee, smoking, laundry. Traffic is quite light.

It was interesting to learn Nice was annexed to France is 1860 as part of the Treaty of Turin: something to do with a dispute involving the Duchy of Savoy. (Which has distant connections to the Savoy Hotel, named after Count Peter of Savoy in 1246 who built his palace there – then became the home of the Dukes of Lancaster who still own the land today. Glad you asked.)

Today an enjoyable rest day mooch taking in the local sights.

Tomorrow the bikes may get a wash as we cycle up into the Alpes-Maritimes. Moissac-Bellevue has a population of 300, a wee bit smaller than Nice’s 360000. It may also be a challenging rhyme.

Reflections on Italy. A lot of streets are call Via de 20 Sept, or similar. Why? took me back to Higher History: The capture of Rome occurred on 20 September 1870, as forces of the Kingdom of Italy took control of the city and Papal States. Rome was officially made capital of Italy on 3 February 1871, completing the unification of Italy. Today we remember Garibaldi as a biscuit. We also forget some large European Countries were formed only [relatively] recently, including Germany.

They also like Alfa Romeo: the first police car we spotted was an Alfa —now part of Fiat-Chrysler. Most of the cars have been “small” or medium sized. It’s only now as we enter the wealthier (or showier?) areas that the SUVs, Porches, Mercs etc start to grow in popularity. They seem to like their horns more too: probably reflects their complexes.

We passed through places called Superior and Inferior this or that. Not necessarily correlated with car sizes.

Today we continued on the railway track for a glorious 15miles, then in and out of narrow street towns, hugging the coast. The route avoids Monaco: too dense with lots of roads now in tunnels as they pack in more unreal estate. So a Tour de France hill it was. No records were broken.

Another border crossing on a steep hill. A neat change of lingo gets a smile from the bored border polis man (bon jour vs buongiorno). Nice cake stop, then into the main city and a rest day. It’s been a fine day all round.

A Times article proves inspiring: Big Pharma is campaigning against NICE – they want the NHS to pay an increased price; never mind evidence based QALY – we want more of your lolly; our shareholders demand a greater slice. Plus ca change.