Perpignan
Changing trains in Cerbere, on the Spanish / French border we witnessed another
theft. This time the thief didn't even bother to run away; she just hung around
the next person in the line at the currency exchange booth waiting to snatch
their cash as well! We made our way safely to Perpignan where
Jennifer met us at the station.
Jennifer is a friend of Tonya's Mum from when they both worked at The White
House about 30 years ago. That is the White House in New Bond St, London... not
Washington D.C. Jennifer took us to Coullieur, an attractive fishing village full of poets and
artistic types. Tonya was reunited with Jennifer's children - Isabelle and
Christoph who speaks fluent English and knows more about UK history and politics
than the two of us put together. Perpignan is a pleasant town, but doesn't have many sights, so it wouldn't have
been on out itinerary had we not known people there. The main difference we have noticed since crossing the border into France (and
there is no polite way to say this) is that whilst Spain and Portugal had the
odour of cigarette smoke, France has that of dog turd! There are turds
everywhere... clearly the "Poop-a-Scoop" has not yet been released
onto the French market. You see people walking down the street like Jack
Nicholson in "As Good As It Gets", but they aren't trying to avoid the
cracks in the pavement! Cannes
Everyone in Cannes was preparing for the Film Festival which
will be held here
next week. Hospitality tents were being erected on every beach and bulldozers
were hard at work moving beaches to more convenient locations. We walked around
the port and the cinema, but didn't get to see the handprints of the stars since
that area was fenced off for the laying of the red carpet, removal of dog turds
and general sprucing up. Spent a day on the beach and Paul put his
binoculars into action scanning for
topless beauties. Unfortunately the only boobs he saw resembled those in that
infamous scene from "Something About Mary". Monaco
Anyone who has been to Monaco will know that it is not well suited to
backpacking - firstly there is nowhere to leave your packs at the station and
secondly; the place is on a steep hill with all points of interest involving
some serious uphill climbing. The weather was miserable when we arrived and we
spotted a Noddy Train... As much as we would normally not wish to be seen dead
on a Noddy Train it did have a certain appeal... We would be out of the rain, and
wouldn't have to walk up hills with our backpacks on. Sadly, it wasn't to be. We spent the entire day walking around trying to find
where to get on this stupid train - We did at least one lap of the Grand Prix
circuit which had been marked out in preparation for the race which will be held
May 24-27. Paul kept running around shouting "Brrrrrummm, Brrrummm,
Brrrrummm" - a side effect from all those years in Bermuda playing F1GP2 (a
computer Grand Prix game) with Nick. Tonya, true to form, decided she wanted to visit the highest point. Paul
followed with her promise that "there is an elevator to take you to the
top", and before we knew it we had climbed all the steps and arrived at the
castle overlooking the city. We both decided we had had enough of
France and its terrible weather - perhaps the
"Sun Would be shining" in Italy...
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