On the (Italian) Riviera

Cerianna - one of our favourite local villages

We were lucky enough to be able to go back to our farmhouse in the province of Liguria where we first started our HelpXing last June. We had arranged with Sue (our host) for us to work a week with her and then spend the next two weeks house-sitting while Sue and her sister
Judy went on a holiday.  This worked very well for us as we were to have Vicki’s mother Joan and sister Julie with us for a holiday.

Our first week went very quickly with Sue providing her usual interesting gourmet dishes for us to savour as we sat outside by the forno on the warm evenings being attacked by the biting insects and fending off the nine feral cats with a water-pistol. Admittedly four of the cats were new kittens and rather cute. Still haven’t managed to get a pizza base hand formed without a hole in it or remotely circular …

Though the temperatures were still in the mid-20s the water in the pool was cold enough for only a quick dip.  The sea was warmer so we managed a few floats down on the public beaches (most beach areas are private, i.e. you pay for access and a deck chair/lounger, changing facilities, toilet and access to a cafe).

Early one morning we took the train through to Nice to pick up Joan and Julie from the airport after a 36-hour flight from Nelson. Understandably they were looking a little weary so we immediately abandoned them while we found a local bus to take us to the hire-car rental. We had a cheap deal which meant picking it up at a commercial garage in the middle of nowhere. Once we eventually got back to the airport and picked the girls up we headed on a scenic trip back along the French Riviera, starting with the Boulevard Anglais in Nice to admire the beach (and inhabitants), then along the windy and hilly road through the little port towns dotted along the coast, with an appropriate number of Oohs and Ahhs as we saw the grand houses and even grander super-yachts. Though we skirted around Monaco you can still see the super-super-yachts at anchor. We could see they thoroughly enjoyed this introduction but were nodding off by the time we reached the Italian border and the slow trek through the built-up towns. The sleepy bit lasted until we reached the track up to the house which is always a challenge with a very poor surface, big drop-offs, and very narrow and steep. Joan was suffering enough with driving on the “wrong” side of the road and the cars zipping along far too close and scooters everywhere – this track was the last straw, especially as the rubbish Renault car we had couldn’t make it up the last 200m. With wheels spinning and car sliding we abandoned ship in a nearby orchard and walked the last very steep bit with the bags. Thereafter Joan didn’t enjoy travelling up our track nor fond of struggling up the last bit on foot.

Our next two weeks alternated between relaxing at the house, enjoying the pool, watering the fruit trees and feeding/playing with the cats, and exploring the medieval villages in the mountains inland. Plus a compulsory stop for gelato at the Smile Bar in Taggia. Even though most of our trips were to favourite places we had been to last year we still enjoyed them again. The huge advantage in this area is the almost complete lack of tourists. There are plenty of Italians down by the coast enjoying their summer holiday, but few venture inland. Peaceful, incredibly scenic and very Italian. On one big day out the girls took the train to Monaco to engage in some beautiful things and people watching.

While trains are the best way to travel along the coast they can be a hassle changing at Ventimiglia – the Italian border town. When we first arrived from Nice the train line between the two countries was closed and a bus service operated. Sort of. Except Italians don’t know the benefits of queuing so each time a bus arrived a scrum formed. As we had big bags that had to be stowed underneath we had no chance of getting on. And by the time another bus had arrived a further trainload would also have arrived to force themselves on. Eventually Vicki showed that watching all those All Blacks’ games had rubbed off and managed to force her way on, elbows flying, then blocked the entrance until I had arrived after stowing the bags.

Having a car opened up more opportunities and we did venture further up the coast. Past Imperia (the provincial capital) to the walled city of Albenga. From the French border right along this coast it is almost completely built-up with town after town of apartment buildings and public and private beaches. Apparently Italians book up a year ahead to get their choice holiday apartment. Albenga is a typical old town with the outside ring of houses/shops providing the exterior walls. Nowadays the modern town stretches well outside the walls but the historic centre is still picturesque, albeit full of tourists and shops and restaurants catering to them. We did find a local restaurant where we managed a large pizza each plus bottled water for only 20 euros for the three of us – quite a bargain, but then food in Italy is cheap by NZ standards.

The girls in team colours refreshing themselves after a hard morning at the market ..

For some strange reason the girls all loved visiting San Remo, our favourite big town just down the coast. As a town it has a lot going for it: an interesting medieval part winding up the hill at the back, a shopping street with no cars but full of the expensive shops, a casino, beaches, and a harbour filled with expensive yachts. Oh, and a twice-weekly street market that we had to keep going back to. Julie got a leather handbag for 20 euros and Vicki a pair of red leather gloves for 8 euros.

So the time comes to leave. Sue tells us that three of her next HelpXers have had to cancel for various valid reasons and she needs someone to house-sit through the winter months. Much as we’d like to be here, it is hard work without a vehicle and, anyway, we are now booked up for the next year or so.

A Weekend in Paris

After finishing at the Chateau we had a weekend to fill in before flying down to Nice and on to Italy. We have both been to Paris before, but not for many decades! The two times I have been before were both in mid-winter so it was a change to see it in a much more pleasant season. We choose an apartment on Airbnb which was conveniently close (i.e. walkable) to Gare Montpanasse (the station we would arrive in), various Metro stops, and the Orlybus (the airport bus). The apartment turned out to be a real success, not particularly clean nor tidy but up a grand staircase, wide hallway and very high ceilings and a little balcony overlooking the street.  Very convenient with lots of transport nearby and supermarkets.

As so many people have been to Paris (it is, after all, the most visited tourist destination in the world) there is no point describing it other than a few general observations …

Plenty of Parisian dogs still ...

The central part of Paris isn’t that large so it is easy enough to walk around with the help of a few Metro rides. We certainly ended up with very sore legs after hours of wandering on the hard asphalt. And it appeared cleaner than in the past – not nearly as much of the famous doggy-poo in evidence!

Due to the major redevelopment in the 19^th Century, the overwhelming image is lots (and I mean LOTS) of beautiful buildings in a similar style, lining wide roads. No individual houses, just 5-storey apartments and offices and glorious public buildings. . One of my all-time favourite buildings would be Le Petit Palais – a free-entry art gallery. It is lucky that there are so many wide boulevards and public squares or there would be nowhere to walk without tripping over other tourists.

The Eiffel Tower is still spectacular, especially at night when it is well lit up.

One of our highlights was watching couples tangoing in the rain on the steps of the Trocadero as it neared midnight.

One of the lowlights was having to pay 4 euros or more for a coffee. Paris is expensive!

Cafes galore!

Farewell to the Chateau

There has been a bit of a gap since the last post as we got into a familiar routine at the Chateau and it takes a bit of an effort to look for inspiration to write another post – the hazard of having a blog! And since leaving the Chateau we have only had sporadic, and slow, internet connections. The excuses now out of the way, here goes …

We spent 6 seeks in total at the Chateau and it was very pleasant, the sort of place we could easily have stayed for a lot longer.  The work was mainly gardening for me (mowing, strimming, watering, poisoning and avoiding weeding whenever possible) plus interior jobs like putting up curtains, while Vicki ended up doing less gardening and more interior cleaning and preparation of the rental accommodation. Not too onerous but with so much that needed doing we ended up putting in quite a few more hours than the norm for HelpXing.

Our only real disappointment was not spending more time with our host Darrien. She is always busy with running a large property, running her English-language library in Lunay, and teaching English. In the first few weeks she was putting in a lot of extra hours refurbishing her library and teaching rooms and in the last few weeks, as it was the school holidays, she was spending a lot of time teaching too: 2 x 2 hour sessions in the mornings and 1 x 4 hour session in the afternoon.  With all the class preparation and pupil assessments she was usually away from home from 8:30am to about 9:30pm, sometimes much later. Long, long hours.  And we had to try and remember how to cook for ourselves too!

The Loire Valley area is very scenic with lots of beautiful Chateaux, not that we went into any as, without a car, transport was difficult. We did avail ourselves of the bicycles often though and enjoyed some trips through the rolling farmland on almost deserted roads. Plenty of pretty little hamlets nearby and interesting towns like Vendome and Montoire.  For a bargain price of 3 euros we spent an afternoon exploring a ruined castle in Lavin (claiming to be the most “French” town in France, whatever that means)  with the local goat population.  Lots of history in this area as it had been owned by a variety of people including Henry IV (he seems to have owned quite a bit of France at one time).

Though we don’t eat out often (with free food at our hosts’, why would you?) but we did have a very typical set menu lunch at a troglodyte village of Troo. For 13 euros each (about $NZ20) we got to sit outside in the main square under a sun umbrella and consume the following: a starter of a vegetable pie and salad, a main of a large steak and chips (note we asked for “Medium” when asked how we wanted the steak cooked, being cautious, and apart from the grill marks there wasn’t much other evidence of any actual cooking – on the rare side of rare in NZ terms), a course of local cheeses, then a choice of dessert, unfortunately the only one we could understand was a Magnum ice cream each! All washed down with half a litre of rose then followed by coffee. A delicious bargain. Speed, though, was not included as you’re expected to languish at the table for a couple of hours …

Medieval carvings in Tours

As we are near a TGV station it is easy – if quite expensive – to visit other towns. We spent a day in Tours, reputably where the best French is spoken! A big town on the Loire River, badly bombed during the war, but with a large medieval section of shops and houses. Quite a contrast to the ultra-modern tram system they have.

Tours

Perhaps it was the season but we came across many weddings. They are readily identified by a convoy of decorated cars tooting loudly and careering around any town.

This has been a very peaceful and relaxing place to be and it would be easy to stay on for a lot, lot longer. However, we have family arriving shortly and more travelling to do ...

Montoire

Lavardin

Public laundry (the boards can be lowered to river level for washing)

At the Chateau

"Our" swimming pool

Pre-dinner drinks by the pond

We are living in luxury at the Château La Vaudourière. The Château is set on a good sized piece of land surrounded by forests and farm land. Very rural, it is about 4km from the nearest village (Lunay). The building seems to have pieces added each century since the 16^th, including a lot of recent modernisation, hence we have a beautiful bedroom and bathroom of our own (on the 2nd floor of the 'tower'), a smart lounge with whopping telly, a huge chef's kitchen with adjoining family dining room (seats about 12!). Other rooms in the house are a work-in-progress, including a huge “ballroom”, formal dining room, office, and industrial scale laundry in the attic. And there's the original and very rickety spiral staircase up to the bedrooms in the 19^th C tower. The entire place is designed for events and rental accommodation either in the house or the two other standalone houses on the property, or the other apartments in the various outbuildings.

Farmer's cottage, stable and barn

The chapel

Sadly the place is not yet completely finished due to some over-exuberance by the ex-architect which has drained the available funds and been followed by a court case which means everything has to stay as it is for the foreseeable future. One of the houses on the estate is in rentable condition but, as the others are not, the immaculate tennis court and 10m heated indoor swimming pool are not likely to see much use other than by ourselves. There is a brand new larger swimming pool in place but it hasn't been connected up yet and languishes collecting stagnant rain water.

The dog house - includes a fire place!

A "sculpture garden" nearby - tacky?

There are good cycles available so we have ventured out into the local countryside which seems to be farmland (mainly fields cut for hay, some corn – only grown for animal feed in France – and a few cows and odd donkey!), lots of small areas of woodland, and a few large farmhouses. We have seen deer and one red squirrel so far. The quiet roads are ideal for exploring.

A baguette vending machine

Further afield is the Loir river (a tributary to the Loire), a small river winds through scenic countryside and villages. Many of the hills near the river contain man-made caves, some where the stone has been excavated for the local Châteaux. Houses are often built into these caves so some rooms will be underground (Troglodytes). All very unusual and picturesque.

Only one real trip out to date and that was to a classical concert. A visiting Dutch orchestra/choir performed in a church in the town of Vendome. They get together once a year, set a destination, and stay in a local campground, performing in nearby towns. Afterwards we walked to a reception held by some Dutch friends of our host, who also invited the entire orchestra and what seemed like half the audience - their son is a member of the orchestra. They have a huge five storey place in town built in the neo-classical style using stones from a demolished local church.  It's a huge and interesting place with rooms full of books – they are rare book dealers.  Outside they had a pretty and lush garden lit up by lights. It was still 21C at midnight when we left.

Our host’s son is arriving from the US shortly to stay for a week. That will be some company as it is quiet here with just us, our host, and Rob, a 22yo ex-UK army helper – all rattling around on a huge estate! We are kept fairly busy though as we start our working day quite late (because we are up late eating dinner – often still eating and talking after 10pm, in the French style), we work through to a late lunch, then another hour or so before knocking off mid-afternoon in time for a swim. The work is reasonably hard with lots of gardening, strimming, and endless lawns to mow.

The local countryside ...

A surprise visit to Paris

We left La Chapelle-Gaudin, and Helen, on Sunday.  She drove us to Poitiers, bravely joining the taxi ranks to drop us at the door of the train station.  We said quick goodbyes, and know we will keep in touch.

Then the saga began.  Our TGV (fast) train was due to depart at 3:25pm but the departure board told us it was delayed by an hour.  Not as bad as the two earlier trains which had still not arrived and were expected to be two and a half hours late.  There was a nice man wandering around in a TGV uniform and we approached him and, firstly, asked if he spoke English as our French is limited, a lot.  We were in luck.  He was able to tell us that a tree had fallen on the track, halting all the trains using that track.  Our train would arrive about an hour late, which meant we would miss our connection at St Pierre des Corps, but we should be able to get on the following connection and arrive at our destination, Vendome, only an hour late.  I called our new host, Darienne, to let her know of the delay as she was due to pick us up in Vendome at 5pm, and said I’d phone again once we’d got on the connecting train through to Vendome – we didn’t want her turning up there at 6pm and finding we hadn’t been on the expected train.

Back at Poitiers station, we remained in the main hall until the platform number for our train was displayed, then followed a maze of signs to find the lift that would take us onto the bridge and over to our platform.  Having made it that far, we checked the diagram that shows where the carriages will be located on the platform – carriage 19 was the second to last at the back of the train so we headed in that direction and settled down to wait, standing along with most other passengers as there is little seating on platforms – not usually a problem because trains tend to run on time so you arrive just a reasonable time before scheduled departure and do not have to stand around for long.  In fact the TGV ticket recommends you are at the platform at least two minutes before the scheduled departure.  I think I’d be a bit stressed if I were to cut it that fine!

Finally, trains started arriving and departing and it wasn’t long before our one arrived.  But, strangely, our carriage wasn’t quite where we’d expected and we had to trot further down the platform to find it.  Having found it we left our big bags on the luggage rack (always a disconcerting feeling) and made our way to our seats to find a man seated in one of them.  Luckily, he spoke a little English and I showed him our tickets and he was just getting his out to check when an official looking man in a cap turned up and asked ‘Madame’ for her tickets.  He directed us out of the carriage and said we had to go to another, at the front of the train – to be more accurate he’d said a lot of something in French until I said “we don’t speak French”, to which he replied with those basic instructions, plus a tidbit about “the train leaves in two minutes so you’ll have to run” - these trains are very long.  Oh dear.  So we ran, heavy day packs on our backs, wheeling our big Kathmandu travel packs behind us, weaving around the people standing on the platform preparing to wave goodbye to their friends and family on the train.

I’ll divert a little in my story to tell you of a discovery I made early on in our time in Reading, and the decision I made following that discovery.  Where we were living in Reading was less than a half hour’s walk from the train station, and a couple of times we cut it a bit fine.  Often this was because it can take longer to get your tickets from the machine than you expect.  Anyway, we got into a pattern of me buying the tickets while Nigel checked the board to find out what time the next train departed and from which platform.  If we were running a bit late, we would then have to ‘get our roller-skates on’ to get to the platform – jogging through the station, up the escalator, along the bridge, down the stairs and then flying through the doors.  I think it was the next and final step which was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.  If there were seats available, we’d plonk ourselves down in seats to recover ….. and then my back would spasm, painfully.  It would usually only take a minute or so to recover, but it was scary (thrown on top of already being stressed about nearly missing the train), and altogether not very nice.  After the second time I decided it was a ridiculous situation and I declared that in future if we were running late for a train, we would miss it and we would get the next train. 

Fast-forward to platform 2 at Poitiers Station.  We had run towards the front of the train to find that they were all first class carriages and were certainly not carriage 19.  The platform staff blew the whistle.  We’d just passed the third carriage from the front where the entrance to the carriage was crammed with people standing.  Left with little choice, and finding only two people in the entrance of the next carriage, we climbed aboard, and the doors closed.  Phew!  I was not in the best of moods.  'Angry' is a pretty accurate description of how I felt about what had happened.  I haven’t been angry for a very long time.  Anyway, there was a woman sitting on one of the fold down/pop up seats in the entrance way, with her stuff on the one next to her.  She moved her stuff and I gratefully collapsed onto the seat, still gulping for air after our run.  And had another of my ‘episodes’ – back spasms, a few moans and groans thrown in for good measure, tears in the eyes.  As usual, it settled down again, and I just wanted to burst into tears.  Luckily, Nigel was by this stage sitting opposite me and held my hand until I’d calmed down. 

We’d been looking forward to this train trip, but instead we were sitting on crappy seats with limited views of the countryside flying passed us.  But there’s no use crying over spilled milk.  We were at last on our way.  We would miss our booked connection, but hopefully we’d get on the next and we’d be in Vendome at 6pm.

A quick look at a map will show you the locations of Poitiers, St Pierre des Corps and Vendome.  From Vendome you would have to stay on the train another 45 minutes to reach Paris, so how does Paris fit into this story?  The trip from Poitiers to St Pierre des Corps takes 45 minutes, so 45 minutes after departing Poitiers we were mentally preparing ourselves for the imminent slowing down of the train, and disembarkation.  Except the train didn’t slow down.  We got out our phones, turned on the GPS and ran Google Maps to find out how far away we were.  They couldn't pin-point our location, probably because we had limited access to the satellites through our pokey window.  So Nigel bravely tried a little French on the woman sitting with us.  She spoke enough English for us to understand, so, without the added confusion of smatterings of French, I’ll explain...

We were on the wrong train and we were on a non-stop journey to Paris.  We could do nothing but join her in laughing at our situation!  We were very lucky though - she was a TGV employee and explained that this train had come in to platform two just before our train.  The trip number was one digit different from our one, but I hadn’t even looked for that – I’d just been looking at the carriage numbers.  She spoke to the ticket collector and he looked up the trains out of Paris back to Vendome and she wrote down the trip number and departure time for us.  He also wrote a note on our ticket to explain the error, to reduce the chance that we’d have to pay for the extra trip.  In the event, on our arrival in Paris, our ‘rescuer’, having pointed out the Eiffel Tower in the distance as we caught a glimpse of it in the distance between buildings, assured us she had the time to take us to our return train and ensure we got free seats.  She spoke to the men at the help desk on the platform next to the train and one of them asked us, in English, to follow him please.  We quickly said our goodbyes and again said our thanks to her and followed our guide.  He kindly pointed us to very comfortable seats in a first class carriage and we most happily settled back to enjoy our 45 minute trip to Vendome.  I phoned Darienne and said we’d arrive at 7pm.  Thankfully she was still able to pick us up and we’ve now spent a day in our new ‘home’, a beautiful French chateau ….. but that’s a story for another day!

French life

After being here just a month I can’t speak with authority on the French way of life, but here are a few observations …

All the little villages we have been through are generally well cared for, all but the tiniest have public toilets and a Mairie (town hall). Our village of La Chapelle-Gaudin, with just 65 houses or so, has a mayor, a two-story Mairie (where you must get married if you live in the area), one shop (for bread), a salle des fetes (a multi-purpose hall for the community to use), sports grounds, a recycling centre, and a school with 19 children. It also has a church which, like all churches in secular France, is owned by the state. The community pays a person full-time to maintain the village. There are also 18-odd wind turbines (each 130m tall!) nearby and the power company gives tens of thousands of euros to the community each year as compensation.

Today (Saturday) is one of the major travel days here (because families are setting out for their annual holiday). So large trucks are banned from the roads. Hence no mail is transported today.

On the down side are the public services. Though they work well they appear inefficient and a means to keep lots of people employed, though strikes are common. We have just tried out the postal service. I mentioned in a previous post that my camera lens is broken, so we wrapped it up in a box for sending back to NZ for repair.  Helen took us to the main post office in Thouars, the largest nearby town, as she warned us any local post office wouldn’t be able to cope. When a staff member finally arrived at the counter and looked at the parcel you could see that it wasn’t going to go well. The parcel was too well wrapped – it was too small! The various forms required wouldn’t fit onto it. They did sell standard postage-included boxes but they didn’t cover the insurance amount required. Plus he could give us two prices: 30 euros or 110 euros! A trip to the supermarket procured us a suitable box so we returned today with the various forms filled out – one in triplicate, the other just duplicate. This seemed to do the trick and the lens will duly be sent somewhere. 

And on the subject of forms, when you send them into government departments they may return them to you with any mistakes or omissions highlighted so you can have another go.

People here do not seem particularly IT-literate. Helen’s two daughters went to school and college here. They would often shop online which was a mystery to all their classmates. Partly it is the general poor state of French websites – very old-fashioned.

France is still very insular and protectionist of their culture and economy. Many of the goods we’re familiar with buying very cheaply (because they come from China) are more expensive here because they are made locally. People do support their local shops and regional produce. They tend to holiday mainly in countries that speak French.

There are many empty houses in the countryside. The inheritance laws mean a property (land or house) is divided up amongst the children. This often makes farms uneconomic and requires all the children to agree on what to do with the property. As not all may agree on how to sell it and how to divide up the money, many are left in a state of limbo. Also, young people don’t want to live in the countryside where there are few jobs, nothing to do, and everyone around is ancient. The chance of selling a house quickly is not good - they may take years to sell. Unless a Brit comes along. There are a lot of ex-pats living here, either with a holiday home or permanently. And some, like our hosts, still work in Britain and commute. For a lot of them it is a way to realise a dream that is nearly impossible in Britain: to own a large house and land. Run down houses needing renovation can be had for 20,000 euros, larger ones ready to live in for under 100,000 euros.

Bastille Day

Monday 14^th July is a public holiday so we duly obliged by taking the day off (we worked the previous day, a Sunday, instead) and did some local sightseeing. Our host, Helen, is away for a week in the UK and has left us the keys to the house, wine cellar, and Landrover. Luckily summer has started to return; we have had warm but very changeable weather of late which is quite unseasonal. By this time of the year it should be very hot day after day, hiding from the sun in the afternoon and eating out late each evening. Sadly that has rarely been the case.

Old buildings are everywhere

Taking the Landrover for some exercise (it is quite a challenge driving a large right-hand drive vehicle, on the right, down little, wobbly, country lanes - though probably not as scary for the people in normal-sized cars coming in the other direction!) we headed to a pretty local town by the name of Airvault. Being a holiday it appeared abandoned, but there were quaint streets to meander down, lots of old buildings, the remains of a castle, and a medieval church to investigate. Like all the villages around here it is somewhat drab, all the buildings are shades of cream. Some are still stone, a few are half-timbered, but most have been rendered over all in a similar colour. At least all the towns are very tidy, clean, and well decorated with flowers. Totally un-Greek!

One of the better residences in Airvault

Covered market areas are quite common

Over-doing the flowers in Airvault

Airvault from the castle walls

Old farmhouses in town

Sadly at this point my wide-angle lens gave up on me so there won’t be as many images appearing until it has had a little trip back to NZ for repair.

Summer in France ...

Forget that little event called the [soccer] World Cup! Being in France and being Bastille day there was no better way to relax than sit back and watch the Tour de France ( on telly). Even if you don't like the cycling, the live coverage always includes spectacular French scenery, and plenty of sunflowers! Unfortunately there are no stages anywhere near where we will be so I have to rely on the telly.

After dinner we drove half an hour to Bressuire, the nearest large town in this region. It has a nice Chateau surrounded by old fortifications – and this was the backdrop to the ensuing fireworks display we had come to see. There were a couple of food tents, a dreadfully loud disco/rap with no one paying it any attention, a dirty-looking and smelly public shared toilet trailer, and a grassy hillside to sit with about 2,000 others waiting for the display to begin at 11pm when it was deemed dark enough. Despite the “attractions” the actual fireworks show was probably the prettiest we had ever seen. Some great old French music (and some not-so-old English!) and a 15 minute display.

And we mustn't forget the frog!  Yes - I said 'frog'.  A little brown guy, about five centimetres long, decided to take a hop through the throngs on this most auspicious of evenings.  We're not sure he made it through the evening, and would be surprised if he did!