Can you imagine walking up a hill on a very hot day and looking over a railing, down through the leafy plane trees, into a small square and seeing a beautiful fountain surrounded by tables set up for lunch. It looked so cool and inviting. It was irresistible. Adding to the atmosphere were the 3 storey peach coloured French houses with their blue shutters enclosing the square on 2 sides. Waiters in red shirts and black trousers were moving about preparing for the lunch and so we had a decision to make – should we stop at the restaurant now (12 noon) or explore this delightful village of Seillans a bit and then have lunch. Lunch won!
So we settled down for a long, long lunch with the most beautiful food we have had so far. For €26 ($35) I had the 3 course meal, but Barry stayed with his diet of salads (smoked salmon this time). I had gazpacho with roasted prawns on the side for entrée, then roast pork loin with beans and potatoes for main and stewed fresh peaches with a chocolate chip mini muffinfor dessert. Jim kept buying bottles of Var d’Iris Rose which was declared to be top rate. So we sat and sat and soaked up the atmosphere. We studied the beautiful people at the next table with their beautiful blonde children (Germans) and pondered on what sort of work they did. We settled for photographer (girl) and male model (man).
We sat for over 3 hours and then we 3 girls dragged ourselves off to an interesting art and craft shop where the lady allowed us to watch her putting her designs on T-shirts. One small gallery near the restaurant had a downstairs section in part of an old Roman aqueduct lit with a blue light, which was interesting. We did manage to have a little explore of this ancient village though, up and down the narrow cobbled streets. Picturesque stuff. The delightful 13th century church with a statue of Joan of Arc inside was worth mentioning.
This was a wonderful day and is what France is all about – long lingering lunches in beautiful settings with delicious food and wine. Bring it on!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Oops! We missed St. Tropez
Today we were excited about going to St. Tropez – heart of the French Riviera and the place to see the rich, the famous, the wannabees, the young and the gorgeous. We took the A8 for about 20 km (€1.80) and after another 12 miles we ran into some traffic on the 2 lane highway leading to St Tropez. We weren’t too concerned because we were still 17 km from St. Tropez, and thought it was a slow vehicle or an accident, but after a couple of km going at about 5 km per hour we reached a dead stop. This was starting to get serious and Hamish was all for getting out of there. We continued very slowly until the next turn off and then we realised the sad fact that all this traffic was trying to go to St. Tropez. At a rate of 2 meters in 20 minutes, it was enough for Sarah who was driving, to announce that she had had enough. We had to go somewhere else. And that is how we came to Grimaud. (Grim-oh)
Grimaud is only about 18km from St. Tropez on one of the rolling hills back from the beaches. It was described on the website as being ‘picture, postcard perfect’ which makes you wonder whether it might look fake. There was very little traffic heading that way, so that was a good start. We drove up the hill, parked and started walking into the village to look for a restaurant for lunch. It didn’t take long for Hamish to spot ‘The Café du France’ down through an arched walkway. It had a lovely outlook over a small square, and there was a strolling musician playing bosa nova, so we took our seats on the wicker chairs under the umbrellas, and proceeded to have a lovely meal.
2.30 pm and very hot out in the sun but still time for a wander along the street. This turned out to be more than that though as we discovered more and more interesting streets and buildings. What a beautiful village. Gradually it crept up to the top of the list of the best we had seen, and then finally Hamish gave it the ultimate prize of declaring it to be better than Seguray by which every town is measured since 3 years ago.
Wandering through the village was such a treat. The houses were a lovely warm-coloured stone with the traditional terracotta tiles. Some had lovely gardens with oleanders and vibrant bougainvillea which would spill over walls. Others had contrasting shutters and window boxes of geraniums. There was not a scrap of litter anyway, making it obvious that the residents of this town took great pride in their village. The ruined castle on top of the hill, dating back to the 11th century beckoned us, but the hill was just too steep at that time of the day. We came across a 16th century Renaissance style building with three gothic arches in the ‘Rue des Templiers’ , but my favourite was the tiny stone church which was almost pitch black inside. It was very old, but such a simple church, with steps down into the body of the church. It would only hold about 100 people but it had a strangely welcoming atmosphere about it and felt like a place of solitude and meditation. I loved it.
Our return home was another unplanned adventure. Somehow Camilla (GPS lady) took us onto the freeway. After only 500 mts we had to take the exit, but accidently got into the wrong lane as we approached the toolbooth and not only had to pay €3.40 but then couldn’t get off the freeway for 11 km. We had paid to go to Nice!!! This was our fault as we should have been in the far right hand lane. We made an exit and then had no idea where we were and had lost all confidence in Camilla. We found ourselves on winding roads and by now we were running very low on petrol, but finally saw a sign that said Bagnols en Foret. What a relief after 2 hours of stress.
I’m not sure what to say about St. Tropez other than all we saw were the sign posts to it and a traffic jam of 15 km trying to get into it.
Grimaud is only about 18km from St. Tropez on one of the rolling hills back from the beaches. It was described on the website as being ‘picture, postcard perfect’ which makes you wonder whether it might look fake. There was very little traffic heading that way, so that was a good start. We drove up the hill, parked and started walking into the village to look for a restaurant for lunch. It didn’t take long for Hamish to spot ‘The Café du France’ down through an arched walkway. It had a lovely outlook over a small square, and there was a strolling musician playing bosa nova, so we took our seats on the wicker chairs under the umbrellas, and proceeded to have a lovely meal.
2.30 pm and very hot out in the sun but still time for a wander along the street. This turned out to be more than that though as we discovered more and more interesting streets and buildings. What a beautiful village. Gradually it crept up to the top of the list of the best we had seen, and then finally Hamish gave it the ultimate prize of declaring it to be better than Seguray by which every town is measured since 3 years ago.
Wandering through the village was such a treat. The houses were a lovely warm-coloured stone with the traditional terracotta tiles. Some had lovely gardens with oleanders and vibrant bougainvillea which would spill over walls. Others had contrasting shutters and window boxes of geraniums. There was not a scrap of litter anyway, making it obvious that the residents of this town took great pride in their village. The ruined castle on top of the hill, dating back to the 11th century beckoned us, but the hill was just too steep at that time of the day. We came across a 16th century Renaissance style building with three gothic arches in the ‘Rue des Templiers’ , but my favourite was the tiny stone church which was almost pitch black inside. It was very old, but such a simple church, with steps down into the body of the church. It would only hold about 100 people but it had a strangely welcoming atmosphere about it and felt like a place of solitude and meditation. I loved it.
Our return home was another unplanned adventure. Somehow Camilla (GPS lady) took us onto the freeway. After only 500 mts we had to take the exit, but accidently got into the wrong lane as we approached the toolbooth and not only had to pay €3.40 but then couldn’t get off the freeway for 11 km. We had paid to go to Nice!!! This was our fault as we should have been in the far right hand lane. We made an exit and then had no idea where we were and had lost all confidence in Camilla. We found ourselves on winding roads and by now we were running very low on petrol, but finally saw a sign that said Bagnols en Foret. What a relief after 2 hours of stress.
I’m not sure what to say about St. Tropez other than all we saw were the sign posts to it and a traffic jam of 15 km trying to get into it.
Nice is nice
How does one see the sights on the French Riviera without getting in a traffic jam and also find a carpark when they arrive at their destination? Answer – take the train! Well it works if you are going to Nice. Through the train window we had a taste of life on the Cote d’Azur during summer. Beaches were crowded, jet skis were doing wheelies, every type of craft was on the water and some of the huge yachts and cabin cruisers were out and about. One that went by was like a small cruise ship, maybe it belonged to Bill Gates! There were plenty of marinas with large and small yachts and some magnificent villas on the cliffs looking out to see. That’s where the other half lives! The Mediterranean was not bright blue at all. In fact Lake Titicaca was much brighter with its brilliant cobalt blue colour. The roads were chock-a-block with cars and motor homes jamming the intersections and we felt glad to be looking down on it and not part of it.
Vieux Nice (Old Nice) was the main attraction for us. Nearly everything in it is over 200 years old and some of the churches are Our first square was Palais Plaza, filled with cafes and protected by the huge Palais de Justice building. We collapsed into some chairs and ordered salads and drinks and soon started to feel better. It was incredibly hot. We started our walk at the flower market and walked all around the narrow, shadowy streets, into cosy squares, past baroque churches and a jumble of pastel houses, trying to follow a map but not worrying if we got lost. The sense of discovery with each corner turned was exciting and our cameras were working overtime. It looked and felt much as it must have long ago. There were plenty of small shops and galleries, along with ice cream bars with 50 amazing flavours (rose, lavender, violet, basil, cactus to name a few) and outside clothing shops were racks of Nice trend wear. And places to eat!!! There must be more outdoor café seats per square kilometre in Nice than in any other city in the world. A rough estimate would be between 5000-8000. Even a laneway only 6 feet wide would have a line of tables and chairs up against the wall and a waiter serving.
People watching in Nice is interesting. The first thing you notice is that most people wandering around are eating ice creams. Everyone is very casually dressed and no matter what your age, shape or size you must wear the current trend in clothes. This year it is very short strapless dresses with shirring across the bust. Not for me! No one looks chic. Women show off their cleavage and men generally wear knee length shorts and canvas shoes and have collar length hair and sunglasses. Even balding men! Locals walk dogs of all breeds.
Another interesting observation is that Nice is a city of apartments. For approximately 20 km from the city centre there are no houses at all, only quite high apartment buildings ranging from plain to quite attractive with wrought iron balconies and shutters. Then came some modest houses and by the time we approached Cannes it was back to apartments again.
Nice is a really fun city and one I would love to explore in October or any cooler month when the crowds are not there. Yes Nice is very nice.
Vieux Nice (Old Nice) was the main attraction for us. Nearly everything in it is over 200 years old and some of the churches are Our first square was Palais Plaza, filled with cafes and protected by the huge Palais de Justice building. We collapsed into some chairs and ordered salads and drinks and soon started to feel better. It was incredibly hot. We started our walk at the flower market and walked all around the narrow, shadowy streets, into cosy squares, past baroque churches and a jumble of pastel houses, trying to follow a map but not worrying if we got lost. The sense of discovery with each corner turned was exciting and our cameras were working overtime. It looked and felt much as it must have long ago. There were plenty of small shops and galleries, along with ice cream bars with 50 amazing flavours (rose, lavender, violet, basil, cactus to name a few) and outside clothing shops were racks of Nice trend wear. And places to eat!!! There must be more outdoor café seats per square kilometre in Nice than in any other city in the world. A rough estimate would be between 5000-8000. Even a laneway only 6 feet wide would have a line of tables and chairs up against the wall and a waiter serving.
People watching in Nice is interesting. The first thing you notice is that most people wandering around are eating ice creams. Everyone is very casually dressed and no matter what your age, shape or size you must wear the current trend in clothes. This year it is very short strapless dresses with shirring across the bust. Not for me! No one looks chic. Women show off their cleavage and men generally wear knee length shorts and canvas shoes and have collar length hair and sunglasses. Even balding men! Locals walk dogs of all breeds.
Another interesting observation is that Nice is a city of apartments. For approximately 20 km from the city centre there are no houses at all, only quite high apartment buildings ranging from plain to quite attractive with wrought iron balconies and shutters. Then came some modest houses and by the time we approached Cannes it was back to apartments again.
Nice is a really fun city and one I would love to explore in October or any cooler month when the crowds are not there. Yes Nice is very nice.
Grasse is Fragrant
Time to find a market and it looks like Grasse is the place today. It is a large town spread across some low hills just 15 km north of Cannes. This is considered to be the perfume capital of the world as they began making perfume here back in the 16th century. The old town is much larger than Fayence and is a true medieaval town that has withstood many raids in its time. Tiny streets wind forever between the 17th and 18th century buildings, up and down ancient steps, passing through arched tunnels and sometimes opening out onto large squares. We made our way to the central fountain in Place aux Aires where the market was supposed to be, and found only half a dozen stalls so that was a disappointment. Although they say there is a market every day, Sunday is only a token gesture.
However walking around the streets was wonderful. The camera was working overtime as every way I looked something caught my eye. When I think of Grasse I will remember gurgling fountains and picturesque squares with welcoming cafés, red and yellow ochre houses, and narrow streets filled with tiny shops with interesting merchandise. We gradually made our way up to the cathedral which was very ornate with gilt and carving, and 10 side chapels. Three Rubens paintings were hanging there, plus works by lesser known artists and there were beautiful stained glass windows and statues. All very impressive and added to that, the view over the surrounding hills and valleys made the walk up the hill worthwhile.
The three historic perfume manufacturers - Fragonard, Galimard and Molinard provide free tours of their laboratories so we joined the crowds to see over Fragonard. The museum was very interesting with its displays of bottles and vases that trace the industry back to ancient times, with life size diaoramas of how the people looked and worked long ago. I found the history of the family itself most interesting and how it grew with each generation. We intended doing the tour of the laboratories to see how they extract the essence out of the flowers, but a couple of bus loads of French tourists pulled in before us and the 45 minute wait to do an English speaking tour wasn’t appealing, so we gave that a miss. Sarah and Louise spent up big in the Fragonard shop buying several of their beautiful products. Apart from the perfumes, they sell lovely soaps all packaged up beautifully. We all arrived home smelling of fragrances we had tried out, even the guys who had been trying the after-shaves.
However walking around the streets was wonderful. The camera was working overtime as every way I looked something caught my eye. When I think of Grasse I will remember gurgling fountains and picturesque squares with welcoming cafés, red and yellow ochre houses, and narrow streets filled with tiny shops with interesting merchandise. We gradually made our way up to the cathedral which was very ornate with gilt and carving, and 10 side chapels. Three Rubens paintings were hanging there, plus works by lesser known artists and there were beautiful stained glass windows and statues. All very impressive and added to that, the view over the surrounding hills and valleys made the walk up the hill worthwhile.
The three historic perfume manufacturers - Fragonard, Galimard and Molinard provide free tours of their laboratories so we joined the crowds to see over Fragonard. The museum was very interesting with its displays of bottles and vases that trace the industry back to ancient times, with life size diaoramas of how the people looked and worked long ago. I found the history of the family itself most interesting and how it grew with each generation. We intended doing the tour of the laboratories to see how they extract the essence out of the flowers, but a couple of bus loads of French tourists pulled in before us and the 45 minute wait to do an English speaking tour wasn’t appealing, so we gave that a miss. Sarah and Louise spent up big in the Fragonard shop buying several of their beautiful products. Apart from the perfumes, they sell lovely soaps all packaged up beautifully. We all arrived home smelling of fragrances we had tried out, even the guys who had been trying the after-shaves.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Bastille Celebration
Being July 14th in France meant it was Bastille Day and a public holiday. Jim booked us a table at The Commerce, one of the restaurants in the square in the local village Bagnols (Banyols). A stage was set up for a band and recorded Cuban music was playing as we took our seats at the table. Looking around I could see all restaurants
in the square were going to the busy as tables were filling up fast. Although the huge plane trees kept off the late sun it was still very hot and very humid. When Leo and Ben saw the other children on the dance floor they joined in too - Leo running, jumping and then posing like John Travolta and Ben just sort of flopping to the rhythm, which Sarah declared to the same way Hamish dances.
We all ordered the Plat de Jour which was a 3 course meal for E17 which was very good value. Our waiter wanted to know where we were from and how we had found his village, as he was not used to serving overseas tourists. The crowd appeared to be all from the village with maybe some French tourists. The first course was a Spanish tart (ratatouille with chorizo) second course was lamb shanks with honey sauce which sounded a bit weird but was lovely, and lastly was Crème Brulee which was excellent. Leo wolfed down a 12” pizza all by himself.
During our main course an aging rocker grabbed the microphone and started to sing. He wore black trousers, a black satin shirt with 3-4 buttons undone, and a gold chain. Some of his songs were pure rock and others were straight from Charles Aznevour. He had the music pre-recorded but it was obviously his voice because he missed a few important notes. But it didn’t matter because the atmosphere was so good. We were all rocking along to the beat and children and mothers or fathers with babies were on the floor keeping time to the music. Everybody joined in from babies to 90 year olds. And then they all stood and raucously sang the national anthem, to which we joined in. A couple of other chaps sang, one who was all in white and did Rod Stewart numbers and then the main attraction was the Tom Jones look-alike in black trousers and black velvet jacket complete with sequins. He sang quite well and we were having fun trying to guess which song it was because nearly all his numbers were English songs but sung in French. Even Abba can be hard to recognize in French. All the adults were now dancing and the Barry and I joined in. For Barry to get up and dance these days means it really has to be good music. There was jive, twist, rock and roll, tango, cha cha, and a French version of our Nutbush. All in all it was a wonderful evening and we felt very special to be enjoying a genuine French village celebration. For such a small village as Bagnols it was quite a party, and we have seen nothing like it in Australia. Admittedly they have a band in Federation Square on New Years Eve in Melbourne, but the atmosphere doesn’t compare. It would have to be something like McCrae turning on a party, but without the village square with its restaurants all bunched together they can’t do it. It requires everyone working together in spite of being competitive with each other. Uniquely French.
in the square were going to the busy as tables were filling up fast. Although the huge plane trees kept off the late sun it was still very hot and very humid. When Leo and Ben saw the other children on the dance floor they joined in too - Leo running, jumping and then posing like John Travolta and Ben just sort of flopping to the rhythm, which Sarah declared to the same way Hamish dances.
We all ordered the Plat de Jour which was a 3 course meal for E17 which was very good value. Our waiter wanted to know where we were from and how we had found his village, as he was not used to serving overseas tourists. The crowd appeared to be all from the village with maybe some French tourists. The first course was a Spanish tart (ratatouille with chorizo) second course was lamb shanks with honey sauce which sounded a bit weird but was lovely, and lastly was Crème Brulee which was excellent. Leo wolfed down a 12” pizza all by himself.
During our main course an aging rocker grabbed the microphone and started to sing. He wore black trousers, a black satin shirt with 3-4 buttons undone, and a gold chain. Some of his songs were pure rock and others were straight from Charles Aznevour. He had the music pre-recorded but it was obviously his voice because he missed a few important notes. But it didn’t matter because the atmosphere was so good. We were all rocking along to the beat and children and mothers or fathers with babies were on the floor keeping time to the music. Everybody joined in from babies to 90 year olds. And then they all stood and raucously sang the national anthem, to which we joined in. A couple of other chaps sang, one who was all in white and did Rod Stewart numbers and then the main attraction was the Tom Jones look-alike in black trousers and black velvet jacket complete with sequins. He sang quite well and we were having fun trying to guess which song it was because nearly all his numbers were English songs but sung in French. Even Abba can be hard to recognize in French. All the adults were now dancing and the Barry and I joined in. For Barry to get up and dance these days means it really has to be good music. There was jive, twist, rock and roll, tango, cha cha, and a French version of our Nutbush. All in all it was a wonderful evening and we felt very special to be enjoying a genuine French village celebration. For such a small village as Bagnols it was quite a party, and we have seen nothing like it in Australia. Admittedly they have a band in Federation Square on New Years Eve in Melbourne, but the atmosphere doesn’t compare. It would have to be something like McCrae turning on a party, but without the village square with its restaurants all bunched together they can’t do it. It requires everyone working together in spite of being competitive with each other. Uniquely French.
Visit to a ‘perched village
Today’s selection of village is Fayence, one of the ‘perched villages’. It was only a short drive of 24 km north from Bagnols and there are 8 such villages on the hills but Fayence would be the pick of them. From a distance it was eye-catching and as we wound our way up the charming, narrow streets to the top we could see that this was going to be one of the best we had seen so far. It was obviously very old, but well preserved, and as we came under an archway and saw all the tables set out invitingly under the plane trees we couldn’t wait to find a restaurant and sit down. Jim and Louise joined us after a barrage of texting and lunch turned out to be very pleasant – nice salads. I have made promise to myself not to have any more French fries!
We started our walk in what they call the old town, which made us wonder where we had been having lunch. Steps led down to a square in front of the church and the stage told us that this was where they had celebrated Bastille Day. The exterior of the church was almost identical in shape to the one in Trinidad, Cuba. It was the same soft salmon pink colour and inside was cool and dark and made a lovely retreat from the heat about 40 minutes later. Very narrow, cobbled streets led out in all directions from the square and the further we went from the church the narrower they became until they were only about 6 feet wide. The houses were all about 3 stories high giving some shade to the laneways, but now and then there would be a mini square, usually filled with sunshine and hanging baskets of flowers, and we came across a mother and toddler kicking a ball around in the only space available. The houses were of soft pastel tones and shuttered with contrasting colours. Large pots of flowers marked each entrance. We came across an open doorway and inside was a life size diorama of a baker’s kitchen set up exactly as it would have been 500 years ago, with a husband, wife and child working.
By this time the streets were just a maze. We had no idea which way was out, so thought if we went up we would come to the main road into the town. That was right and we walked back to our lunchtime restaurant and then down the steps to the church, stopping to buy an ice cream on the way. Sarah and Louise had been spending time in the shops around the square and Jim was having a bad time with his mobile phone. He was set to have a tantrum and throw it on the ground and stamp on it when we caught up with him. A cold drink at one of the restaurants was the only answer. The temperature was about 33 but the humidity was the main problem, hence it is no wonder the French in this part of the world (except those in tourism) hibernate between 12.30pm and 4.00 pm.
We started our walk in what they call the old town, which made us wonder where we had been having lunch. Steps led down to a square in front of the church and the stage told us that this was where they had celebrated Bastille Day. The exterior of the church was almost identical in shape to the one in Trinidad, Cuba. It was the same soft salmon pink colour and inside was cool and dark and made a lovely retreat from the heat about 40 minutes later. Very narrow, cobbled streets led out in all directions from the square and the further we went from the church the narrower they became until they were only about 6 feet wide. The houses were all about 3 stories high giving some shade to the laneways, but now and then there would be a mini square, usually filled with sunshine and hanging baskets of flowers, and we came across a mother and toddler kicking a ball around in the only space available. The houses were of soft pastel tones and shuttered with contrasting colours. Large pots of flowers marked each entrance. We came across an open doorway and inside was a life size diorama of a baker’s kitchen set up exactly as it would have been 500 years ago, with a husband, wife and child working.
By this time the streets were just a maze. We had no idea which way was out, so thought if we went up we would come to the main road into the town. That was right and we walked back to our lunchtime restaurant and then down the steps to the church, stopping to buy an ice cream on the way. Sarah and Louise had been spending time in the shops around the square and Jim was having a bad time with his mobile phone. He was set to have a tantrum and throw it on the ground and stamp on it when we caught up with him. A cold drink at one of the restaurants was the only answer. The temperature was about 33 but the humidity was the main problem, hence it is no wonder the French in this part of the world (except those in tourism) hibernate between 12.30pm and 4.00 pm.
First Impression of the French Riviera
Traffic, traffic, traffic!!! Followed by roundabouts and more roundabouts. They seem to come every 100 metres. There are road signs to 6-8 places at every point and no time to read them. It is just as well we have ‘Camilla’ (GPS) in the car telling us what to do and making ding dong sounds when it is time to turn. Once you get on the freeway (A8) then it is wonderful and you can travel very quickly between places, but once off the freeway it is bedlam. We have seen the odd traffic jam but so far haven’t been in one ourselves.
Our house is up a small mountain in the village of Bagnols en Foret (Bagnols in the Forest) which is near the town of Frejus, which is north of San Tropez. We have to climb 8 km up a steep, narrow, twisting road and some of the rocky outcrops remind me of the Australian bush, but not the trees. It is reasonably attractive but I much prefer the fields of sunflowers and vines from Languedoc last year. The house is quite good though, although Sarah tells me that French houses never turn out to be quite what they advertise. For instance, one house she rented forgot to mention the fleas! We haven’t got those thank goodness but we have inherited a 20 year old mangey angora cat which the owner requested we feed as she is too old to be moved. We have the most wonderful swimming pool surrounded by great pool furniture, plus a hot tub and a sauna. The garden is huge and filled with flowers, olive trees and birds. The outlook is towards treed hills and 15 minutes walk away is the very quaint village. So all things considered I think we are going to settle in quite quickly.
The joy of seeing the grandchildren was fairly shortlived! Lovely as they are, living with them is another matter. My tolerance level for noise is very low these days and I find myself having to escape into the garden frequently. Luckily the wine is good and cheap. Remarkably good rose comes in 5 lt bags and costs about $1 a litre.
Our house is up a small mountain in the village of Bagnols en Foret (Bagnols in the Forest) which is near the town of Frejus, which is north of San Tropez. We have to climb 8 km up a steep, narrow, twisting road and some of the rocky outcrops remind me of the Australian bush, but not the trees. It is reasonably attractive but I much prefer the fields of sunflowers and vines from Languedoc last year. The house is quite good though, although Sarah tells me that French houses never turn out to be quite what they advertise. For instance, one house she rented forgot to mention the fleas! We haven’t got those thank goodness but we have inherited a 20 year old mangey angora cat which the owner requested we feed as she is too old to be moved. We have the most wonderful swimming pool surrounded by great pool furniture, plus a hot tub and a sauna. The garden is huge and filled with flowers, olive trees and birds. The outlook is towards treed hills and 15 minutes walk away is the very quaint village. So all things considered I think we are going to settle in quite quickly.
The joy of seeing the grandchildren was fairly shortlived! Lovely as they are, living with them is another matter. My tolerance level for noise is very low these days and I find myself having to escape into the garden frequently. Luckily the wine is good and cheap. Remarkably good rose comes in 5 lt bags and costs about $1 a litre.
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