Santo Stefano al Mare

We decided this morning, rather than risk going higher into the mountains, we should re-enter France via the same route we left it, but this time not driving through Nice, and using the motorway instead. As we ideally do not want to cross into France until Sunday, we decided to head to Celle Ligure, which was our first overnight stop when we arrived in Italy, on May 17th. Thinking the aire would probably be a little more busy than when we last stayed, we were surprised on our arrival, that every space was taken with Italian vans. So, we stopped there for a late lunch, and then continued on a bit further to Santo Stefano al Mare.

Once again the day was hot. At eight thirty this morning, the temperature inside Marge was 25c. The sun finding every gap through the trees to percolate. We'd managed to dry our washing within an hour and a half before we left. Today's journey was hard going, hot and uncomfortable, and on top of that, we had to tolerate the impatient lorry drivers on the autostrada, mainly the Spanish, who thought Marge was driven too carefully, rather than for fuel consumption. Marge's response, 'eat my exhaust fumes!'. She's definitely , a van with attitude. Flashing your lights at her, will not impress her.

Arriving at tonight's stop, we were glad there had been no space at Celle Ligure, the aire here is right on the seafront, and on the flat! There is another English van here, the couple are from Brighton, and have taken a year off work to travel. Lucky devils!

We chatted to them, for well over an hour. It was the longest we'd spoken to anyone else since leaving home. The air here is warm, and there's a strong breeze blowing, but we welcome the freshness, after so many weeks of searing heat. We have a view of the sea, and know we will sleep well, listening to the waves. Whilst we were cooking our evening meal, an Italian registered van pulled in next to us, a little close for comfort, for John. Stepping out of our van to advise them on where the parking meter was, in conversation the Italian lady told him they were going to Scotland this year.'Well I'm half Scottish', he is heard to say. So on that note, I guess it's, 'you canna parka your van, as closa to mina, as you lika!'. As, we sat down to eat, yet more pasta, a couple in their seventies walked along the seafront. The man, very stylish in a white linen suit, and green trainers!

As lovely as it is here, we are already missing the cheery sounds of Lino, 'best ice-cream in Italy, you know!'.