Castellane

A late evening walk out last night, behind the beachfront restaurant, from which emitted some seventies music, which the sophisticated diners, danced to in their sophisticated way.

The moon, a spotlight on the Mediterranean. Our last night in Italy, turned out to be one to remember. Oh my god! What a night. We were woken by the thumping base of house music, the nearby beach restaurant, had turned into a night club. A hotbed of jumping hormones and music, which went on until five o' clock this morning. After which there was another hour of noise from the 'pumped up' youngsters, making their way home. So much for a nice peaceful, idyllic spot over looking the sea!

Just before ten o' clock this morning, we rose, with tired eyes and headaches, and not from too much wine. More gentle music was playing from a nearby cafe, and to the left of us the sports centre was holding a track event, with constant announcements over the public address system. And on top of that, we'll let's throw in some church bells as it's Sunday.

On that note, as soon as we'd cleared up after breakfast, Marge said, 'addio Italy'. 'It's been an experience!'.

At 12.56 pm, we entered the mountain tunnel, where half way through, we would enter France. As we crossed the border, with a 'bonjour Francais', it wasn't long before we were at the 'peage' for the toll road. As we passed through, Marge obviously caught the eye of the border police, and we were pulled over. All those miles in Italy, passing by the spot checks of the Carabinieri, and now Marge had caused us unwanted attention. However, after a quick look inside the van, including the bathroom, (what a brave police officer, the chemical toilet needed emptying), we were waved on our way. No, Mr French police officer, we did not think to bring an African over the border with us, we thought that they were best left in Italy, to supply visitors with sun glasses, umbrellas, beach balls, sun hats etc.

Our journey along the toll road took in Monaco and Nice, where we could see the super yachts. On the outskirts of Nice, we passed the stadium where the Women's Football World Cup was being held, and saw the coaches ferrying the Swedish and Thai teams to today's match, with a heavy police escort. Stopping for lunch shortly after, at a service area, we then continued onto Grasse, thankful, that it was Sunday, as the road through the town was quiet, and we had some problems finding our way. Leaving the home of perfume, we began to climb, and climb, and climb into the Maritime-Alps. Marge 1 would not have coped with the relentless climb, but Marge II, having had plenty of practice over the last few weeks, slowly pulled herself up the relentless climb and switchback bends. At one point we were so high, even the driver felt a little sick, although that was probably due to the fact, the toilet was being stirred up!

We stopped, when we could safely, to take photographs, gathering some wild herbs, and inhaling the fresh smell of pine.

Around six o' clock, we arrived in the pretty town of Castellane. The temperature was 29c, which surprised us, we'd expected it to be quite a bit cooler once we returned to France. The aire is situated right in the centre of the picturesque town, under a large rock, on top of which, is the Chapelle Notre Dame. We were glad to be back in familiar France, even though we have not been to this region, Provence before.

Our plan is to stay in this area for a few days.