The contrast between France and Italy was striking. France is a very modern country, almost futuristic. Yet, its history mingles comfortably with the present. The old is well preserved and cared for. Our introduction to Italy was Genoa. Unquestioningly, Genoa is an old city. After all, it was home to Christopher Columbus. Yet, it looks like it was built a couple of hundred years ago and hasn’t had a coat of paint since. OK, so not everything needs a new coat of paint! Genoa is famous for its pesto and the fame is well deserved. I’m not a fan of pasta salads, but trofie topped with pesto is a fine dish. Then, there are the Vespas. Genoa is where the ubiquitous motor scooter was born and the streets are buzzing with them. We took the night train from Genoa to Naples. When we boarded the train, our second class compartment was inhabited by 3 other people. A sixth person joined us later. The compartment has 2 rows of 3 seats each that face each other. It is possible to pull the seats down so you can sort of stretch out from one row of seats to the other. This means that the 6 passengers are arranged side by side, head to toe. When the sixth passenger joined us in our compartment, she virtually took over, stretching out between Claudia and another passenger. Unfortunately, her idea of sharing fell close to “What’s mine is mine and thank you for your generosity.” She sprawled out on her own real estate, fell asleep and took over half of Claudia’s. At least she got off the train in Rome, as did two other passengers, making things more comfortable. Even so, it was a long night. The Naples train station is a very modern affair with shops restaurants and cafés. There is even a McDonald’s claiming free wi-fi. However, in order to use it, you have to have an account with an ISP. Internet access is very, very spotty everywhere we’ve been in Italy. Miraculously we were able to find our friend Al and his boat. He was berthed in a small marina in a cute fishing village about an hour by train from Naples. We bought a couple of kilos of mussels for supper. The idea was to make moules marinières (mussels steamed in white wine and herbs, one of my favorite dishes). The mussels were harvested a few hundred feet from where Sparrow, Al’s boat, was docked. The mussels were so good, simply cracked open and seasoned with a squeeze of lemon, we ate most of them before they even got into the pot. The next morning, we were underway on what turned out to be a virtual non-stop delivery of the boat. We did stop at a couple of places overnight to rest up, but most of the trip from Castellamare (south of Naples on the West coast) to Brindisi on the East coast was spent underway. We sailed past the steep Amalfi coast and little villages that spilled down the side of mountains into the sea. It would appear that all of Italy is built for mountain climbers.

Goodbye, France

It has been a long slog since our last post. We’d hoped to post a bit more about the marvelous time we had in Périgord. Alas! Days without internet access doomed those hopes. We post here a few pix of our final days in France. We visited Collonges la Rouge, an ancient village where a few hundred souls reside in houses built of the local red stone and classified as one of the most beautiful villages in France. Then, no visit to the region would be complete without the famous market at Sarlat—the most famous and possibly the largest market of its kind in France. The time finally came to say “Goodbye” to France. Our trip to Nice took us from the mountainous land of foie gras to the vineyards on the plains of Provence. On the way, we crossed the famous Viaduct of Millau, the tallest bridge in the world. It runs for a mile and a half and one of its masts soars 1,125 feet above the Tarn River valley. At Nice we caught the train for Italy—Ventimiglia (twenty miles) where we transferred to a train bound for Genoa. The contrast between France and Italy was --- well, striking. More about that in the next post.

OVERLOAD!

We’ve been operating in overload since leaving Paris. The trip down to Bordeaux via TGV (Train de Grande Vitesse) was fast and comfortable. More comfortable than the airplane ride across the Atlantic. Picking up the rental car was a snap and with sketchy directions and a hand drawn map, we found our way out of Bordeaux. We missed one turn and ended up on a toll road. We got off at Bergerac, no sign of Cyrano. We only had a highway map from 2003 and not very detailed at that. We had received turn by turn directions to our “gite” from the proprietor. Unfortunately, he thought we were coming from Paris! The 3 hour drive from Bordeaux took 6 hours but we saw some beautiful countryside. This is an agricultural region and things are just coming up. This is the land of foie gras and truffles. Goose and duck farms abound. Our hosts at Barbeyroux welcomed us with a glass of cidre—sparkling wine made from apples. Our room is incredible, upstairs in a stone building that is hundreds of years old. Hand hewn timbers support the roof. We are the only foreigners here, the rest of the guests are French. In fact, most of the tourists we encounter are French. Many guidebooks describe the Dordogne as an “undiscovered” gem. They got the gem part right. If it is undiscovered, it is only undiscovered by Americans. So far, we have seen no Americans here, but lots of French. As I said, we are operating in overload. There is just so much beauty here. The hills, valleys, the farm houses built by hands hundreds of years ago, chateaux, churches, flowers everywhere and on and on. Our first stop was Lascaux, the site of cave paintings made 17,000 years ago. This was possibly the main reason for coming to Périgord. Then, we went to the second most visited site in France—Rocamadour. Imagine building a château several hundred feet up a sheer stone wall in the 1300’s!. The place defies description. For those who are familiar with the “Chanson de Roland,” you can see where he embedded his sword in the stone cliff. Then, there was the “Gouffre de Padirac,” a huge sinkhole and underground river which reminded us of the Lost River in Bowling Green, Ky or a similar thing in Horse Cave, Ky. The boat ride took us into one of the most beautiful caverns we’ve ever seen. The Frozen Niagara at Mammoth Cave pales in comparison. We visited La Roc St Christophe, a truly incredible place. Occupied for over 55,000years, it defies imagination. It is easy to see how man in prehistoric times could set up housekeeping there. The cliff offers numerous levels of rocky overhangs that would provide shelter from the weather, wild animals and unfriendly humans. During the Middle Ages, people built an entire city on the face of the cliff. They closed in the natural overhangs with post and beam walls filled with wattle and daub. There were shops and stables and churches. The reason for building there was protection from brigands and invading Norman armies. I guess life was pretty dangerous back then. I hope you can see why we have been overloaded with everything here. I’ll take a break, post what I’ve got so far and add more later.

BARBEYROUX

Here are a few pix of the place In Barbeyroux where we’ve been staying for the past week. It has been fantastic! Our hosts, M et Mme Vallée, at Barbeyroux welcomed us with a glass of cidre—sparkling wine made from apples. Our room is incredible, upstairs in a stone building that is hundreds of years old. Hand hewn timbers support the roof. We have a nice porch where we can enjoy a glass or two of wine, some cheese, paté, sausage . . . It doesn’t get any better. The place is located at the end of a long road from which it is barely visible.

IT'S A GOOD DAY!

Paris street music, a really good group!

PARIS!

Our stay in Paris has been great. Even though it is much like it has always been for us there are things we noticed that are different. People still hurry from place to place. It’s as if they were 10 minutes late and rushing to catch the last train to somewhere. This, even though the trains run every two minutes. It’s no different on the street. Cars, bicycles and scooters all come to a stop at a red traffic light but when the light turns green, the race to the next light is on with jack rabbit speed. Speaking of bicycles, there are more of them than we remember. You can even rent them at hundreds of locations all over the city. Pick one up at one station, return it at another. No cash needed, just plug in your bank card or get a year’s pass for as little as 19 Euros. Like in most big cities, there are street entertainers wherever there is a crowd. We’ve always said that it’s hard to get a bad meal in France. That’s not true. In fact, the first supper we had was not so good. The format was kind of interesting though. It was a serve yourself, all you can eat place. You could choose starters and a main dish for one price or starters, main dish and dessert for another. We had high hopes because the restaurant had the look of one of those out of the way, undiscovered gems—unfinished wooden floors, campy decorations including a stuffed wild boar’s head and antique stuff. Not undiscovered! Unremarkable. The restaurant down the street made up for it. Like most places, it had a limited menu and two tier pricing. The food was carefully prepared and tastefully presented. Also like most places, the pace was leisurely. It’s interesting that Parisians who always seem to be in such a hurry take two hours or more to eat supper. Of course, we had to pay a visit to “that church” (as we’ve always referred to Notre Dame). Somehow, its immensity never registered as it did this trip. Also registered this time was throngs of tourists. I have pictures of Claudia years ago in front of Notre Dame and there were no other tourists in the picture—an impossibility today. There were literally thousands in line to go inside. The multitudes around the cathedral did not detract from the street music on the bridge behind leading to tiny Ile St Louis. One final note about Paris—Kentucky burley farmers, rejoice! Smoking is alive, well and thriving in Paris. No smoking signs in the cafés are considered suggestions and ash trays are in place on every table

THE SEINE, THE SEINE

After an enjoyable breakfast of café au lait on the picturesque market street, rue Daguerre, we headed for the Gare Montparnasse to buy tickets for the train to Bordeaux. The train station was crowded with people heading in every direction. We had to stand in line for an eternity. But, it was worth it. We now have our tickets and a rental car reservation for the trip to the Périgord. Then, a short Métro ride up Blvd Montparnasse and the cafés made famous by the likes of Hemingway and F Scott Fitzgerald.

Escargots washed down with a pleasant Beaujolais from Brouilly made a fine, light lunch (gotta save room for supper!) As many times as we have been in Paris, we’ve never taken a ride on the Bateau Mouche—tour boat. It is a version of the tour boats that ply the waterways of Fort Lauderdale. We always wanted to take the tour, but always ended up saying, “Next time.” Then, “next time” would come and we’d say it again. Now, we’ve done it. We, along with a busload of Japanese tourists

and several busloads of French school kids who delighted in amplifying their screams with echoes every time we went under a bridge.

Like kids everywhere they were exuberant and invulnérables.

The quays along the banks of the Seine were lined with cruising, liveaboard barges

and people enjoying a fine summer day. Even though the French always seem to be rushing to wherever they are going, they know how to take it easy.

This certainly wasn't the first time we've seen the landmarks of Paris, but seeing them from the river provided a new perspective.