As mentioned in the last post, on Thursday we set off for Mouans Sartoux, a town about an hours drive east of here, to meet up with Phillip, an English car mechanic. I have given up trying to deal with the French mechanics, and wanted to hand over all things car-related to Lew to sort out! Phillip (who resembles a combination of Steve Gurney and Matt Bouterey), thoroughly checked out the car with Lew, pointed out all that was going wrong, gave us the options, and gave us a good price. Unfortunately no cheaper than the French garage, but at least he's going to give us a car for the 2 days that he needs ours. He's booked up until the 7th May, so we're cautiously driving around until then, trying not to put too much stress on the clutch with smooth gear changes and steady driving!
So, serious car matters ticked off the list, it was time for some cultural education and exploration. We first stopped at La Colle sur Loup, a sleepy little village further east from Mouans. We wandered around there for a while, seemingly having the whole village to ourselves.
Next stop, St Paul de Vence, about 3k away.....and that's where we found the rest of the world! From La Colle sur Loup, all looked very calm and relaxed.
However, approaching the village we were directed into an underground parking building which proudly announced there were 1000 spaces.... For some reason that didn't put us off, and we carefully negotiated round the 5 tour buses... and into the car park.
We then had to pay the feline car parking attendant before entering the village...
St Paul de Vence was a favourite haunt for many artists including Matisse, Picasso and Chagall, with Monet and Renoir just down the road, and the village continues to be an artist's enclave.
The village is protected by ramparts on all sides, and about 7000 people per day squeeze their way in - the place was packed! Artist shops and stalls were tucked into every corner, and if you weren't buying art, you were probably buying something to eat, with restaurants and gelato stalls everywhere. We joined the ranks of the tourists for the gelato...I've got dark chocolate, and strawberry, while Lew has mango, and hazelnut.
Despite the numbers of people around, it was still possible to appreciate the village, especially by keeping to the outer alleyways. Beautiful examples of artwork in the construction of the buildings, like this cornerstone (with kissing chickens ?!?)....
this mullion window....
with incredible detail...
and this chap looking down on everyone...
We really enjoyed the area around the 2 villages, as there's more of an Italian style to the houses and terraces which is quite different to the Provence area where we are living.
A second cultural day out was in store on Saturday, when we went into Nice to meet up with friends James and Helen, who had flown over from England for a city weekend. We drove (carefully!) on the peage and used the Park and Ride system, which was a big success: park your car north of Nice just off the peage, pay 2 euros for a return tram ticket which takes you into the centre of Nice, and then you pay nothing for the parking. If we'd parked in Nice it would have been about 25-30 euros for the day, and we'd have sat in traffic jams for most of it! The trams come every 5 minutes and are totally automated. Very efficient.
We had a great day together, starting with the market in the Cours Saleya. Helen was looking suitably chic and Parisienne in her red jacket and boots, while I was looking....like a Kiwi in my Icebreaker and jeans! Well, the forecast was for thunderstorms and cold winds!
The market was full of the usual things, but this salt stall was a new one for us...
We sat at a cafe in the marketplace watching the world go by and enjoying the first pression (beer on tap) of the day, then had a walk along the Promenade des Anglais. Starting in the second half of the 18th Century, English aristocracy took to spending the winters in Nice. After a particularly harsh winter up north, there was an influx of beggars to Nice. The English decided to put them to good use, and started the construction of a walkway along the sea front, which now runs for 7 kilometres. It's a bit like Wellington waterfront, but much wider, so full of people walking, cycling, and roller blading. The sea was an amazing colour, considering it was a dark day.
Lunch followed, with a bottle of rose wine, and a French woman singing loudly to the crowd for maybe just a tad longer than was welcome. Nice is packed with places to eat, and we were pleasantly surprised at the prices and quality - we guess it is because there's so much competition they have to come up with the goods.
The afternoon was spent firstly in the Matisse museum (disappointing) and then the Chagall museum, which was great. So much colour and detail in his paintings, and quite a sense of humour too, especially in his smaller line drawings.
All in all, a wonderful day out, with lots of chat and laughing, just what we needed to take our mind off the car.
Back home here, we're just in maintenance mode on the property, having done most of the big tasks for spring.
We've constructed a small vege garden, together with chicken-proof fence, much to chickens' frustration. They are as bad as the wild pigs, regularly patrolling the boundary, looking for weaknesses to exploit! This is the leading activist "Speckles".
It's not a huge plot so we've stuck to the basics and easy things to grow like herbs, lettuces, radishes and beetroot. The veges are so cheap here, but we love having fresh herbs outside the door, and everything grows so easily here.
Anzac Day was celebrated in Les Fadons with the usual Kiwi ingenuity. We made Anzac biscuits for a few of the locals and presented it to them in a box (previously used by the local bakery for their "pain noir" loaf of bread), red poppy flowers picked fresh from the fields around the hamlet and a short note about the meaning of Anzac Day and some WW1 Metcalfe family history. This was well received, afterall, who doesn't like receiving gifts of home-made biscuits. The most appreciative were the local French octogenarians, Yvonne and Rene who live next door. We were ushered into their house like long lost friends of the family and it was clear there was no option but to partake of something to drink. An "aperitif" perhaps. Anzac Day needed to be celebrated. Everything seemed to be on offer although I had no idea what was being offered due to my almost complete lack of the French and Jean generally understood but the Provencal twang didn't make the options totally understood. Yvonne disappeared outside briefly and returned with an unlabelled bottle with a cork in it. This could be interesting, I thought to myself. I have recently read that famous book by Peter Mayle "A Year in Provence" that often referred to "marc" - the local white lightning". This stuff is the basis for all deals, card games, solutions and long nights in Provence. Thank goodness we'd had dinner. Out came the most delicate yellow miniature wine goblet glasses that would have looked at home in a doll's house. Rene looked on as Yvonne carefully filled our glasses. He seemed pretty pleased with all his hard work. He has 3 fields to look after. He is meant to be retired but things are pretty busy especially in spring. Lots of veges to plant, vines to prune and grass to cut. They preferred to have another famous French brew at this time of night. Pastis - clear at first but goes cloudy like lemon squash with the addition of water. Tastes like aniseed. Very refreshing after a hard day's work according to Rene. I'd tasted it once and didn't like it much. Not as bad as kava but only marginally better.
So a good evening began. They both know that I can't speak or understand much French. Yvonne was the main talker and she'd chat away, Jean interpreting occasionally and me generally wondering what the hell all the conversation was about. Luckily the white lightning was a very tasty verbena infused liqueur After a while Rene decided I needed to hear about man's stuff and he began talking to me. Jean was doing her best to listen to both conversations but after a few liqueurs it's amazing how much French you can actually understand or at least pretend to understand with timely waving of arms, puffing of cheeks and lots of "Oui oui". Every now and then I'd understand a word or two and figure out that Rene was talking about the terrible weather or that he owned 5 cars - all except one was French made. "Tres magnifique" despite him knowing that we had a totally unreliable piece of French engineering rubbish called a Renault in the shed next door. He prefers Citroen of course. "Superieur". He's probably got a mint 2CV in one of his many sheds. I know he has a well maintained Massey Ferguson 28 tractor that's about the same era. So a lot of fun was had celebrating Anzac day here in Les Fadons hamlet. I wonder what they thought of it all?
So that was our week. Glad to hear that some of you are still reading and enjoying the posts!
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