Miscellany

For Peter, an Italian rock climber.




Italian rock climber, resting.

What's that about 'sleeps with the fishes'?

The Chess Game, reprise.

Portovenere

We got as far as Portovenere, and then had to stop for coffee (or white wine)

A little light exploring in the back streets of the old town, then

Peter had to dip his hand in the Mediterranean (he pulled the same stunt in Arromanches, only it was the Atlantic then. Next thing, he'll want to drop in at Goa on the way home, for the Indian ocean.)

We ended the visit with a closely contested match on the harbour front. Like the 10 day Test, the boat sailed before we could get a winner.

And so to the Cinque Terre

We went down to the harbour, which was defended with cannon out of George III's navy ......

... and fierce coffee-drinking Caribinieri .......

....... and fishermen with HUGE hooks,

And on our way to sea, we were reminded of someone.... now, who could it be??

La Spezia

Lunch on the road again, then ...

... La Spezia at last. Our hotel turned out to be full of Australians, but they didn't pick my accent after 4 weeks in France.

La Spezia is also full of beagles .......

... and the streets are paved with orange juice!

And into Italy

If anything, the roads got hairier, with cliffs, precipices and .....

.... TUNNELS.

In between the sub-terranean parts, the scenery continued to be marvellous, but

... the day was punctuated with the regular counting of tunnels. In the 4 hours from Briancon to La Spezia, Anne counted 137 tunnels.
A full statistical analysis, including types of tunnel (road, rail, foot, boat); numbers of each type; abberant tunnels (e.g. a foot tunnel underneath a rail tunnel containing a moving train) etc will be forthcoming in the fulness of time.
Anne is considering a PhD thesis on the subject.

Out of France

"Early start" said the tour guide, and then he proceeded to drop his luggage in the parking lot, smashing a full bottle of Pastis inside it. Here he is, blow-drying the nbag, while Anne (unseen) is a t the laundromat washing all the clothes.

We set off, with Cathy driving over horrendous roads, wafted on with the sweet and ALL-PERVADING smell of aniseed.

Half-way up the mountain, Peter rebelled, and expressed himself in the first way that came to mind.

But at last, the bitter-sweet moment of leaving la Belle France, and entering Italia!

Language problems.

In Verdun, Peter and I bought tickets for a museum while Anne and Cathy went to the loo. I explained to the attendant (in French) that his two Australian wives would be along shortly, and would he send them upstairs. He appeared confused.

Votre femme Australien 1

Votre femme Australien 2

Then in Briancon, we decided to have a haircut. Peter rehearsed what he had to say then I added, "moi aussi, avec the comb" pointing to the No.2 cutter comb. well, they got my instructions right, then ...

applied the same instructions to peter. Voila! Un Pierre novelle.

Briancon

This town has 300 days of sunshine each year, and wouldn't you know it? A sunny day! We wandered up the old town,

and back down again.

Then we celebrated our last day in France with a chinese meal. The girls were quite difficult, as usual.

Cold feet

This little stream came from a melting glacier a few kilometres up the valley, and I had this urge ...

..... to see how good it felt when I got out. Actually, while it was bloody cold, I felt I was walking on air for some time afterwards.

To the high Alps

Anne braced herself for ma y turns and tunnels, but Peter (who was driving) was more concerned about the avalanches.


We stopped the night at La Grave, under the shadow of La Meije (God's Finger). Nearly 4000 m high.

Further down the road to Briancon