I have learned to live without a lot of VITAL things here in Italy.  Good natural peanut butter, hummus, tortilla chips, sweet gherkins, to name just a few.  But something I CANNOT live without is coffee.  I am one of those rare people who prefers American coffee to Italian coffee.  I've never been able to get used to espresso and even the "longer" coffee is too bitter for me.  The toasting is different, the grind is different.  Italian coffee is a different animal altogether.  So usually I fill my suitcase with enough vacuum-packed bags of joe to get me thru the year.  Somehow last September I miscalculated.  I will run out in 2 weeks!!!!  This would be very bad.  In any other country it would not be a problem.  Any other country.  Even in Istanbul, land of the famous Turkish coffee, (Not that I recommend it.  Imagine drinking silty tar), there was a Starbucks on every corner.  Starbucks are flippin'  everywhere!  Except Italy.  The first is set to open in Milan sometime later this year.  That does me no good.  There are shops that sell American products including things like coffee-mate and poptarts, but no coffee.  I've considered having Grace ship some from London, but I can't trust the postal service.  I have been distraught I tell you!  But then!  Amazon!  Three pound cans of Kirkland coffee, (for those of you not in the know, that is Costco's brand, and quite good I might add), shipped to my door at the same price I'd pay there!  I ordered two.  They arrived at school on Wednesday.  Happy happy.  I can remain my hypo caffeinated self.  xxoo me

After the snows that we encountered on our adventurous trip over the Alps into France, the white stuff just kept on coming.  We went up today to snowshoe and man, was there snow.  Half of the parking areas in our usual place were still under huge mounds and the town was in no hurry to clear them out even though the people utilizing them bring in big bucks because there is also a ski resort.  Typically Italian style, with the reduced parking, people had to get creative and equally typical, the parking nazis were out in force to ticket them.  Here is a tiny village that lives on tourism.  They are in the Alps.  It snows.  But as mentioned before, plowing is not a strong suit here.  So they don't plow the parking lots for the skiers and hikers and snowshoers.  Then they ticket them for parking in the "out of bounds" areas!  Nuts.  You'd think I'd be used to it.  But I digress.  Back to our day and my decision once and for all that I HATE THE COLD, I HATE ALTITUDES.  I've tried.  I've given it my all but it is f@#%ing torture for me to climb mountains in the snow.  It's bad enough when it's warm and I can at least take a break, lie in the sun, pull out a book and say, "Nope.  Not going on.".  But when it's fricking 10 degrees that is simply not an option.   I'm a lowlander.  Keep me at sea level.  And preferably 60 degrees and over.  It has snowed so much that the trails were indecipherable.  GP and I started out on our own but ended up banded together with a couple in front of us and one that came up behind because the going was so slow.   There have been small avalanches that brought down piles of trees and then covered them with new snow.  We thought we were crossing hills when in fact there were large voids just under us.  I stepped in one and had a good tumble.  I had to take an alternative track to catch up with the group.   It was also damned cold.  I lost feeling in my fingers and toes and was thinking I'd end up like one of those frostbite victims you see on the news with no digits saying, "I'm just so lucky to be alive!".   The going was so tough I was praying the hut would be closed so we could turn back before the final 1/3 that is all steeply uphill.  We had heard rumors that it was and my frozen fingers were crossed.  But no such luck as we passed a guy coming down that said all was clear.  Ya, right.  When we did finally arrive, the lone employee, a sad Romanian, said we were the first people he'd seen in a week.  It was at this point that GP chose to tell me that the avalanche warning system was a 3 out of 5.  Grounds for divorce?  Me thinks so.  Stomping back down, freezing, fearing for my life, I decided I'm done.  I'm sticking to long walks along the sea.

These are the tops of trees that usually tower over us!

That, my friends is a footbridge.

These trail markets are 6.5 feet tall.

Ok.  So it's pretty.

Back on Terra Firma.  Woolly socks and a bottle of Barbaresco.  Off to watch McMafia.   xxoo me

I'm telling everyone that I'm Canadian.  Really.  I'm wondering if with one Canadian grandparent I can get my citizenship or whether I'll be banned because the US has become a shit hole country.  Not like Norway.  It's beyond belief.  At school we American teachers spend our time distancing ourselves from our government.  How sad is that?  That American sense of pride and privilege, of global goodwill, has gone down the drain in less than a year.   We are snicked at by South Africans!  "Welcome to the club",  they say.  How much longer will this vile ignoramus torture us?  Sorry.  Had to vent.

On our way back we stopped in Avignon, a city divided in two by a main drag and the massive Popes Palace.  Again the old city is walled, the Palace is awe inspiring, and a lot of the city is crumbling. 

The Popes Place

Place du Palais

the palace is built atop huge stone masses

the view from a bridge

As I said,  the walled old city is divided in two by Rue del la Republique, a wide avenue that goes from one of the city's gates to the Palace.  To the left of the Rue are expensive restaurants, designer shops, well kept buildings.  To the right are tattoo parlors, discount stores and peeling relics of better days. 

Old and shabby can be charming.  Dilapidated, not so much.  I found the state of the cities in the south disconcerting as the only areas of France I've known are the Cote d' Azur, (stinking rich),  the French Alps, (pretty stinking rich and very tidy and beautiful), and Paris which is...well Paris.  Once past the well heeled "French Riviera", the poverty rates in the south skyrocket and in fact, upon investigation, the area from Marseille to the border of Spain has some of the poorest communities in the country.  Who knew!

Our last stop however was just a hop skip and a jump from Saint-Tropez.  We had never been to Frejus so decided that would be the destination of our last night.   The old town is small and quaint surrounded by exclusive gated apartment complexes, golf courses and shopping centers.  The port seems brand spanking new and is impeccable.   I can imagine a walk around this place would cause some serious boat envy.  It was very quiet on this blustery day but considering the number of restaurants, waterfront bars, clubs and hotels, high season must be bustling!

empty beach

looking back at the port from a pier

a walking bridge across a canal

sadly we saw these blockades up all over pedestrian areas to prevent another incident like Nice

So now we're home.  It's raining and about 10 degrees Celsius  lower than in France.  Back to work tomorrow and back at my exercise program.  Gotta work off those croissants and crepes and Tarte Tatin...  xxoo me

the castle within the castle

gargoyles

moi

weird Dr Seuss trees

La Cite'

After Arles and the Camargue, we moved on to the Languedoc area and Carcassone.  Carcassone is famous for it's walled citadel, La Cite', from the 12th century.  Within the walls there is an entire little village and another walled, moat surrounded castle!  It has more than 2 million tourists a year.  It was packed while we were there and difficult to navigate it's narrow streets.  I cannot imagine during the summer.  Now the town of Carcassone, with this tourist magnet, UNESCO site in it's midst, should be, one would think, a destination of it's own.  The countryside surrounding is lovely.  The sea is only 1/2 an hour away.  The weather is spectacular.  But no!  Another big surprise.  Carcassone proper is an absolute dump.  It is decadent in the true meaning of the word.  What was once obviously a prosperous, attractive little city has fallen into decay.  Easily 1/3 of the shops are boarded up.  The buildings are dirty, in need of serious repair.  The sidewalks are unwalkable.  The green spaces are untended and trash filled.  There are street people and gypsies everywhere.  It is depressing beyond words to see such beautiful old buildings in ruin.  We were shocked.  How could the monies brought in by La Cite' not trickle down to the town below?  Dunno.  We left as soon as possible and again headed to the seaside to see the coastal towns.  We were rewarded.  Here we found Narbonne.

Famous Cathedral wrapped up for Christmas

Canals and houseboats abound

I love these guys!

And look!!!

When we drove to our hotel that night we passed this sign, obviously put up in honor of Trump!!

The saga will continue!  xxoo me

We got back from southwest France yesterday and back on the diet.  No more chevre, baguettes, tartes from the boulangerie.....  Actually looking forward to salad and yogurt.  Kinda over did it with the rich stuff these past few weeks. 

As for our trip.  First I must EAT MY WORDS.  I can no longer say "I don't like the French".  I have to be much more specific and say "I don't like the Parisians, Cote d'Azur-ians and the Chamonix-ians".  The people we met on this road trip were all very pleasant and some downright charming!  That was one surprise.  There were many! 

Our destination day one was Arles, in the Camargue, as I HAD to see the wild horsies!  It should have taken about 4 hours and been relatively uneventful but no....  And why?  Because my husband NEVER LISTENS TO ME!  HE decided some time back that we should go over the mountains from Sestriere in Italy, to Briancon in France.  He said it would be scenic as it was a route we'd never taken.  I said, "yes, but it's winter and the roads might be bad, and it will undoubtedly take much longer than if we take the highway along the coast."  I reiterated this a multiple times right up to the time we left on Friday.  But noooooo.  Guess who was right?  And here is the issue.  Though we are talking about major roadways running through the Alps and very busy, ski resorts, Italians are lousy at plowing.  By the time we got to Sestriere, (an Olympic ski resort fer Chrissakes, they should be able to deal with snow!), the roads were terrible and the weather was worsening.  Now if you are like me you probably think that once we crossed over into France the situation would improve as we all know it's the Italians who are lackadaisical about little things like road safety.  You would be wrong.  Again surprise!  As bad as the roads were on the Italian side, at least they pretended to plow and we did in fact see two plows on the drive up the mountains.  The French didn't even try to fake it.  NO snow had been removed, only packed down by the passing traffic.  It was freakin' treacherous!  And the French... they love their tire chains.  Cars were pulled over either putting them on or taking them off all the way down the mountain and usually in the most inconvenient places.  Add to this the fact that this narrow, unplowed, scenic route also happens to pass the only shopping center for 100 square miles with no traffic light at the turn off, it took us nine #%@! hours to get down!!!!

Italy

France

It was another couple of hours to Arles so all in all our should have been 4 hour drive took almost 11.  Should have listened to the wife.....


We got to Arles in time to drop our stuff at the hotel and wander the town looking for a restaurant.  Shelly needed sustenance after the harrowing trip.  Arles is a largish town with a sort of shabby charm.  Lots of peeling paint and crumbling plaster.  The old center is tiny and as the town is so close to the sea it's a summer destination so it was mostly shuttered.  We saw what there was to see with a quick walk around the next morning.  We bought pastries from a boulangerie for breakfast.  Damn those French can bake!  Then it was off to the Camargue to see the seaside, the marshes and the horses! 

The Arena, Arles

Saintes-Maries-de-la-mer

Traditional style house

Horse paths everywhere

Horses and Bulls

Riding school

The area has a long tradition of bulls and bullfighting, (which they still have!), so there are bull farms and bull symbols everywhere.  (also bull meat which let me just say, is disgusting)  The native white horses are mostly domestic but still roam around wild in the marshes and the countryside.  They are stocky and docile and fuzzy!  Saintes-Maries-de-la-mer is one of two towns in the Camargue National Region.  It was almost completely shut down for the winter.


More tomorrow, xxoo me