Four Countries in one day !

It's 6am and I'm woken from my sleep by the shrill of my alarm clock. I always hate that moment, especially on a Saturday and I immediately wonder why I put myself through this. I've been setting the alarm clock all week for work and here it is making my head hurt at the weekend. However those thoughts quickly dissipate once I've stumbled, bleary eyed and blinking out of bed. I may be in the UK at this moment, but today I'm off to France.... and Monaco..... and Italy, making 4 countries in a single day. It's going to be tiring, I'm going to be spending considerable time on public transport but at least the weather will be nice and having learnt my lesson from the last trip, I've already packed my sunglasses!

I touched down in Nice on the French Riviera, the weather glorious as it generally is, blue skies and warm sun and very little cloud. Due to various logistical issues, I had agreed with Mark and Sheila that I'd meet them later in the day so I headed for the airport bus station to catch a bus (buses are becoming something of a theme aren't they?) to Nice itself. The 'airport end' of Nice is all concrete and graffiti but at the other end of the Promenade des Anglais lies the very attractive heart of Nice. The old town and the area around the port are particularly pretty. The warm aqua blue waters of the Mediterranean are always very inviting and the sweeping pebble beach attracts sunbathers in large quantities. As regular readers will know, I do tend to walk around and observe the locals, enjoy the cultures and take in the scenery whilst basking in the generally better weather. This trip was no exception. I walked The Promenade des Anglais (walk of the English) from the bus stop at Nice Ville up to the Port and back again and eventually found myself sitting on the beach itself. Despite it only being mid morning, the temperature was well into the 20s and I was still wearing my UK clothes. In my rucksack however I did have my shorts so as I was on the beach surrounded by practically naked bodies, I didn't think anybody would object to my changing out of my trousers and into my shorts. Besides the french change right there on the beach all of the time, so I thought I should do too. An hour or so later Mark phoned to say that he and Swedish family friend, Emily were at the airport having flown in from London and Stockholm respectively. I therefore boarded the bus back to the airport to meet them.




Once the three of us were all united, we boarded a bus to Monaco where we were to purchase our tickets for the Classic Monaco Grand Prix the following day. We duly arrived in Monaco, my third country of the day... and it was still only lunch time ! Monte Carlo was very busy with large areas of the town closed off for the motor racing and the population swollen heavily by tourists. Tickets were purchased and our next destination was to head further East and back into France to the seaside town of Menton where we would meet Sheila and the rinky dinks. This entailed yet another bus ride, my fourth of the day. And to think that before my weekend in Palma a couple of weeks earlier, I had only been on maybe 2 buses in the past 20 years !


Menton is a delightful town, sitting between Monaco and the Italian border. I've been here a couple of occasions before and always enjoy my visits. We weren't going to spend too long in Menton as we were merely meeting up here before travelling into Italy for the remainder of the afternoon. We did however walk along the beach before Sheila passed us in the car, the kids waving manically from the back seat.


I've made numerous attempts to get to Italy and all of them, to date, have failed due to various mechanical problems. On one occasion we broke down twice in 2 days, the second occasion being within sight of the previous days breakdown location. Passing motorists must have thought we were holidaying on the hard shoulder !






San Remo in Italy - my final country of the day - is only 60 Kilometres East of Nice and lies on the Italian Riviera. It is a typical Mediterranean seaside town but in my opinion had a different look and feel than the French resorts a few kilometres along the coast. Many of the buildings clearly dated back many years but were in the main,well preserved and freshly painted. We walked along the road that hugged the coastline and eventually found ourselves at the harbour which was populated with the ubiquitous sailing boats and motor yachts but also had many fishing vessels and industrial barges which is something that you don't really notice in the French marinas. We were heading for the restaurant where we were to later have our dinner. My nephew Matt is studying Italian at college and has subsequently been on an exchange visit with an Italian family which required him to speak entirely in Italian. I was amazed at how proficient he was. He's clearly fluent in English, his native language but is also fluent in French, his domicile language and is certainly now conversational in Italian and yet he's only 15.

Matthew managed to make a reservation for 6 of us on the terrace for 8pm that evening. Imagine the mayhem if I had tried to place the reservation in Italian? This reminds me that over recent weeks I have had to try my hand at French, German, Spanish and now Italian. For someone who can barely speak English, this is something my brain struggles to cope with and I have to really concentrate on where In Europe I am, and therefore what word I need to use. Is it, Yes, Si, Oui or Ja ? Maybe a lusty nod of the head in such circumstances would suffice?

We retired to the local street-side cafe. It was nice to just chat and have a beer in the sun whilst the residents and tourists of San Remo went about their business. As usual I just sat and watched and was interested to note how the Italians talk vigorously with their hands. Every comment is met with a gesture, often with arms outstretched and hands open wide. Many of the conversations were spoken loudly as if they were argueing with each other, maybe they were, but thankfully conversations generally ended with big smiles and that continental cheek touching these Europeans call kissing. The Italians, I also noticed, mirrored their stereotypical image of being largely well dressed, sporting expertly styled hair and wore dark uber cool sunglasses which sets them a good distance apart from the people I see back home in say, New Brighton on a sunny afternoon.

The meal on the terrace at our chosen restaurant was delicious. I, along with Becky and Matt went for Cotoletta alla Milanese, or Wiener schnitzel as it’s known in the UK... and presumably, Austria. Mark, Sheila and Emily went for the Sushi buffet. Much conversation & merryment was had as the sun went down over San Remo whilst we looked out over the Mediterranean Sea from our terrace table.

The following day most of our party were catching the train to Monaco for the Classic Grand Prix. I reported on this event 2 years ago in this post. We were located in stand K8 which was at the "swimming pool" section of the track and overlooking the giant super yachts of Monaco marina. The weather was cooler than the previous day and we were under cloud cover for the whole morning. However, the temperature was pleasant and the racing was excellent. The highlight of this meeting is always the Ferrari parade where, as you may have guessed Ferrari's F1 cars, old and new parade around the tight twisting circuit. Despite the name "parade" this is a competitive affair which was later proved when two of Michael Schumacher’s ex Championship winning cars from the early naughties, collided at the chicane as they exited the tunnel. Both cars suffered damage and one was immediately retired under a red flag and with the safety car deployed. It later looked rather forlorn as it was carried from the track by a pick up truck for some clearly expensive repairs.

In a later race featuring cars from the late 70's (think, 6 wheel Tyrell’s, John Player Specials, March and Lotus from your Scalextric's sets as a child) a couple of cars collided and one of them left the tarmac and rolled over. Luckily the roll bar and the air intake held firm preventing injury to the hapless driver inside. Mark and Emily left early in order to take their respective flights to the UK and Sweden. My flight was much later so I, and Matt, stayed until the very end of racing before catching the train to Nice Ville and then my 6th bus of the weekend, back to the airport where we met Sheila and Becky for dinner and good-byes. As always a fantastic weekend.



Until the next time....

Don't forget your sunglasses

Today's posting of Weird Weekends takes me to the holiday Isle of Majorca, somewhere I hadn't been surprisingly, since the Summer of 1987. In fact I hadn't even been to Spain since that holiday with Kev Riding and Graeme Morris. This I put down to discovering the many delights of the USA the following year, and subsequent aeroplane trips were spent going further and further afield. Spain just dropped off my radar. It's only in the recent years that I've started taking trips, once again into Europe. This has largely been due to the availability of budget airline flights which meant that eventually a trip into Spain was inevitable, and that's why I found myself squinting into brilliant sunshine and bathing in the pleasant warmth of a Spring, Balearic Saturday morning. Unfortunately I had stupidly left my sunglasses in the car at Liverpool airport so squinting, with a rather unattractive Mr Magoo face (remember him?) was to become something of a feature for the next 48 hours !

Now Palma airport for all it's good points doesn't have the best public transport links. It does appear that most people arrive on package tours, are met my chirpy, clipboard wielding holiday reps and escorted to fleets of coaches for onward transit to their chosen hotel. Independent travellers like me, have to make do with either cripplingly expensive taxis or the local bus service. I seldom travel on buses for one simple reason. I don't know what bus to catch. I also don't know what route they take or how I'm supposed to know when I've arrived at my stop. For this problem to materialise, you don't need a trip abroad, you just needs a bus ! So here I was, both abroad.....and on a bus, with no idea when to get off. However, I did get the feeling that all of my fellow passengers were in the same position as me. Each of us had hopped on at the airport and we were all waiting for someone to recognise when they'd arrived and get off. This would then be the cue for the rest of us to also get off. It became a battle of wits as to who would crack first under the pressure. The little Japanese lady opposite me was my personal choice as with each stop, she'd look around nervously to see if anybody else was getting off and on a couple of occasions would even gather her bags and attempt to get up from her seat before losing all confidence and sitting back down again. Then, almost un-noticed a small man of advancing years could take no more and displaying a sprightly turn of foot, leapt up and exited the bus at the very last moment, spreading panic amongst the rest of us as the hydraulics wheezed that familiar "shhhhhhhhh" and the doors closed firmly behind him. The next stop brought a stampede of leavers but I held firm for a further 2 stops but finally gave in and left the bus as the blue waters of the Mediterranean proved too inviting.

Palma is not only the largest city in Majorca but is also the largest in the Balearic islands. The airport in Palma is one of the busiest in Spain and handles an astonishing 19 million travellers per year. The port is a magnet for cruise ships and two enormous ships were docked whilst I was there. The marina is pretty and contains numerous vessels from the 'run of the mill' sailing boats to the tourist catamaran ferries through to the privately owned, multi million pound super yachts. All of them sparkling in April sunshine as they gently bobbed in the calm waters of the marina.


As it was only 9:30am when I exited the bus, it was too early to check into the Hotel so I went exploring for several hours. The marina and port area of Palma was lined with Palm trees, beneath which a cycle and pedestrian path hugged the marinas wall. There were numerous cafes, restaurants and bars, all of which looked very inviting and had panoramic views of the marina and the expensive toys tied up alongside. There was a definite holiday atmosphere to the area and it was hard to believe, as I wandered along the path in warm sunshine, that only 3 hours earlier I had been in a cold and windy UK, driving in the rain under night cover.



It took me over an hour to walk the length of the marina and I eventually found myself in the Old Town of Palma. This, in keeping with most European old towns, was a myriad of narrow lanes with cobbled streets and thick, stone walled houses. There was the obligatory sight of wizened old men in flat caps and pork pie hats sitting on walls and benches doing nothing in particular. The highlight of the Old Town is the Gothic Cathedral that dominates the Palma Bay skyline. Completed in 1601, having taken an astonishing 371 years to build - although the bell tower is still unfinished even today, the cathedral overlooks the Royal Almudaina Palace and the city of Palma in general. It's visible for miles around, especially at night when the building is lit and stands out like a lighthouse for both landlubbers and sailors to see.

I wandered around the Old Town for a couple of hours, squinting and sweating as I went. Progress was slow due mainly to the oppressive heat which made walking hard work, especially as I was still wearing my UK '4am start on a cold April morning' clothes. I realised that I really should have left my sheepskin coat at home, as the temperature board on the office building across the road, read 24 degrees !



After many drink stops and general sitting down to people watch, I noticed that my head was getting rather sore and realised that my fair skin was burning. As my hair has lost interest over the years and left me for good, my head has newly exposed skin with each passing summer and this turns beetroot red and burns much quicker than the rest of my body. This was clearly one of those moments. I elected therefore to head towards the hotel to check-in and then participate in one of the great Spanish traditions, the siesta.

My hotel was excellent, and at £43 per night - even at a poor Sterling to Euro exchange rate - was superb value for money. I had a balcony with a sea view, mini bar, air conditioning and Liverpool v Fulham was live on the telly albeit with a Spanish John Motson doing an overly enthusiastic commentary. This was going to be a very pleasant siesta.... and indeed it was. I woke several hours later feeling refreshed but sunburned and then just sat on the balcony drinking a beer and watching the many ships and boats in the bay as the sun went down. The view from my room is shown below.


The evening was glorious. Warm with very little breeze. I went out for dinner and to do some night photography. The cathedral looked amazing in the distance, all lit up and under a perfectly clear sky and a full moon. The boats in the marina looked warm and inviting, various groups were having dinner on their respective decks and the night was filled with the sound of clinking wine glasses, cutlery and much raucous laughter. I spent around 2-3 hours soaking up the ambiance and just watching the World go by before eventually retiring to the hotel and subsequently, bed. I'm sure that the resorts of Magaluf and Palma Nova a few kilometers up the coast, were more lively on a Saturday night but at this precise moment I was very content with life.





I'm guessing that most visitors to Palma head for the beaches in their airport coaches, under the guidance of their chirpy reps and therefore only pass through Palma itself on the way to and from the airport. However, they really are missing a pretty city, small enough to walk around but large enough to fill a weekend. If you fancy a couple of lazy days away in almost guaranteed sunshine then Palma should definitely be on your list of places to go.... Oh and don't forget your sunglasses !

Things I've learnt this week:-

1. That sheepskin coats are rather unnecessary in hot sunny climates
2. That sunglasses are very necessary in hot sunny climates and should, in no circumstances, be left at the departure airport.
3. That squinting for 2 solid days leaves white lines all around your eyes which look stupid when you get home with a suntan.

Until the next time.