Travel info meter set to 99%. We had an early (before 11:00) train out of Aix so we packed up and made our last journey down the hill pulling our luggage with backpack strapped on and Carol toting her new bag filled with essentials (everything is an essential at this point). to the bus station for our trip to Marseille where we would catch the train to Ventimiglia, just inside the Italian border.
Marseille is the oldest city in France and second largest and the train station bore that out. With French efficiency the platforms were nearby to the seating and eating areas and my stress level was manageable. Soon we were off. The Mediterranean to our right and the Alps to our left. We made stops in a few small towns which hosted tourists from the world over. Cannes, Nice, and Monte Carlo were next in line. The film festival in Cannes was wrapping up and it was the Formula 1 weekend in Monaco so there were a lot of fabulous yachts in the harbors, marinas, and anchored out at sea.
We arrive in Ventimiglia in early afternoon. It is the easternmost point of the Italian Riviera. As romantic as that sounds the station is dingy and as we step out into the sun it is distinctly gritty and the people around also. The Italian military is represented by a few women in fatigues with their distinctive alpine hats with a feather standing up on the side. They have sidearms holstered at their hip and look efficient in their stature. There are also Polize around, burly men with no-nonsense attitudes. There had been a suspicious package in the Monte Carlo station and we had been held on the tracks for 25 minutes as it was inspected.
Outside, there lounged around the parking area and roundabout fountain about 30 young African men. It was quite unnerving as we had expected a more idyllic scene upon our arrival and having no experience whatsoever with this type of scenario. We had very superficial plans to be met by our hosts who lived far up in the mountains and we had spotty communications with them leading up to this. No idea what they looked like, the vehicle they would be driving or even a specific time as they both worked their organic farm and ran the bnb on the side.
We had help using the phone from one of the military women and eventually we had made contact and our saviour arrived. Paolo, a 54 year old father of 3 and Isabella, his wife, would be our hosts for the next 2 days.
The road to their place was less than 2 km but the road had more than 50 twisting turns and switchbacks and the road was only one lane with traffic in both directions with only a few slightly wider areas where you could pull out with the vehicle leaning against the mountain or leaning precariously near the cliff edge. Paolo tooted his horn twice on every blind turn as would any approaching vehicles and a compromise was reached as to where each other would go and who would give ground. Paolo talked through the entire ride as it was second nature for him because they had lived here for 20 years.
Upon arrival we met Isabella who broke down any barriers there might have been culturally and language-wise. She was both motherly and a friend immediately. The view from the house was stupendous! Only through pictures could you imagine the scene. 400 meters above the city there were vistas of the surrounding mountains and ancient towns dotted among them in all directions. It was magnificent! They had one daughter, Mailys (my-lees) who was 15 and was the daughter everyone would want to have. Bright, respectful, with a charming smile. They also had 5 dogs, all the same breed of ?sheepdog, not the traditional northern style but were dark in color with eyes obscured with ratty hair. The puppy and a 10 year old were theirs and the other 3 had been rescued recently from an unsavory situation where they existed only for breeding and this breed that thrives on herding sheep and goats had been confined for years. They truly looked sad and would take time for them to adjust to their new freedom.
With no easy access to town we made arrangements for Isabella to make us a special meal and eat with the family on one of the outdoor terraces later that evening.
We acclimatized to our suite below, a one bedroom with private bath, and sitting area outside our door overlooking the grand scene all around us.
Paolo had been having trouble with the wild boars that populated the area and had laid waste to many of his rock walls that terraced their property. It would always be a never-ending battle as the boars had been mated with pigs decades before and instead of 2 litters of 1 or 2 babies they now had 2 litters of up to 10 piglets, with no real predators to keep them in check. Shotguns were the main method of subtraction.
The meal was of a magnitude that I couldn’t imagine, everything homemade and organic, sourced locally and from neighbors and friends primarily. They produce olive oil and honey on their farm with many olive trees and hives around the property. This was evident in the dressing for the salad and as a topping for the fresh bread and in the amazingly wonderful coffee, which they sourced from Naples after much trial and error. Of course there was pasta with pesto using her own herbs. Homemade quiche, Paolo’s own wine and more that I can’t recollect. The dessert was a special recipe cake famous in the Naples area made with ricotta, eggs, delicate pastry, orange rind, and citrus custard. I was already more than stuffed when it was presented before us and the serving was huge. Inwardly I groaned, knowing that it would be a restless sleep as my body adjusted to my new girth.
Eventually we said our good night’s and retired to our latest sanctuary. It was a good day.
Blue Delivery 