EXPERIMENTING WITH A TELEPHOTO ZOOM.

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Like many other landscape and travel photographers I have long relied upon my wide angle zoom lenses for the majority, if not all my efforts to produce evocative images.  But as time marches on I have taken onboard the advice of many of my Youtube heroes and moved to try and get closer to the landscape and architecture.Compressing the subject from its background can change the look and feel of the final composition into something more interesting and most often perhaps even more pleasurable to the viewer.  I bounce around from system to system.  I am not a professional and that is easy to see.  What I am is someone that is always looking for a change.  

The change has to be for the better.  Now that does not mean that the change will provide me with newer or better equipment.  Sometimes for me a change of system might provide inspiration.  EVF's have become a tool I prefer and enjoy to use.  My sight is failing and I feel that an optical viewfinder does not help me where I need help.In the last 10 years I have used Nikon, Olympus, Leica, Sony, Fuji, back to Nikon and at the moment I am back again with Sony.  It appears that I am not what you would refer to as brand loyal.  I have had a camera in my hands or near by for the last 40 years and as such I have seen very big advancements in every aspect of the hobby.I am currently using a Sony A7II (because my III has been backordered for 2 months) and several Sony lenses.  

I can only hope that the A7III is as good as its hype. I am of the opinion that it must be getting all the accolades and winning over the photographic community for good reason.  My last camera was a Nikon D850 that I would have been still using today if I did not drop it onto concrete from a hight 3 months ago.  It is a magnificent camera capable of exceptional things.As you have read in other posts I can be prone to the odd ramble and as such I am gonna get back to the reason for this post.  I have fallen in love with the Sony FE 70-200mm F4.  I find that it renders beautiful images and is light and relatively compact enough to take very little space in a bag.  

I have used it in several locations both on and off tripod and I feel it is a gem.The colours it produces are accurate and I feel it is just as sharp as other more expensive offerings from both Sony and it's competitors.  I can't speak to the Sony 70-200mm F4 from a technical perspective as I'm not interested.  All I can tell you is that I love it.  I would not rely upon it indoors with the A7II but if the hype is real with III then maybe with enough ambient light and A7S II like high ISO, then maybe it may be ok then too.  What is important to know is that the image quality and sharpness is certainly good enough for me.  The lens is constructed very well and to a high standard in my humble opinion.So what I have left is to provide a gallery of images taken over the last month with the Sony combo.   Please leave your thoughts in the comments below.

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Mont Blanc.

Mont Blanc.

Ypres.

Ypres.

Ypres

Ypres

Ypres

Ypres

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FRANCE WINS!

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I’m not upset nor am I excited.The 2018 World Cup is in the books and France won 4-2 in impressive fashion. The streets of every city, town and village are absolutely crazy. Tens of millions have left their homes and cafe’s and taken to open spaces to wave flags, let off blue smoke and do donuts with cars, trucks and scooters. Life for a Frenchman ce’ coir is a thing of beauty. There are screams, smiles and tears (of joy).We are blessed to be here today of all days. If things work out this wont be the only sporting spectacle that we experience on this trip. In several days we will be at the base of alpe d’huez for a stage of the Tour de France and a couple days later in Monaco for a Diamond League Track meet. Yesterday took us to a neighbouring town nicknamed the Venice of France.

What other than two person gondola racing was on the cards.Yes there were chills, thrills and spills.There were those who tripped and fell as they forged the man made rock waterfalls.There were also those who took so much water on board they spent more time trying to right their boats than race them. This was such a pretty place and so well attended by locals. It was cool to see racers cheered on by family and friends alike.After the festivities we wandered for hours through the narrow streets and over the bridges of the many canals.

We ate at home last night.A meal comprised of Toulouse sausages and Provençal potatoes.It was a wonderful night accompanied by several glasses of Luberon Rose’. This morning took Alli and I back to the tennis club for another hour or so of rallying in the early sun. As per the norm these days we finish at the club then relocate to the local boulangerie for pain au chocolate and some strong coffee. Deanna joined us and we took our time enjoying the atmosphere while reading the paper.

Once we readied ourself for the day ahead, I flashed up the car and we drove off to the east via a route we have never taken before.Sometimes fortune favours the brave and this morning it took quite some nerve to venture down these one lane roads dotted with oncoming traffic. There were moments when cars, buses and tractors approached when my heart stopped and then once we crossed each other’s path unscathed it began to beat again.Success, we lived to tell the story (literally) and my heart got several opportunities to jump start itself.

I hope that this becomes its strong suit if I continue to mainline Rochefort cheese.So there we were in Saignon.Another wonderful hill town completely surrounded by lavender fields and honey farms.This hilltop village was a pleasure to experience. We peered in real estate agent’s windows all the while dreaming of the lotto 649 win we don’t deserve but would graciously accept regardless. I leave you as I continue well into the third straight hour of TV reporters being mobbed by French fans as they venture through the crowded streets of Paris. The Arch de Triumph has never looked better.

Fortis Fortuna adiuvat & Vive la France!

Mark…

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THE WORLD’S LONGEST POSTCARD.

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Before I crack on with today’s nonsense I hope that every reader understands that this word jumble is my therapy.  I am not a writer.  I wish I had the talent that my friend Daryl has.  He has more writing ability in his little finger than I do in every obtuse lump of me.  When considering today’s title I mused over several possibilities. The first was kitschy, something Provençal perhaps?Then I thought maybe something about the continued scorching hot weather. Of course there could have been some self deprecating quote to do with England loosing to the Croatians in the semi’s.

You know something like how to blow a lead and the World Cup in one simple move. When all was considered I concluded that anyone with the intestinal fortitude to take on reading this epic instalment should be forewarned that it will have a ton of photos and may go on much longer than the average self harmer might want to endure. Since the last time I collected my thoughts on paper we have done so much and seen so many places. We have wandered the ramparts and halls of the Papal Palace in Avignon.We have slowly meandered through countless hilltop villages stopping to peer inside shops, galleries and cafes.We have shopped till we dropped in Aix-en-Provence.In between shops we were able to find our way into the Cezanne and Picasso exhibition at the Aix Art Gallery.

Today we left somewhat later than we usually do from home base in Bonnieux and drove to Mennerbes and on through Lumierre to Goult.I have to jump on the sword now and retract my earlier comments stating that Cucuron is the merde’! Goult is now the front runner in the my top Provençal Village ever award.Gordes is spectacular, Lacoste is pretty and filled with Artists in training as they summer at the Savannah College of Art situated below the Chateau. Apparently Pierre Cardin is the benefactor of the village and art school and you can tell as this place drips with style and design.I could go on and on about the veritable cornucopia of little places we have rambled about but at this stage you clearly have got the point.I love France.I love the food. I love the wine.I love that you can't get food or gas or anything for that matter on national holidays and Sundays.I like the style.I like the design.I like the land and the interminable sense of slow and easy.For Christ sake, I even like the little buck o’ five Frenchmen that put out a smoke only to role another and light it immediately. Of course the biggest question of the day is who do I cheer for on Sunday when we once again walk down to our neighbourhood cafe to watch the outdoor 75” flat screen.Ok, I am saying this once and only once.I am cheering for France.Those cheating diving Croatian’s do not deserve the win.

They did not beat England the night before last.They assaulted them.I routinely starred into the eyes of the psycho looking ref on numerous occasions expecting a card.Nothing.Abominable. I have never once in 52 years of watching the soccer or Rugby ever uttered the words "Allez Les Bleu”. But here goes.This Sunday that is all gonna change for one and only one time ever.I swear on my English Rose tattoo (if I had one).Tomorrow is Bastille Day and as such we can expect all kinds of pomp and circumstance. The French are a proud nation. I tip my hat to them. I would trade every member of the Trudeau family (past and present) for one de Gaulle.

Allez Les Bleu!

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38 DEGREES IN THE SHADE.

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An average July Sunday in Provence is slightly warmer than I can stand. I seem to spend more time looking for respite from the nuclear sun than I do anything else. Whatcha gonna do. This is what we bargained for many months ago when we began our planning. It was always going to be Provence but the specifics came later as we scoured Airbnb for options in more than a dozen towns both in the valley and on the hillsides.

After lunch we fired up Sven, cranked the air con and set sale for Chateau Conorgue winery. CC was used as the main set for the movie and as I learned on a previous visit a couple of years ago, had a lovely vintner with lovely wine. Upon arrival we were provided several wonderful vintages to sample and then chose a few bottles to take away with us after the obligatory wander around the gardens. The following day was about venturing a little further afield to Apt which is around 12 kms away to the northeast. We had a brief look about & visited the local supermarche’. We hustled back to Bonnieux to get squared away in time to find an outdoor terrace bar in the village that would hopefully be showing the England Sweden game at 4 o’clock.Success, and a table pour 3 was in a perfect location for the 75” flatscreen hanging from the outside wall. We sat next to a Swedish couple and their young daughter. Being Swedish meant they were all beautiful people. The remainder of the crowd was made up of French locals that spread hate towards the English between cigarettes and Belgians that sat there with their best smug faces.The remainder were sunburned English twats with poncey public school accents screaming at the TV in hopes that Gareth Southgate would hear their requests to get Sterling off and Rashford on.

If those accents were Mancunian or Brummie or even Scoucers I maybe could have accepted their pleas for change. Oh yeah, the most important part is that England were up 2-0 so whats the problem Rupert. If there is a god I will someday find my way to their local polo field or fox hunt so that I may heckle the shit out of them. Today found us on a slow paced drive through countryside with stops in Cucuron and Loumerin. Both lovely and both drop dead gorgeous. We had lunch at L’etang in Cucuron and enjoyed a fabulous meal. Even Allistair had his first foray into true French cuisine with steak tartare avec raw oeuff.

Ces’t Bon!

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WE HAVE ALL SEEN THINGS.

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Most mornings I wake to ponder the day ahead and think to myself nothing will happen that I have not seen at some point before. Most often that statement rings true, however a couple of days ago as I stood in line at TSA pre screening in SEATAC airport I saw something I had never ever seen in the past. There stood a man two in front of me with a form of carry-on luggage of which the likes was unique to say the very least. This man who I will refer to hence forth as Cleatus stood well over six feet and was attired in contrasting plaid and camouflage. His singular proud tooth could be seen from space as it jutted at a right angle from his slack jawed mouth.Cleatus stood shouldering an overstuffed pillow case with what a young man about his local area would need for a holiday away.

I only know this because Cleatus’s pillow case had seen better days and was quite near the point of translucence.I am quite sure that this may have also been a first for TSA as well because Officer Yolanda was a little put out by the contents of the pillow case that had fallen out as it made it's way through the x-ray machine. I had forgot to mention earlier that Cleatus did not have any string around the top of his case to keep it closed in transit. In fact, I have to think that this may have been the first time Cletus may have ever been in transit.Some minutes later Cleatus left on his way and we had gone on ours. We arrived at Gate S8 in time to board our Delta Flight to Amsterdam. I usually have no trouble finding several humorous tid bits to comment on when flying transatlantically. I am happy (or am I?) to report that this journey was without folly.

Our on board staff were crackerjack and our seats were comfortable. Our menu was fabulous and the choices were grand. This is the first time I have flown internationally with Delta and I am very happy to say I hope it is not my last. The service and attention to detail is excellent. I suppose I could natter on about the 60 something couple in front of us.  I would have happily spent time in a Turkish prison to cheerfully murder both for their in-flight antics but that is a whole other story and I want to keep this one slanted towards puppies, cotton candy and unicorns.

We landed in Holland nine and half hours later feeling good and ready to attack the day. Our first stop was at Enterprise to pick up our rental for the next month and we sat second in line for service. As luck would have it our attendant from Ghana as I would later find out was named Godwin. Godwin was happy and smiley and I liked him immediately. As we all know Godwin was about to fleece the shit out of me in the upsell game. Sure we booked with Costco Travel and as such got a smoking price on a Fiat Panda “or similar”. Now, as per usual the “or similar” was considerably smaller than a Panda and Godwin warned us about the cramped quarters and restrictive space for our luggage thank god.Just ten minutes later, under a Ghanaian voodoo spell we left Schipol Airport.  I am at the wheel of a brand new Volvo XC60 with only 1100 km on it and we were rocketing south of Amsterdam with Antwerp in our sights (what do I know about Diamonds) & Godwin saved the day.

Several hours later and we found our way to Passendale in southern Belgium. This town holds a special place in my heart. I recently watched my eldest son parade here with the contingent of Canadian soldiers paying their respects to those who fought before them. The picture above is a part of a memorial commemorating 100 years since those brave Canadian lads pushed forward from the area of that gate to the church in the distance. 16000 Canadian casualties and ten days of wading in waiste deep mud to capture the town. Canada should always remember the bravery and sheer determination of our military heroes.   Today our pathetic prime minister minimizes spending on our military and wastes those dearly needed funds on legalizing marijuana. So there you have it. A PM who wishes for Canadians to have unfettered access to hallucinogenic drugs. So god help us.  Bust out the Oreos Mr PM, you can watch our military do their duty with vintage equipment safely from 24 Sussex after an epic game of C.O.D. and a Rebagliati .

Later we went to Vimy in France. Allistair and Deanna were filled with Canadian WWI history and we were comfortably checked in to our hotel in Amiens.  Timing is everything and in this case as we flopped into bed the TV went on and there was England trying desperately to clutch defeat from the jaws of victory as Columbia netted one in injury time to tie it up 1-1. Certain things are like death and taxes and one of those is England losing games on penalty kicks. Surprise, shock, awe etc etc.

Jordan Pickford stood on his head and as the The Sun Newspaper quoted in its next days front page headline, “The hand of Jord” saved the day and England lives on to meet Sweden in the quarter final.The following morning in Amiens our breakfast was lovely and we bid farewell to our comfortable beds and our pleasant hoteliers as we boarded Sven and drove southwest to Juno Beach and the Canadian Exhibit. I have been interested in the D-Day landings since learning of them as a lad. I have had the pleasure of visiting Dunkirk but this was the first time I had been lucky enough to visit the area Canadian soldiers fought bravely to liberate on that fateful day. We wandered the museum and took in two films based on the experience to later stroll the beach itself. It is truly an ominous feeling to walk along the beach in the Canadian soldiers footsteps. 

We left Juno the richer for the experience and set our sights for Provence and our ultimate destination. We were never going to make the whole journey in one go, so around mid afternoon Allistair  started to work the Hotels.com app for places along our route that were affordable and quiet.We were not disappointed but our hosts were truly surprised as I ran from our car in a deluge that I have never experienced the likes of before. The rain hurt it was coming down so hard. I got to the door and I was met by a couple that have recently opened their 300 year old farmhouse on 4 hectares to guests. They were a young Dutch couple with two kids that we later learned over Heineken had moved to Normandy to escape the rat race in Holland. We sat at their kitchen table and chatted until midnight as we learned about the area and they learned about Vancouver Island. We slept like babies and woke to the smell of fresh baked bread and croissants with pots of apricot and lavender jam.

Thanks Hotels.com!

Thanks Le Rianon

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Back in Sven around 9 and we drove 5 Kms to Boussac to fill his tank and to wander about on market day. An awesome morning and then we settled into our drive south to Bonnieux in the Luberon valley of Provence. The weather has averaged 35c since our arrival and we are happily tucked away in a beautiful French Provençal home for the next two weeks. Thanks AirBnB! We are now temporary members of the local Tennis Club and can’t  wait to make ourselves more at home.Thanks so much Godwin. You are a star. Stand by for more adventure...  

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JUST NEED A LITTLE BIT LONGER.

Here I sit by gate H3 at Fiumancino Airport waiting for flight BA 551.  I am just minutes away from boarding the first leg of my return journey to Heathrow Airport in London.  I have quite a wait there.  Thats ok as there is a lot to do and see nowadays.  Gone are the days of luke warm tea poured by a somewhat disinterested 50 something lady of questionable hygiene.  In days gone by the most you could expect is that she may ask you if you want her to pour milk in it for you.  God forbid that you would be trusted to pour your own milk.Heathrow used to be an airport where the sights, sounds and smells would be enough to put you off ever leaving your couch let alone travel across the world.  Pleasantly London's busiest airport has morphed into a veritable cornucopia of food, beverage and shopping options.  Gone are the pathetic single slice ham on white bread sandwiches and hello to Pret A’ Manger.I have mixed emotions about today.  It has been a long time away from family that I dearly miss but I have also thoroughly enjoyed 98% of my time over the last three weeks.  Of course there are going to be highlights or lowlights anytime you experience as many places as we have.
From the first week in Rome at Claudio’s lovely apartment in Aurelia to our adventures in the North of England and the Scottish Borders we saw and experienced as much as we could.  Upon our return to the continent, we kicked it off by spending way too long at the Thrifty Car Rental counter (lowlight) in Rome but I t turned out to be worth the wait as it was there that we were given the key to our new Fiat 500 in “bianco”.  Not so long afterwards we named him Anthony.Anthony took us on a journey that included: Siena, Pisa, Genoa, San Remo, San Tropez, Cannes, Monte Carlo, Nice, Pertuis, the Luberon (in all its glory), Gap, Grenoble, Geneva, Zermatt, Milan, Florence, Cortona and finally back to Rome.We paid dozens of tolls to drive Anthony on both French and Italian highways.  We felt some reprieve from that highway robbery (pardon the pun) in Switzerland.  Thank you Swiss people for being clean and tidy and exact and punctual and clean and exact and punctual and tidy.  When possible we have really enjoyed the B roads and can only continue to endorse taking them as much as you can and whenever you can.We have paid dearly to eat as of course the pound and the euro are still kicking the crap out of Trudeau’s dollar.  We have scarfed tons of grocery store fresh baked pizza.  Many of my pizza choices were accompanied by a portion of anchovies in chilli olive oil.  We have lived and eaten as close to the locals as possible wherever and whenever we could.  Of course there was that one day of indiscretion in Monaco when both Starbucks and McShit took our hard earned Euros.  What are you gonna do.  Desperate times call for etc etc.Our most expensive meal, even though it was good but simple fair was at the Brown Cow Pub in Zermatt. Our best meal is a tuff call.  Nonni’s in Lourmarin or the most stunning hotel I have ever visited in Cortona.  The Relais Villa Petrischio is exceptional in setting, service, experience and value.  If you Google this place I think you will be suitably impressed.  We had a gourmet 3 course meal with a wonderful accompanying vino rosso.  The primi platti was a local charcuterie board that was followed by two spectacular in presentation and flavour pasta dishes.  This entire experience was presented in a 360 degree glass structure overlooking Tuscany in all its glory.  We both walked out with a bill just under 60.00 Euros. I don’t want to forget about our experience at Nonni’s as that was first class as well. I am boarding now.  Must fly, I will rejoin you in London.Back again, seated at Rhubarb.  Rhubarb is self described as a very British restaurant in terminal 3 at Heathrow.  I have perused the very British menu to find that the first three options are chicken tikka masala, chilli con carne and smashed avocado on toast.  I guess it has been a really long time since I lived here.  I kept reading down the menu to find a full English breakfast option that has turned out to be wonderful.  Not what I expected at the time I ordered.  This restaurant is a fine example of how Britain's membership in the EU is a good thing.The plethora of young energetic eastern european staff are multi lingual, very attentive and well turned out.  I will refer you back to where I started this diatribe with my memories of the Heathrow tea lady with dirty fingernails of old.  Times do change for the better.  I hope Brexit doesn’t screw this up.  But it probably will.I have 5 more hours to kill here today.  Its not going to be easy.  There is only so much perfume immersion overkill one can endure as you shuffle through the numerous duty free shops.  Bottom line is its time to set sail for the west coast of Canada and a return to work.  I can’t wait to be reunited with everyone at home and look forward to seeing them at YVR.Thanks for following along over the last few weeks, where to next?Mark
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GOB SMACKED!

 I am really embarrassed to keep droning on that this place or that was amazing or beautiful . I assume to readers (and believe it or not my stats are going crazy on Wordpress) it gets old or sounds patronizing.The problem is that I am lost for words on this trip.  Sure, places come and go and as such some leave endearing memories and some do the opposite.  In truth, since we arrived in Monaco two days ago after a less than stellar night in San Remo we have been awed at every turn.As we left the coast and wound our way into the Luberon it was unmistakably a place of wonder.  The colours of the stone houses, the colours of the shutters on the stone houses, the villages after villages of stone houses scream bienvenue. The temperature has hovered in the mid to high 20’s.  We sat by the pool this morning at Nathalie’s AirBnB.  I sat under one of her olive trees when the sun was high.At noon we set out to visit several villages that I had lusted after touring since the first time I saw “A Good Year” with Russel Crowe several years ago.  For those who have seen the film you may remember his ancestral Chateau and the accompanying vineyard.  Well just after our first stop in Cucuron (google that) we arrived at that exact vineyard and it was exactly as we had seen in the movie.We were the only ones there and as such had to ring the door bell of the cave for the vintner to come from the barrels to open up his tasting room.  This young man had our undivided attention for 45 minutes of uninterrupted wine tasting and a plethora of information about the winery and the surrounding area.  This short yet so very enjoyable visit was sadly not long enough.  We left with a case of my favourites including two bottles of the Coin Perdu.  Three times more expensive than the other house wines but what are you gonna do.  With Hollywood fame comes its spoils. http://chateaulacanorgue.com/gb/gb/
From Chateau la Canorgue we drove North towards Gordes.  This town stands proud on the side of a mountain with a vista southwards back towards the villages I mentioned above as well as Lacoste.  You will see several photos I took of this and other villages in this page.  I was suitably impressed.  After several walks of discovery around these wonderful places, we took the recommendation of our new vintner friend and we headed for Lourmarin and a restaurant called Nonni’s.We were told to arrive at opening time or be damned to find a seat.  In very french fashion this place opens at 7:30 and is open until 10:30 6 days a week.  If you want to eat at Nonni’s have a reservation or have the luck of the Irish.  Luckily Angus has been drinking an ungodly amount of Guinness throughout our journey so maybe we have become Irish by osmosis.We arrived just before 7:30 and softly enquired about the possibility of a table.  There was no-one in there.  The young lady looked at us like we had three heads.  Have you a reservation? I replied “no”.  She walked away and returned soon to let us know she had one table available.  We jumped on it.  Once sat we ordered a drink and perused the menu.  Very reasonable prices and a good reputation with the locals, tres bien!I had the menu du jour and Angus had a wood fired pizza to which he remarked “I’m in love”. Hefty praise from this pizza inhaler.  My meal started with sardines on crostini with local greens and lots of fresh lemon wedges.  That was followed by spaghetti carbonara. So good and followed by Tiramisu.  What helped us from not quickly devouring this fabulous meal was the lovely couple in their late 60's who soon arrived and sat beside us.  They were spending there 16th fall in the area from Michigan.  They were both fluent french speakers and Very interesting.  Neither Buffy or Chip would have mixed well with these folks.  They asked us if we had room for them at home if Trump wins.  I said sure, what the hell they were nice.  We talked about living in France and lots about tennis for a couple of hours.Clearly this lifestyle is appealing to lots of people from lots of different countries.  It is no mystery, this place suits me down to the ground.  If you don't believe me do your own research, or better yet come and see for yourself.  On second thoughts don’t, I may not get that last minute table at Nonni’s if I encourage too many of you.Bonsoir!Mark
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One Should Winter in Monte Carlo.

Its been several days and hundreds of miles since the last time I had the time to collect my thoughts and recount some of the more memorable places and people we have seen and met.I write today from my sun chair on the patio of our Gite in the Luberon Valley.  The Luberon is an unbelievable wine growing region in the South of France.  I will speak more to this area and our accommodations in a blog I intend to write tonight.  Suffice to say that I have not felt this relaxed in a long long time.We landed back in Rome on Sunday afternoon and made our way to Thrifty Car Rental for our customary Italian 90 minute wait as the Thrifty employees tried to up-sell every one of the 30 Asian couples that got there ahead of us.  I don’t even think they knew what they were signing but many of them will be surprised to learn they have actually purchased their new rental car. When they leave to go home I wish them luck with fitting their new wheels into their wheelie luggage. It will be a challenge given the thousands of dollars worth of Fendi, Armani and Prada items they are soon to also power buy from reputable North African gentlemen.Once free of the mayhem, we walked to find our car and to our surprise and trepidation it was a “Blanco Fiat 500”.  I thought it was torture climbing in and out of the car we had in the UK.  Well it turns out that Anthony (our 500) was no such thing.  Sure small, but easy in and out and relatively peppy.  I mention peppy as those of you who have traveled on the highways and byways of Italy will know, the drivers are just a little aggressive.  It is kill or be killed.  No-one has patience and no-one stops for pedestrians.We got out on to the Autostrada heading north, as we had booked an AirBnB in Siena for the night.  Ninety minutes of hair raising F1 driving later and we were there in the ancient walled hill town that hosts the Palio horse race and is such a beautiful must not miss bucket list place.
We met Sylvia our host and got the 411 on all the things to do.  I had been here in the past so I was ready to get at it.  We walked straight to the Campo and took in its sights, smells and soon after sounds.  Just as we got orientated we could hear off in the distance the band and voices of a Contrada (neighbourhood group).They appeared from the north east with the flags up front, then the drums, then the male voices and then everyone else.  I don't know for sure but I assumed that this contrada won the Palio last and this was a celebration and bragging rights parade.  We sat in a Campo osteria and ordered a typical light supper consisting of bruschetta with a meat and cheese plate.  That was accompanied with pane de casa and two Peroni Rosso beers.Once done we made our way to the Duomo and I took my time to take a ton of photographs of the Cathedral in all its black and white marble splendour.  Then back to our place and early to rise.  On the road to Pisa and then on to San Remo.Pisa is something I had always given a miss in past trips as I thought it would be swarmed with tourists and not up to much.  Wrong on one account.  Yes it is swarming with tourists but on the contrary it is a site to see.  It is amazing to see up close.  It is not what I thought and I was very impressed by everything especially the lean.What I don't want to leave out is that we drove to a parking lot literally less than two minutes walk from the tower.  We paid one euro to park and the rest was free (the memories).  Go there.  See that!We left Pisa Northbound towards the Italian Riviera and the City of San Remo.  Busy, beautiful, manic, loud, crazy, traffic, hairy.  We got into our AirBnB & immediately went out to the supermarket to get a few things.  Had a quick look around the harbour and back to sleep.  A long day.  Actually I would never advise anyone to stop there now that I have been myself.  Give it a miss.We got up early and were on the upper corniche to Monaco.  Yes, now we are talking.  Order, clean, sophisticated and absolutely stunning in every way.  We parked in the centre of Monte Carlo and began our 4 hour trek from place to place which included all the hot spots.  I am sure Angus fancied himself James Bond for a few moments outside the Casino.  The opulence was unreal. Every luxury brand and every luxury / super car imaginable.It is so hot here in the South of France that eventually we had to stop for refreshments and believe it or not I broke the rule for the first of 2 consecutive times.  I never stop at any multi national chains when travelling.  I like the local mom and pop places that serve you right and you can make a personal bond with.Suffice to say that I have just been to the nicest Starbucks in the world.  Period!!!  It sits adjacent to the Fairmont hotel in a perfect position to gaze out to the Med or to watch the Grand Prix if you had your timing right.  Incredible experience and the prices were the same as home.  That, along with the next embarrassing moment I must divulge was also reasonable in price.Did you guess right? Have you ever found yourself in France or Belgium and thought to yourself, I want a Royal with Cheese?  Yep, it happened!  We walked into McDonalds and we had the meal deal.  This was also the most modern south facing McDonalds in the world.  Adorned with Picasso prints and the most modern furniture, not your average Mickey D's. With tray in hand, I sat near a Picasso in an Eames chair.  Gross with some gross on top, but good for the 10 minutes it was in my gob and yet to digest.From there it was back to find Anthony and on to an incredible highway that took us along the coast to Cannes, San Tropez and then inland through the vineyards and olive groves of Provence.  This it it ladies and gents.  Nirvana times ten.  A good hot with a chilled vibe.  I may not be at work next week.Until next time!Mark
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