Driving and parking the motorhome

A video of two of the more interesting roads we've driven on and of us parking the motorhome. We know you all have short attention spans so it's in fast motion.

Our map so far

A map of our path so far. We just tipped over 8,500 km.

View Europe - our path in a larger map

Ancient Rome

After our draining day at the Vatican, we expected to have an equally busy and frantic experience exploring Rome's ancient sites. Thankfully we were pleasantly surprised and had a stress free day in the old city.

With the transport system back to normal we easily made our way into the city and emerged at Colosseo Station. As the name suggests, we were close to the Colosseum and were shocked to see it towering right across the road from the station entrance. Talk about a great first impression! After a short and shady queue (although once again there were dozens of people offering deals where we could skip the queue) we had our tickets and audio guides and were ready to step back in time.

Everything about this stadium is fascinating. Built in 80BC the fact that it has survived for 2000 years speaks volumes about the Romans knowledge and perfection of construction. The architect, who to this day remains unknown, thought of everything, from tiered hierarchy seating, movable awnings to protect spectators from sun and rain, an elaborate system of pulleys and trap doors to move set pieces and a service ramp to quickly dispose of the deceased.

Although it is in a significant state of ruin, thanks to looting after it fell into disuse (some marble was even removed to build St Peter's Basilica) and the effect of two centuries of braving the weather, it is not difficult to fill in the pieces and imagine the stadium in all it's glory. In its hey day the stand was packed with a 40,000 to 70,000 strong crowd (it's capacity is still debated) ranging from the Emperor to the lowest servant, who were all there free of charge to be entertained. It played host to a range of events from Gladiator battles, where death was a high possibility, to live animal hunts, featuring lions, tigers and complicated sets. For the spectators, the more blood the better.

After a decent time spent wandering around and marvelling at this site we stepped out of our time capsule and back into reality to enjoy a typical Italian lunch across the road.

The afternoon that followed was one of the best times we have had in Italy, mainly because it involved just wandering around at our own pace and absorbing the best Rome has to offer.

We started with a stroll through the very dramatic and evocative ruins of the Palentino and the Roman Forum. The hot sun was beating down quite ferociously so we found a shady spot on the side of a hill to take it all in. Luckily there is not shortage of places to sit- fallen pillars, marble blocks and collapsed walls make for great seats. From here we could see no less than 4 ruined temples, what was left of the Roman Forum, ancient statue lined streets and the remnants of buildings.

We let our imagination take over, recreating the streets and buildings in our minds, which was quite easy thanks to Assassins Creed. This is quite surprising to hear me say, but at that moment I wished we had access to a PlayStation so we could scale the buildings, jump from roof to roof and kill some of those pesky Borgia Guards. What has Matt done to me?

After a quick tram ride and a brief walk we found ourselves in Piazza Navona, a shady square surrounded by bustling restaurants and filled with markets. We grabbed some gelato, found a seat and just absorbed our surroundings. It was remarkably relaxing.

Full of gelatoey goodness, we wound our way through the narrow streets and came face to face with the Pantheon and its unmistakable facade. You could walk right in without queueing and, thanks to it's circular interior, you could see everything by sitting in the one spot. It, like the Colosseum, was built over 2000 years ago, but is in perfect condition and is still used today, as it has been in constant use since being taken over by the Catholic Church. Its most eye catching feature is the domed roof with its uncovered oculus which lets in water when it rains and allows the sun the stream in on sunny days like the one we had.

Our next stop was the Trevi Fountain which dominates the square it is found in, making it impossible to capture it in one photo. It is already a small place but the hundreds of people who were packed into the place made for a very claustrophobic experience. Grabbing a coin each, Matt and I threw them into the fountain, an act (if legend is to be believed) which means we will return to Rome one day. The money is collected every day and given to charity.

Our final destination for the day was the Spanish Steps. The sun was setting, lighting the city on fire, and Matt blinded himself taking photos of the the city's skyline and St Peter's Basilica. It was the perfect end to a wonderful day, though Matt's eyes would disagree.

Sent from my iPad

Vatican City

Vatican City is a deceptively large place. The world's smallest country takes a lot more effort to visit than its 0.44 km 2 area indicates.

Rome, however is deceptively small. The former capital of the western world is not a sprawling megalopolis, but a quaint town of 3 million people. Surprisingly, it’s significantly dwarfed by London, Paris, Barcelona and even Milan to the North. Subsequently, it has only two metro lines, neither of which run particularly close to the Vatican or our campsite.

So we set off to catch the bus (a bad move). Anticipating a light walking day, Rachel wore strappy sandals and I wore jeans (two bad moves). Italy is notorious for strikes, and it was the Roman transport industry’s turn, so catching the bus was made more complicated. (I’m writing this in Florence, where there is another transport strike today)

This strike was not a complete system shutdown, but meant that the buses would be running much less frequently. Fortunately our bus arrived promptly, and we caught it to Cipro-Musei Vaticani station. This name is a bit of a misnomer because the station is over a kilometre away from the Museum.

Once we arrived at the city walls (we weren’t sure where we were going so we followed a German tour group) we discovered that there was no way of crossing the city inside the walls, and the only way to get our museum tickets from the ticket office near St. Peter’s Square was to walk half-way around the star-shaped perimeter of the city.

Lonely Planet had warned us to watch out for pickpockets and fake tour guides offering to help us “cut the queue” around the Vatican and Colosseum, and it was a sound warning. Lots of people with strong American accents were very keen to help us jump the long queue. As we’d already paid for our tickets at the campsite, it was easy to avoid the temptation.

After a walk of over a kilometre we arrived at St Peter’s Square. It was astonishing. While it was smaller than I expected from seeing it on TV and in movies, it seemed quiet and empty. It’s probably the only square on the Italian peninsular without any shops, apartments or street vendors on the sides, just Bernini’s columns on each side, two fountains, an obelisk and the enormous St Peter’s Basilica towering above. This gives you the impression that you’re almost alone in the square. It’s very peaceful. The only thing that hints at how many people can fit in the square was thousands of chairs still set up for the previous day’s Papal message. Every Sunday at noon, Pope Benedict XVI gives a message in the square. From the amount of chairs still set out (a group of men were cleaning them up as we watched) I’m guessing the message is pretty popular.

After a moment in the square, we crossed the border back into Italy to the ticket office.

At 11am sharp we followed a lady from the ticket office in a group of around 50 people for a kilometre back to the museum entrance. The large group and the population of street vendors on the way meant that we got to the entrance at 11:30. By this stage our feet already hurt. (Damn those strappy sandals)

Inside the foyer of the museum it was pandemonium. Tour groups were so packed in that they were overlapping, so many people were trying to bustle through the ticket gates that you couldn't see them, and so many people were pushing onto the single escalator that it broke.

After walking up a 4 story wheelchair ramp (the escalator was closed by the time we got to it), we had arrived.

The organisation of the Vatican City is such that one of the major draw cards, the Sistine Chapel, is not part of the Basilica but part of the museum. Subsequently, anybody who wants to see the Chapel has to go through the museum first. The Chapel is almost the last thing before the exit.

I think the best way to describe the Vatican Museum is to point out that it occupies a quarter of a country. It’s huge. It’s probably the largest collection of unlabelled sculptures, tapestries and frescoes in the world. The audio guide is adequate, but the map provided is not. This means that you’re often left listening to an audio commentary on a room that you can’t find.

Lonely Planet has a suggested itinerary for the museum, but in practice there seems to be little choice as to which way you go. The layout is essentially a series of long corridors that you go through in succession to get to the Sistine Chapel. Subsequently, any time you stop to admire an artwork, you’re almost stampeded by a tour group headed straight for the main attraction. There’s nowhere to sit or eat for most of the museum, and nowhere to go to the bathroom until the very end.

Three hours later, tired, grumpy and sore, we were at the door of the Sistine Chapel.

The Chapel is indescribable, but I’ll try anyway. The floorspace (poor thing, nobody ever talks about the floor of the Sistine Chapel) is about as wide as a basketball court and a little longer than one. The structure is more like a large barn than a church, and the light is dim, due to the small windows. The building is relatively bland, really, as you can see when you look at it from the outside, so it’s no surprise that the Pope was keen on having it decorated.

I imagine the moment that the Pope asked Michelangelo to paint the ceiling was a lot like the moment Antoni Gaudi was hired to design the Sagrada Familiar in Barcelona - he had no idea what he was getting himself in for.

Michelangelo worked for many years, primarily on his own, to paint the Pope’s Chapel (as it’s sometimes known). The Pope must have found it quite frustrating to come down there for a quiet prayer and find it full of scaffolding with Michelangelo clambering around up the top.

It’s strange to look up at some of the world’s most recognisable artworks all on the same surface. The ‘Creation of Adam’ is the centrepiece of Michelangelo’s miraculous comic strip detailing the Book of Genesis, from the creation of the earth to the great flood and Noah’s Ark via the Garden of Eden and the Original Sin.

Years after finishing the ceiling, Michelangelo returned to paint ‘The Last Judgement’ above the altar. In the process he blocked up several windows and painted over other people’s paintings. It’s probably the most beautiful, intricate and terrifying image I’ve ever seen. It depicts Christ (with a body very similar to Adam in ‘Creation of Adam’, drawing the righteous up to heaven with one hand and casting the sinners down to hell with the other. Michelangelo included a self portrait in this image, as the flayed skin of a dead man on the way to hell. He had some issues methinks…

The room was full. It’s hard to estimate how many people were in there, because it was difficult to move, but it was certainly far more than the three guards left there to keep the peace could handle. A sign on the door demands silence and no photos, but neither instruction was being followed. Everyone (including us) was taking photos, and talking as loud as they wanted. At one point, one of the guards, sick of shushing everyone, decided to start a kindergarten-teacher-style clap pattern to shut the crowd up. I was very tempted to repeat his pattern after a beat, but restrained myself.

We stayed a while, but not nearly long enough to look at the detail of either the ceiling or ‘The Last Judgement’. Perhaps we’ll be back some day, and the crowd will be smaller, and we’ll be wearing better shoes. It’s also not easy looking up at the ceiling for any long period of time. Rachel’s solution is for everyone to have a nice lie down and look at the ceiling. We left the museum at 3:30pm after resisting the urge to pick up a Pope action figure in the gift shop.

We were keen on climbing St Peter’s Basilica dome, which shuts at 5pm in October, so we trudged as fast as we could, once again, outside the city walls, to St Peter’s Square.

The Square was bathed in mid-afternoon light, which streamed through the fountains and made the water splashing down the tiers look like crystals. It was entrancing, and a beautiful sight as we made our way through Basilica security (I think they were checking for antimatter).

Inside the Basilica, we joined another queue for the dome. By this time our feet were aching (damn cobblestones), and the hot Roman sun was making me seriously regret wearing heavy jeans. The queue was 40 minutes long. There were no chairs to sit on, or even hand rails to lean on. At 4:45, we caught the lift to the base of the dome, and made our way up the 320 steps to the top.

Climbing a dome is rather an odd experience. The walls of the stairway gradually get more and more curved until you realise you have to use your hands to keep yourself from falling against the inside wall.

At the summit, we saw Rome. European cities are very different to Australian or American ones. While we equate a big capital city with skyscrapers and neon signs, European cities are much flatter. St Peter’s Basilica towers above all the buildings around it, and the only buildings you can’t see over are the ones on hills. It’s the same in London, Paris, and Barcelona. While from the Empire State Building it’s hard to see Central Park, from St Peter’s you can see the Colosseum, the domes of all the city’s churches and sprawling parkland on almost all sides.

While we were up there, I’m pretty sure I saw Bill Gates. He was speaking German the whole time I was stalking him, and using an iPhone, but I’m pretty sure it was just an elaborate disguise.

We climbed back down the dome and into the Basilica. It’s a lot like the museum. Enormous and impressive, but with nowhere to sit. To give you an idea of the size of the world’s second largest church, there was a mass going on with several hundred people in the congregation - and they were hard to find in amongst the cavernous chapels and transepts. If not for the singing, it’s possible you wouldn’t notice they were there. The church can seat 60,000 people.

Tired, sore and desperate for a sit down, we left the church at 6pm and headed back to the spot where we got off the bus. We crossed the road, hoping to get catch it in the opposite direction, and couldn't find the bus stop. Once we found a bus stop, we discovered that our bus didn’t stop there. This is one of the many disadvantages of buses when compared to trams or trains… train lines, tram tracks and overhead power lines are rather easier to find than a tiny number on a sign.

An hour later we were sitting on the ground under a bridge 2 kilometres away from where we got off the bus that morning next to a bus stop sign with the right number on it, but of course it was a transport strike, and the buses weren’t running to their normal schedule.

It was at this point we decided we were staying in proper countries from now on.

A hazy lake and a leaning tower

Our first experience of an Italian road, other than the motorway, was on Thursday on the winding narrow path that follows the western shore of Lake Como. Calling it a path is even generous. It is such a crazy drive that it is the location for the opening scene of Quantum of Solace where James Bond is involved in a thrilling car chase. We often had to stop or reverse to allow an oncoming car to pass and were stuck for quite some time behind a large truck while a few other oncoming trucks squeezed past us. Unlike Bond's Aston Martin, our trusty van remained unscathed.

Lake Como is shaped like an upside down Y and its shores are dotted with villages. We chose Domaso, a town near the very top, as our resting spot for the night. While Lonely Planet describes the lake as a must see for its natural beauty, a walk along the foreshore left us a little disappointed. The bright sun washed everything out and the mountains, which should have been visible rising steeply around the lake, were obscured by a thick white haze.

The next morning we drove down the eastern side of the lake which was a much more pleasant trip, thanks to the dual carriageway. It was a big day of driving and after passing through Milan and Genova we were once again traveling along the Mediterranean. We pulled off at Pisa and headed straight to the coast and a new Aire (called Aree de Sostas in Italy) at Marina di Pisa.

Although it was 5pm it was still quite hot so, after going through the routine of setting up our home for the night (which we can now practically do with our eyes closed) we jumped on our bikes and rode to the beach for our first swim in the refreshing waters of the Mediterranean. The setting sun cast a gold and pink glow over the steep white stone beach and although picture perfect, proved very difficult to walk on with bare feet. We shuffled our way, one painful step at a time, into the sea. Time seemed to stop still.

The next morning we got away early and were standing in Piazza del Duomo in Pisa by 10am. In front of us loomed three large structures- the Cathedral, the Baptistery and the Tower. Pisa would be a very different place if this third structure didn't exist and the buzzing crowd around us would be virtually non-existent. I am of course referring to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. And boy is the name apt!

It was a glorious day for a visit. The three white pieces of architectural beauty were enhanced by the vivid blue cloudless sky and the sparkling green grass and seemed to leap out at you no matter what angle you looked at them from. Everywhere around us people were positioning themselves for the classic "holding up the tower" photo. Not wanting to be an outcast I joined in. Matt on the other hand had his photo taken pushing it down. He always was a bit of a rebel.

From here we had another big drive down the coast to Rome, taking a few sightseeing detours along the way. Although not far away from Pisa, we decided we'll see Florence on the way back up to break up the drive to Venice.

So here we are in Rome at a great and huge campsite on one of the main roads into the city- Via Aurelia. This place also is kind of like a hostel and has heaps of dormitories on the other side of the park. Needless to say the place is packed with young Aussies, Germans and school groups. The campsite also has great facilities such as a pool, supermarket, restaurant, bar, club (for all those cool kids out there), an information desk selling tickets to everything and providing advice, free and frustrating wifi and a bus stop into town right at the gate.

On Sunday we had a rest day after a few big days of driving and just hung around the campsite swimming, catching up on news back home and reading up on the truckload of things to do in Rome. The saying is quite stupid really. Rome couldn't possibly have been built in one day. To suggest otherwise is ludicrous.

Switzerland in 5 days

Our experience of Switzerland, a small country of 7.8 million people, is of towering mountains, serene lakes mountains and scenic views. We also found it incredibly, incredibly expensive so we limited our stay to 5 days. It is ranked the third most expensive country to live in in the world and third best for quality of life. Apparently money does buy you happiness here.

As it is not a member of the EU, its currency is the Swiss Franc although everywhere we have been, including a restaurant, camp ground and camping supply store, have taken our Euros meaning we didn't even need to withdraw any local currency.

After spending Saturday night in a campsite right on Lake Geneva, on Sunday we parked our car by the lake 4km from the city, hopped on our bikes and rode along the (flat!) bike track around the lake, past parkland and marinas, towards the city.

On the way we passed the Geneva Fountain, which shoots water at a speed of 200km/hr 135m into the air. At any one time there is 7000L of water in the air. It originally operated to release pressure from the hydroelectric dam but now it is purely decorative.

We made it to the city centre and, much to our surprise, it was completely dead and deserted. All the shops (soooooooooooo many watch shops), including many restaurants, were closed. Not even souvenir shops or a corner store were open. Apparently nothing happens in Geneva on a Sunday. It did however make for great cycling conditions and we could easily ride around on the main roads and tram tracks and over bridges with no worries, only having to stop for cars on a few occasions. After a good cycling tour of this strange city we made our way back round the lake to our campsite and enjoyed an afternoon of ping pong and relaxing in chairs by the water as the sun set.

The next morning, Monday, we set out on a mission to majorly stock up on food. We had tried the day before but even the supermarkets were closed on the Sunday. None of the shops we came across could accommodate our van to park and, before we knew it, we were crossing the border back into France. Here we were spoilt for choice and we chose a large Carrefour to stock up on supplies. Upon entering Switzerland again border control asked where we'd come from. "We were in Geneva this morning but just drove to France to shop..." I casually stated.

We skirted around the northern side of the lake and settled down late in the afternoon at a delightful Aire in St Leonards, a quaint town situated in the Rhone Valley between Sierre and Sion. Nestled between houses this spot had everything we could hope for: shady trees, electricity, toilets, a beautiful picnic area for us to enjoy happy hour and a first class view of the vine covered steep mountains.

St Leonards is also home to Europe's largest underground lake, Lac Souterrain, and on Tuesday morning we walked the 100m to the entrance and took a half hour boat ride into the dark depths of the cave. The guide amazingly gave the tour in French, German and English and would have happily have added Italian if required. The lake was only discovered relatively recently when a not uncommon earthquake (they have 4 or 5 a week in Switzerland under 2.5 on the richter scale) opened up the entrance. The main message of the tour was to "think about the water" and the impact that climate change is having on the glaciers and the environment in Switzerland. Switzerland itself has reduced it's impact on the Earth and is run by 60% water power and 40% nuclear power and operates trams and electric trolley buses in it's largest cities.

The rest of the day saw us continue up the Rhone Valley as we headed to Luzern. We had opted for the scenic route, as opposed to the motorways and tunnels that plough through the mountains, and wound our way through some spectacular scenery. This was a motorbikers heaven and streams of them would zip past us as we zigzagged up and down the sides of mountains, often right on the edge with little or no barrier. Matt's driving was superb! Alpine villages were dotted along the route and the air rang with the ding donging of the cow bells as they munched away on the grass.

Soon enough, after several stops to take in the view along the way, we found ourself following the shore of Lake Luzern as we made our way to the city. Matt was keen to visit as Nanna often talks about how much she enjoyed her time in Luzern when she was there many years ago. We settled into a campsite on the lake and stayed for two nights.

On Wednesday Matt and I split up for the very first time on our trip. I stayed back at the campsite to read and take it easy as I wasn't feeling 100% and Matt, after much insisting by me that I would be fine on my own, went to the Switzerland Transport Museum next to the campsite. He came back with a huge grin on his face and immediately began retelling what he had seen, with accompanying photos and videos of course. Matt's going to write about his visit but hasn't yet so he'll add it here later.

That afternoon Matt and I hopped on our bikes and rode, once again, around a flat lake to the city. There we visited the Dying Lion of Luzern, walked across the flower covered Chapel Bridge, wandered down the cobbled streets of the old city and watched life pass us by in a cafe by the river. We've noticed that the mountains and lakes are rather hazy, especially in Switzerland, so sadly the mountains surrounding Lake Luzern were mostly invisible.

Thursday morning we set off and travelled south towards Italy. Crossing even the smallest part of Switzerland involves crossing mountains however this time we opted for the easy way out, using motorways and an epic 19km tunnel to spit us out on the other side. Before we knew it we were at border control. Cars everywhere in their lanes were being stopped and questioned but, as no one approached us in our special motorhome lane, we continued driving, hoping no sirens would follow us.

So now we are in Italy: the land of crazy drivers and food Rachel can't eat.

Rachel's 24th Birthday in the Alps

On Saturday we woke up to a chilly 4 degree morning in Chamonix. Certainly different to the warm days we'd been enjoying on the Mediterranean. I stared out the window for quite a while, still not being able to quite comprehend the amazing view of the Alps. It was my birthday and Matt had wonderfully organised to video chat with my family, courtesy of the free wifi at the campsite. It was wonderful to see them all and hear a classic Aspinall happy birthday... 3 times. We also chatted to the Bevans and enjoyed hearing about Joey's last week of school ever. It's so crazy that she only has exams left!

We headed into the centre of town and enjoyed a brunch, partly to celebrate my birthday and partly because we had run out of food. As my birthday treat we then headed up Aiguille du Midi. I strongly suggest that what we did next should not be attempted on a full stomach, particularly straight after a rather delicious and filling brunch. It will come back to hurt you.

The Aiguille du Midi is a 3,832 meter high mountain in the Mont Blanc massif in the French Alps and towers over Chamonix. We caught the cable car, the Téléphérique de l'Aiguille du Midi, to the summit. Built in 1955, it held the title of the world's highest cable car for about two decades. It still holds the record as the highest vertical ascent cable car in the world, rising in two stages from 1,035 m to 3,842 m (a gain of 2800m) in only 20 minutes.

The first section is from Chamonix to Plan de l'Aiguille at 2,317 m. We were squashed into a box with tourists, mountaineers, paragliders and adventurers hiking to the top of Mont Blanc and started our ascent. We rose steeply and quickly, rushing over the pillar supports which made you think you had left your stomach at the bottom. We were rugged up with thermals, thanks to the 2 degree temperature at the top, but I quickly needed to strip off the layers as the motion was making me quite flushed. And we were only half way!

At the middle you change cable cars and continue your journey up. The second section rises directly, without any support pillar, to the upper station at 3,777 m. The span of the second section is 2,867 m long and you gain a height of 1460m. This, in basic terms, means it is very very very steep. And with no support pillars to go over it feels like you're flying - in a tiny box squashed in with 30 other people.

We watched as the mountain in front of us rose before our eyes. Thankfully it wasn't quite as crowded as a few people had got off at the middle stop. Nevertheless, I was still feeling a little hot and realized I was taking in big gulps of air.

We made it to the top of the cable car and the effect of stepping off was quite surprising. My legs were like jelly, my head was spinning and I felt nauseas. Matt was feeling exactly the same and we were both struggling to breathe a little. You have to remember that we had just risen 2,800 m in a very short amount of time and the air was noticeably thin. Due to the limited oxygen at this height, those climbing Mont Blanc have to stay over night at this level to acclimatise before they attempt the 1000m climb to the summit the next day. Failure to do so will almost certainly result in altitude sickness, even for the most experienced hikers.

We weren't quite at the summit yet but thought we would check out this level before going to the top. Once I cooled down I noticed that it was freezing so I piled on all my layers again which included thermals under my jeans and shirt, a wool jumper, a vest, a jacket, beanie and gloves. The bright sun however was nicely keeping the temperature just above above zero.

This was in fact the highest Matt or I have ever been on land. My highest previously was what we call a mountain in Australia, Mt Kosciusko at 2228m. Luckily the view is much more impressive, and was enough to keep us distracted from our jubbly tummies.

All around us, as far as the eye could see, were sharp, jagged, rocky mountain peaks covered partially in snow. Rising surprisingly close to us was Mont Blanc itself, Europe's highest mountain. It differed from all the other summits as it was perfectly dome shaped and covered entirely in smooth white snow.

There were lots of adventurers out and about and we could see a trail of people attempting to climb the steep north face of Mont Blanc, tents pitched in the snow in a plateau just below us, paragliders sailing over the glaciers and mountain climbers scaling the Aiguille Needles.

After about an hour of this level we felt ready to go further. We squished ourselves into a lift which took us the remaining meters to the summit at 3842m. And when we say we were at the summit, we mean it. The lift delivered us onto a viewing platform perched on the very top, providing 360 degree views. It was simply spectacular and a very special place to visit on my birthday.

We headed back down to the base and spent a little time recovering from the trip in our van while we planned what was next. We got a little sun kissed on our faces thanks to the glare off the snow. Funny how it happened here and not while we were spending time in the sun swimming in Spain.

Feeling better we hit the road and drove to Switzerland, camping right next to Lake Geneva about 6km north of the centre of Geneva in the suburb of Versanz. Our stomachs were a little tender that night but it was totally worth it for the amazing time we had.

The French Riviera and Monaco

From Montpellier, we headed around the coast and picked a campsite in Antibes to spend two nights in order to explore Monaco and Nice. To be honest, we didn't really have that much of a choice as there are strangely no Aires in the entire region and not many caravan parks.

That meant that on Thursday we had to train it along the coast into Monaco. This trip was right along the Mediterranean, past beautiful beaches and along cliff tops. The train was an odd combination of tourists donning sandals and cameras and business men wearing suits and too much aftershave (the first indication that Monaco is a country with money). We in fact witnessed 2 groups of English business men who were seated in the same booth (in first class of course, not like us plebs), introduce themselves, casually discuss what they do, exchange stories about traveling overseas, agree to meet up for drinks and swap business cards. Any chance to network I guess.

Our first experience of Monaco was the underground train station, located along the northern border. It resembles more of a fancy airport (the second indication that Monaco is a rich man's paradise) and after several travelators we emerged into the Mediterranean sun on the coast... on the other side of the country. At 2 km squared and a population density of 15,000 people per km squared, Monaco is the second smallest country in the world after the Vatican.

After heading onto the street and looking around we quickly realised why there were no places to stay nearby- built on the side of steep mountain, Monaco is almost vertical, with each street parallel to the coast much than the next. The best way to get from one street to the next in particularly steep places is using their public transport system - 7 internal lifts that scale the mountain in various places. There's nothing peculiar about them - you simply walk into a building, get into a normal lift, pick the street you want and vwa la!

The Monaco Yacht Show was on while we were there meaning the marina was full of expensive, HUGE yachts and the restaurants full of swanky people in suits who reeked of money (the third indication. I should probably stop counting - you get the idea).

After lunch and a spot of wandering the streets and lift hopping, we made our way to Monaco's most well know building - the Monte Carlo Casino. Set on a cliff over looking the water at the end of Princess Grace Avenue, it is quite an impressive building. Just like in James Bond, to enter the private gambling rooms you must be wearing a suit and a suit is compulsory for all patrons after 8pm. Matt and I have never been into a casino so we paid our €10 entry fee each. Unfortunately we had forgotten to suit up that day so were restricted to the 2 public rooms. These in themselves were spectacular with high painted ceilings, wood paneled walls, ornate chandeliers and everything decorated with gold, although they were much smaller than expected. The first room contained the gaming tables with all the dealers wearing suits and bow ties. We stood around behind the players with the crowds watching games of black jack and roulette where brave men (yes, they were all men) squandered their money as the minimum bet for each round is €25. No such thing as a €5 chip here. The games move so fast it is almost impossible to follow. At the blackjack table the dealer would quickly go around saying the number each hand was worth but would say it in French for those who spoke French and in English for the foreigners. Sometimes he had 5 people with alternating languages and never faulted. By the time he was finished I was still adding up the first hand to see what it was worth.

Keen to have a go ourselves we moved into the second room which is full of pokies. This was more our style and would require no interaction, knowledge of the game or people watching over our shoulder. We played blackjack, betting €5 (the minimum as you can't insert coins) and not surprisingly lost it all. We played a different game second and, after inserting €5, won €20 so decided to call it quits. All in all we only lost €10. €20 for entry, €10 for playing and a €20 win. Not too bad I suppose.

We caught the train back out of Monaco and decided to stop off at Nice for a look around. It was nice. We caught the tram down the main street (we know how Matt loves his trams) and hopped off at the beach. We spent our winnings on cocktails at a bar right on the sand. And by sand I actually mean pebbles. There was no sand in sight and we watched swimmers, wearing sandals, hobble across the pebbles and into the cool turquoise water and sun bathers attempt to look comfortable as they lay painfully on their towels. Those more sophisticated beach goers had paid €14 to have a sun bed, umbrella and service from the bar. The beach nearly had more boobies than the Moulin Rouge with young and oldies alike bearing all to get some sun.

The next day, after having had enough of the coast, we headed towards the French Alps, via Italy of course. This was one of our most amazing drives yet. The roads plough through the mountains and for over 60kms it was continuously a bridge over a valley and then a tunnel through a mountain, over and over again. We never drove on normal ground. After a few hours in Italy we made it back to the Italy/French border and drove through the 11km tunnel under Mont Blanc. The day cost us €90 in tolls but after witnessing the engineering and effort involved, we happily paid.

We settled down for the night in Chamonix, home of the first winter Olympics, with a view of snow capped mountains from our windows.

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Vilanova Park and Barcelona

Saturday and Sunday we spent within the confines of the cosy Vilanova Park bubble. We swam in the pool, relaxed on deck chairs, played ping pong, ate all our meals outside, sipped Sangria on the restaurant deck, read books and more or less lazed about. I was so relaxed I didn't even need a massage from the wellness centre. The whole place itself is a wellness centre. 

It's amazing how cheap this place is for what you get. The grounds are beautifully kept, the pool area is equipped with a lifeguard and would rival that of a 5 star resort and there are heaps of things to keep you busy. I tried out the salsa class on Sunday morning and had a ball. There were quite a few people there and an impressive number of guys ranging from boys with their families, young guys with their girlfriends and older men with their wives. Although in Spanish, I could easily understand universal words such as samba, rumba, mambo and cha cha, and eventually worked out key phrases such as double time, turn and freeze. Soon enough I had worked up quite a sweat, despite standing in the shade of a tree, and had a much needed swim to cool off.

On Monday we headed into Barcelona to see the sights. As we planned to have only this one day in the city we wanted to make the most of it. After a noisy bus ride to Vilanova train station (the ticket machine was broken and continuously made a high pitched beeping sound) and a pleasant train trip alarmingly close to the coast we were in the centre. 

For the first time yet, we purchased tickets for a sightseeing tour on one of the double decker buses with the open roof. We sat at the top with sunnies, hats and long sleeved shirts with the collars up. Oh so cool. It was a great to get around town and see the city as opposed to traveling to each destination underground via the metro. Plus it had audio commentary in English to point out the sites.

Barcelona, geographically speaking, is a very interesting city. It is bound on one side by the Mediterranean and is completely enclosed by a rim of mountains on the other. This has limited its ability to spread out but the wider metropolitan area still houses over 5 million people. 

Barcelona has undergone a monumental transformation in recent decades and is now a vibrant place to work and live. We wound our way along gorgeous tree lined avenues, past very interestingly designed buildings and through some very popular shopping districts. The 1992 Barcelona Olympic Games really aided the city's development and the old industrial area south of city was completely redesigned to accommodate the games, including several new man made beaches. We drove right past the modest Olympic Stadium which is set on the side of a mountain and surrounded by lush parkland. 

We hopped off near here and had a lunch of Paella and Sangria with a spectacular view of the city, beaches and port. Being quite high up, we caught a cable car down to the beach and walked along Baceloneta Beach, voted the worlds best urban beach and the third best beach in the world by National Geographic. Although it didn't seem like anything special to us. We then popped back on the bus and headed back through the city. 

Our next stop off was the Sagrada Familia, the city's newest Basilica and the international symbol of Barcelona. We had seen it dominating the landscape from where we ate lunch and couldn't wait to inspect it close up. Designed by innovative Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi, the church is unlike any other place of worship and cannot fail to inspire and amaze you. What you're about to read is quite an epic description, but I can't help myself. It was such a special place. 

Construction started in 1882 and today, after 129 years of work, the church is roughly 60% complete. It has taken this long for two reasons- firstly, construction is funded entirely by donations (not by the Catholic Church or the city of Barcelona) and so the speed of construction is dictated by the amount of money available. Secondly, the church is so complex in design that it is very time consuming to construct. If the same methods used in the 1800s were used to build the church, it would take several centuries years to complete. Luckily, with the use of computer technologies, the process has been dramatically sped up and the aim is to complete the Basilica by 2026, the centenary of Gaudi's death. 

The finished product will have 18 towers - 12 dedicated to the apostles, 4 for the evangelists, 1 for Mary and, at the centre and rising to a height of 170 meters, one for Jesus. There are presently only 8 towers and this in itself is an amazing sight. The roof was recently finished and the church only officially became a church in November last year after a consecration by the Pope. 6500 people were present inside the church for the occasion (although it can actually fit 9000 people including a 1000 strong choir) and there were 50,000 people who celebrated in the streets. Those outside were served communion by 100 bishops and 300 priests!

There are so many things about this church that make it truly unique and unlike anything we saw in the UK or Paris. It certainly takes the concept of a church to a new level.

There are three very different facades. The first, called The Nativity, represents the birth and childhood of Christ. It is the only facade Gaudi lived to see. The second, The Passion, tells the story of the last days of Christ. It is starkly contrasted to The Nativity, and the current architect has interpreted Gaudi's instructions accurately but has left his own distinct artistic impression. Both of these are so detailed and so brilliant that it is impossible to describe them. The audio guide (which was the best so far and highly recommended) did a magnificent job of explaining each section of the facade and left no symbol, sculptor or shape unexplained. The third facade, The Glory, has barely begun to take shape. As yet only the bronze door exists with the Lord's Prayer written in Catalan and the phrase "give us this day our daily bread" written in 50 languages. 

The inside of the church takes your breath away. Gaudi was inspired by nature and has used features of the natural world in his design. The columns throughout the church resemble trunks, the structures supporting the roof branches and the ceiling is decorated with patterns of leaves. It feels like you are standing in a great forest under a tall canopy. You'd have to stand there to understand the true effect. 

Gaudi has also paid great attention to the light. He aimed to achieve 'harmonious light' which was neither too dark nor too light for a place of worship. The effect is amazing. Several of the stained glass windows have already been installed and the light passes through them in such a way that it casts all the colours onto the walls and columns inside. It is light and fresh and full of colour. 

You may balk at how little time we spent in Spain, but the trip down was worth it just to see this place. Matt and I have vowed to come back when it's finished, and to see Spain properly of course. 

Anyway, that was our four days in Spain. On Tuesday we lazed about some more at the pool, went for a short bike ride and took our time checking out, leaving Vilanova at 3pm. A few hours driving saw us back in France and staying at an Aire on the Mediterranean in Palavas-les-Flots near Montpellier. Our plan for the next few days is to travel along the coast to Monaco and then head up the France/Italy border and into Switzerland. And somewhere in the next few days I will turn 24 :)

Complications in Cahors, serenity in Spain

After our third night in Luzech in France we encountered a small problem - our water pump which provides water to the kitchen, shower and toilet decided not to work. We did not let this worry us and set about getting things fixed. Finally, after some wonderful help from Paul back in Australia, we were able to contact McRent in Germany and find out what to do.

Luckily there was help close by in Cahors and we found a very friendly assistant in a caravan shop. Matt braved asking for help- "Bonjour. Je voudrais Camping Car reparen?" I tried not to giggle at Matt's use of a made up word instead of 'reparations' like we'd practiced in the car. The assistant kindly replied "perhaps in English" ... in English. Somehow they can always tell.

She was our lifesaver. She identified the problem and got one of the mechanics to install a new pump. All we need to do is take the faulty pump and receipt back with us to be reimbursed the €55.

It did however take all day to get things sorted, so we changed our itinerary and headed back into Luzech for one of best happy hours yet. While waiting for our car to get fixed we popped into the supermarket and bought some local wine, cheese and grapes. I didn't know grapes could taste so good! They were still covered in dirt from straight off the farm and tasted like heaven. No wonder the wine tasted so good too!

The next morning we packed up our van and drove to Spain. I love how easy it is to say that in Europe. We stayed on motorways the whole way (130km/hr in France and, normally 120km/hr in Spain, although they are widening the motorway from France into Barcelona so it was 80 or 100 a lot of the time and down to 40 in some parts) but it still took over 7 hours to get there with breaks for lunch, rest stops and to change drivers and an Internet stop to research where we were going to stay.

We settled on Vilanova Park which is a GIANT holiday park with hundreds of cabins, tents, caravans and motorhomes. I've never seen something so big. It's 45km south of Barcelona on the outskirts of Vilanova but, for reasons unknown, is the biggest and best place to stay. Aires seem to be non-existent around cities as do closer caravan parks.

It's basically like a mini town.They have buses directly into Barcelona from reception or you can catch a bus to the nearest train station and head in that way. It has two huge pools (on opposite sides of the park) with dozens of sun beds (and thankfully shade), courts for playing tennis, basketball and football and places to play French boules and ping pong, a restaurant (bring on the Paela), supermarket, wifi, a great toilet and shower block (although strangely the toilet paper isn't in the cubicles but on rolls in the toilet foyer you get before you go in), a games room and my favorite - a wellness centre with indoor pool, gym, massages (book me in!) and a spa. There's a daily schedule of things happening at the main stage including zumba/salsa classes outside by the pool (I'm going tomorrow and will be the one slathered in sunscreen wearing a hat), mini discos every night at 9 for the kids and a 'Summer Dance Party' starting at 10 for the adults. It sounds like a scene out of a movie like Dirty Dancing or Forgetting Sarah Marshall doesn't it.

We've booked in for 4 nights but are already tempted to add more. Who knows, we might never leave!

Roaming through France

The next part of our journey sees us wind through the Atlantic and Midi-Pyrenees regions of France. There are no big sights to see in this area, no must visit museums and no famous icons. Here it is all about taking things slowly and savoring the simple things.

After our short stay in Niort we headed for Bordeaux and after a brief stop there for lunch, made our way to the coast. Instead of sightseeing we headed straight to the Aire to have a quiet afternoon of lazing about.

The ticket machine at the Aire we had chosen near Lacanau would not accept any of our cards and there was, annoyingly, no cash option. I did however fish a stuck piece of paper out of the machine and realised it was the voucher for two nights stay bought 2 hours earlier at a pricey €11 a night. Obviously the previous user hadn't taken it and, as it contained the access code to the boom gate, they must have left without entering. We hesitated for a while and even drove off in search of somewhere else however found no where adequate to stay. Not wanting to see a paid night's accommodation go to waste and seeing as we couldn't pay ourselves, we headed back, punched in the number and to our delight, the boom gate opened. We're hoping nothing comes back to bite us for that one...

The vegetation in this area is drastically different to anything we've seen yet and reminds me a lot of the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. Sandy roads, pine forests everywhere, blue sky and a hot sun. We had a relaxing afternoon reading, napping and watching a movie. No blog writing, photo sorting or trip planning in sight.

The next morning we awoke fresh and ready for a new day. It's amazing how much a short break can revitalise you. We made our way around the Arcachon Basin past farmsteads and towns with the cutest little houses and ended up at Dune de Pilat, Europe's largest sand dune. Moving at 4.5 meters inland a year it is 3kms long and has already swallowed a road junction, hotel and large parts of a protected forest.

We donned suncreen, hats and sunglasses and set off to climb to the top of it's peak which is a massive 114m above sea level. Quite an amazing sight right next to the ocean. The first section up is aided by 200 stairs but the rest is a tough climb on very soft and dry sand. The view from the top is spectacular. On one side is the magnificent blue of the Atlantic Ocean and the sandy shoals at the mouth of the Arcachon Basin. On the other side, the deepest darkest green of the pine forest. In between there is the sparkling of tonnes and tonnes of golden sand. We sat at the top for quite a while taking it all in.

Heading down is quite different with no stairs to assist you. Instead you practically ski down with your feet completely disappearing with each step as they get swallowed by the sand. At the bottom we enjoyed icees, browsing through the shops and emptying our shoes. The tourists sure would do a fair bit to slow the dune with the amount of sand that came out of our shoes!

It was 5pm but we decided to head on to our planned destination in Luzech. This is a magnificent time to travel, especially in this region. Between 6 and 8 the setting sun casts a golden glow across the countryside which is a wonderful sight while driving past corn fields, vineyards and sunflower fields. And it isn't dark till after 9.

Luzech is a little town near Cahors, right on the Lot River. This magnificent watercourse winds its way through the area in spectacular style. Matt and his family spent two weeks at a farmstead near Cahors called La Fage when he was here in 2004 and had such a wonderful time suggested we stop here for a while. As such, last night we spent our third night in Luzech. This allowed us to spend the last two days casually exploring this stunning area.

On Tuesday we drove along the banks of the river east to Cahors. The scenery here is breathtaking and every bend elicited more oohs and ahhhs from me. I don't know what it is about vineyards and old towns, but I go googaa over them. Needless to say we have many photos of rolling fields with vines, old farmsteads and adorable streets with stone buildings, flower boxes and wooden shutters.

Cahors had all this and more. We lazed about in the 32 degree heat over lunch (which we can now fully order and pay for in French), wandered about the Pont Valentre (an old Roman bridge across the river) and visited an old fountain Matt collected water from in 2004.

Jealous of passing motorhomes with bikes on their bike rack, we took the opportunity of being in a big enough town to finally purchase two bikes. Now that we are past the biggest sightseeing places in the UK and Paris, we'll have more time to explore smaller places and what better way than on a bike.

"Bonjour, je voudrais deux vellos sil vous plait" I stated confidently to the man in Intersport. He then fired off in rapid French to which I replied "Je ne parl pa Francaise." He said he was shocked I didn't speak French because he understood me. He kindly spoke to us in English after that and helped us pick bikes and spent time checking over them to ensure they were OK.

When we were going through the cash register I noticed the bikes scanned through at €30 more than they should have, despite being on sale. Keen to save the €60, I gestured and muttered random words in French that I had seen on the sale sticker. After 2 phone calls we couldn't understand (although I started to get worried when I heard a word like 'security'), and the check out guy continuing to speak French at me, I wrote down the price the sale sign had stated and was successful. I was immensely pleased with myself. Those situations are awkward enough at home let alone when neither person can understand each other. And yes, now we have bikes :) We headed home for a relaxing evening in our Aire right on the river.

Wednesday was another relaxing day with even more vineyards and cuter towns as we drove to Montcuq, via La Fage.

Matt spend two weeks there in 2004 and has some very fond memories of it, so he was keen to have a peep.

La Fage is a small farmhouse located about 500 meters up a winding driveway from the road between Bagat-en-Quercy and Sauzet (for those of you following on Google Maps). The farmhouse is available as holiday accommodation for people visiting the region.

It can't be seen from the main road, and there's nowhere to park nearby, so we entered the driveway. Keep in mind, this house is for use by holiday-makers, so there may or may not be anyone there.

After 200 meters, Matt became concerned that we wouldn't be able to turn around in the driveway and he'd be forced to reverse the 6 metre van with no rear-vision mirror all the way out, possibly with angry tenants chasing us. We found a spot where we could turn around and hid the motorhome (kind of like hiding an elephant, but we sort of managed it) and proceeded on foot.

Another 200 meters up we found the house. Matt thought it looked exactly the same as it did 7 years ago, and took a bunch of pictures before we hightailed it back to the motorhome. After sneaking our 3 tonne house off private property (only a 6 point turn required) we were on our way to Montcuq.

We arrived there during siesta where all the shops, bar the restaurants and cafes, shut down from 12:30 to 3pm. It gives the town a very eerie feeling.

We then wound our way to Chateux de Bonaguil, west along the Lot from Luzech, and wandered around the massive castle ruins built high up on a giant rock. A little more driving through indescribable countryside, and we were back at Luzech in time for happy hour.

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Life in our motorhome

After 42 days on the road we have learnt many things about life in our motorhome:

- it's possible to sit in the "lounge room" and get all the ingredients and utensils for making a sandwich without leaving your chair.
- driving is better when done from an armchair.
- it's amazing how little space you actually need to live.
- it takes roughly 4 weeks for your body to remember when to automatically duck and weave in the motorhome. If not, bumps on the head and funny bone are inevitable.
- if the oil in your saucepan catches fire because your hire place gave you dodgy saucepans don't panic. Just open the door and carry the flaming container outside and extinguish it on the grass.
- parking the wrong way on the slightest slope will cause difficulty when sleeping with the blood rushing to your head.
- use your wedges to make the motorhome level when parked on uneven ground.
- it's wonderful to unpack your suitcase once into your cupboards and not think about it for 4 months.
- not properly locking the cupboards or fridge will cause them to open while driving.
- sweeping the floor takes a total of 1 minute and is done with a dustpan and brush.
- the fridge is cooled by a burning flame running on gas. Wha?
- our motorhome only has one power point and it only works when we are plugged into electricity somewhere. Double adapters quickly become your friend.
- only store soft items in the overhead cupboards. They may move while driving and fall out when next opened.
- when a jar of coffee falls out of an overhead cupboard it will break and send coffee everywhere.
- instant coffee granules when left with a little water in the sink, eventually turn into something that looks a lot like coffee.
- the glove compartment in front of the passenger holds a total of one book
- things can be stored under the bed (picnic chairs; table; 3 suitcases; electrical, cleaning and toilet equipment; 2 large gas bottles and wedges for stabilising the motorhome), under the floor (10L water; 2L juice), under the seats (8 pairs of shoes), under the fridge (more shoes) and above the front seats (books, maps, 2 hard drives, electrical equipment, souvenirs, stationary)
- you must buckle in the laptop bag while driving.
- before driving you must check: that all 6 windows and all 3 skylights are shut, that the fridge is switched to battery power, that the step is retracted, that all 9 cupboards, 3 drawers and the fridge are locked, that our pesky sliding door is closed, that we're disconnected from the electrical grid, that the electrical cable, table and chairs are packed away, that the toilet is shut, that the shower curtain is tied up, that there's nothing in the sink and that the bike rack is closed.
- when the only thing to cook on is two gas stoves, a steamer becomes your friend. That said, it is possible to cook delish meals at 'home'.
- to utilise storage space place a glass inside a cup. But make sure to wrap them in a plastic bag first, to stop them from clattering when you drive.
- get all your cutlery and wrap it in not slip fabric. Do the same for your utensils. It will stop them sliding around in your drawers.
- we have one drawer that won't open properly and needs a bit of a whack to unlock it. We have called it the slap drawer.
- all drawers are named in relation to the slap drawer, for example: "it's in the one above the slap drawer".
- when you wash your clothes but don't have access to a dryer it's remarkable how many things you can hang up in the motorhome using rope attached from cupboards and random places to lay or hang things. We, at one time, had a fitted sheet, 3 dress shirts, jeans, shorts, 7 t-shirts, 5 tea towels, 2 towels and underware draped around our motorhome. We left if for the day and it was dry when we came back.
- showering in the motorhome is surprisingly wonderful!
- a dark van can become very hot in the morning sun.
- it can be hard to locate the source of a smell. If in doubt, empty all tanks.
- driving at 130km/hr is awesome.

Rachel and Matt

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Le Mont Saint Michel panorama

Le Mont Saint Michel, Normandy, France. Click here for full size image.

Omaha Beach and September 11

The other day I visited Omaha Beach, Normandy. Just over 67 years ago, thousands of Americans died on that beach fighting for the liberation of France.

Last November I visited Ground Zero, Manhattan. 10 years ago, thousands of people were murdered there for no good reason at all.

Since then, Omaha Beach has become a tranquil place of reflection, where only a few American flags, an abstract sculpture and some information panels hint at the deadly and atrocious battle that took place there.

Ground Zero is a hive of activity, with construction underway to mend the massive hole that 9/11 left in the Manhattan skyline and in the hearts of all Americans.

Nothing that could ever be built in either place could properly commemorate the tragic losses. It's not even possible to imagine them.

Thousands of people experienced the most terrifying day of their lives in those places.

In Normandy, the sound of ten thousand guns firing at once, the screaming, the shouting and the cries for help, the smell of death and fear, and the feeling that every movement could be your last. Every time you blinked, there was a chance you'd never open your eyes again.

In Manhattan, the smell of smoke, the site of people jumping from buildings, thoughts of your family and friends and the shock, the unbelievable shock that your world was not safe.

Thousands of people died in both of those places. There's no way that anyone could ever imagine exactly what that means. Thousands of people with lives, hopes, aspirations, jobs, families, friends, parents and children, died. Millions of people will never be born because of those two events.

Nothing could ever be built, done, written or said to properly convey the events that happened on September 11, but I'm glad people are trying.

I just hope that nothing like D-Day or 9/11 ever happens again. It's unlikely, but I'll keep hoping. I hope you do too.

Monet, a tapestry, D-Day and a monastery.

After our day of crazy at Disneyland we said goodbye to Paris and hello once again to the road. We had three very different yet slightly related experiences along our way on Friday.

We started off in the tiny village of Giverny. For 48 years Claude Monet called this town his home and he painted many of his well known pieces, including his waterlillies, from his studio here. I have been a fan of his work for quite a while and saw a large collection of his works on tour at the NSW Art Gallery a few years back so being here was rather special.

For a small sum we were able to wander through his home, see many of his original works hanging in his studio and, my highlight, stroll through his gardens, over THE bridge and around the lilly pond. With the colour of the flowers and the magic atmosphere it is easy to see why this place was the subject of so many of Monet's pieces.

From a famous artist to one of histories most famous artworks, we headed next to Bayeux to see the Bayeux Tapestry. Woven in 1077 it tells the story (in an astonishing 67 meters) of the lead up to the invasion by William the Conqueror and the details of the Battle of Hastings. The audioguide wonderfully describes the happenings in each of the 52 scenes. The attention to detail in the tapestry is exquisite although arguably favors the Normans as it was commissioned by William's half brother.

We moved on from an invasion by Normans to an invasion of Normandy at Omaha Beach, which has been renamed as such to reflect its code name in the war. It is the site of one of the D-Day landings in 1944 where many US troops lost their lives. I felt particularly awkward driving around in our German registered vehicle, especially when we got out to check out one of the German bunkers built on the side of a hill. We spoke in extra loud English just in case.

Our resting place for the evening was Mont St Michel, further SW along the coast. We arrived in time to appreciate a beautiful sunset.

The following day we walked the 2km along the causeway to the monastery which sits towering on an outcrop (much like Nobby's would have been). It is an impressive sight. At high tide it is completely surrounded by water, save for the causeway. At low tide, which at certain times can be a whopping 15m lower (the biggest tidal variation in Europe), the island is surrounded by sand as far as the eye can see. We saw it at low tide and wandered onto the sand to get a different view.

We didn't get very far. The sand is more like clay and very wet and very very slippery. We were desperately trying not to get stuck or slip over and quickly headed back to the safety of the rocks. A sign, which was not large or bright enough to have caught our attention earlier, told us there were pockets of quicksand in the bay. It is possible to walk out there but it suggested you only go with a tourguide who has ropes, a knowledge of the area and will get you back in time before the water rises. We saw many groups, sans shoes, getting ready for a trip around the Mont via the ocean floor.

Wandering around the Mont is fascinating. It is like a vertical version of Brugge- cobbled narrow streets but with lots of slopes and stairs. It quickly becomes exhausting.

After the walk back and stocking up on supplies we started out for our biggest drive yet - to Bordeaux. After a few hours on the road we were getting pretty tired (we'd had a big morning...) so we popped off the motorway and headed into Niort where we stated in a green and leafy Aire right in the middle of town.

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Disneyland

The alarm went off at 6:00. We hit snooze and 9 minutes later were up and fussing about. Disneyland opened at 9am and, needing to buy tickets, we didn't want to be late. At 7:01 we left the caravan park to catch a 7:08 train. We very nearly missed it, despite jogging the whole way and sprinting the last hundred metres to the station and up 3 flights of steps.

By the time we arrived at Parc Disneyland at 8:30 we (I) had just about recovered from the sprint.

We were greeted by a very empty ticket plaza and a small sign telling us that the park opened at 10:00. Apparently the 'high season' had just ended meaning a later time but unfortunately our resources failed to warn us of that. So there we were, tired, hungry and very very early. We bought our tickets and waited at the turnstiles.

In planning our trip Rachel had done some googling. The following is an exerpt from an American website entitled "How To Win!":

"Okay, so you've arrived, waited at the turnstiles (two or three to the left of the dead centre!) and Mickey has come out to the centre in front of you with a young child to open the park. When you hear the train hooter give two blasts the park has opened. The little red arrow on the front of the turnstile changes to green. When that happens, it will accept your entrance ticket and you can enter. Clear the turnstiles and move forward quickly, bearing left.

"As you exit the arches from the first open area in front you pass through a covered locker storage area and emerge into the town centre square. Take the left hand entrance and march briskly to the far end. As you exit the doors at the far end immediately to your left is a covered walkway with a white rope across. Position yourselves at the right hand side of this rope (it's always unclipped at that end).

"You'll have about half an hour to wait for the rope drop but don't worry; this will save you hours of waiting in line later on. The rope is unclipped following the Disney 'anthem' (Zip a dee Do Dah played by the Prague symphony orchestra!) at 9.30 am and the words '...enjoy your day in Disneyland and please walk, don't run, to your first destination.' This is the cue for you to run, as fast as humanly possible, to the end of the walkway.

"As you exit the walkway you pass in front of the main entrance to Frontier land and you will see that you are ahead of all but the Olympic trainees. Continue straight ahead, keeping the lake to your left and, after passing the shooting gallery, you will encounter the entrance to your left of Big Thunder Mountain."

Without intending to, we did all those things. We were first in line at the turnstile; we stood on the right hand side of the rope (and were accosted by several small and handsy children dying to get to the front); we ran to Big Thunder Mountain (Rachel's idea, not mine) and we got on the second train of the day.

Truth be told, we needn't have bothered running as it was very quiet. The park has constantly updated information on queue lengths, and we never queued for more than 20 minutes on any of the 7 rides we went on (you can get the queue line information on an ipone app - wow!). Most of the people there were young families whose children, much to their dissapointment, were too short to go on any of the fast and scary rides. Cue the tantrums.

Rachel, who isn't a fan of upside-downsie roller coasters went on all three, and found that they were the most exciting, if not slightly nauseating. Each ride had a theme which added to the experience and they'd gone to the most incredible trouble creating sets and props and storylines for each ride. I suppose it gives you something to look at while you're standing there waiting.

There was the wild wild west at Big Thunder Mountain, killing Zurg with lazers at the Buzz Lightyear Lazer Blast, travelling through space in the pitch black on a roller coaster at Space Mountain Mission 2, a Star Wars inspired flight simulater through a battle zone at Star Tours, a pirate ship ride at The Pirates of the Carribean, a ride on a rickety (yet incredibly fast) mine cart at Indiana Jones and the Temple of Peril (which we did in the rain!), a hotel lift that would shoot up and drop down 12 stories (where did my stomach go) at the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror and a recording studio at the Rock n Rollercoaster starring Aerosmith (yes that is the full title of the ride). There's videos of all the rides on YouTube if anyone's interested.

We also went to a stunt show called Moteurs Action Stunt Show Spectacular (which sounds awesome with a French accent). It had the expected cars and motorbikes doing tricks, men on fire, things driving through glass windows, explosions, lots of music, even more revs and screeches and a trilingual host to keep the crowd (mostly Spanish people) entertained.

The park was a very interesting place and they have spared no expense at creating another world. At the heart of the park is the iconic castle which rises quite dramatically into the sky. Primarily made for kids, there's lots of rides and attractions targeted at them. We, for instance, did not go on a single ride in Fantasyland, did not line up to meet Mickey Mouse or any of his friends or watch a parade.

Overall it was a fantastic day and I'd definitely recommend going on a Thursday in the low season.

Versailles

I don't know a whole lot about French history pre-1914, so to appreciate The Palace of Versailles fully, I did some research. I'll summarise it here for you.

Once upon a time, a young boy named Louis XIV (odd parents) became the king of France at the age of 5. He was king for a very, very long time - so long in fact that he outlived his son and grandson.

While he was king he apparently gained a pretty high opinion of himself and started calling himself "Le roi soleil", which translates to "the Sun King", or "the Circus King" depending on your translation.

He spent a very, very large amount of money on paintings of himself, haircuts that made him look like a poodle in a robe and a big palace in Versailles. The palace was so big that Louis had all of his friends move in there too. He also moved the capital of France to Versailles, I assume because he didn't like to commute.

After seventy-something years on the throne, Louis XIV died, and his great grandson Louis VX (unimaginative parents) became the king.

Nothing particularly interesting happened until Louis XVI (very unimaginative parents) married an Austrian Princess called Marie Antoinette. She was a kinky young lass, so Louis XVI built her a place to "play milk maid" (I'm quoting the guide book there) in the grounds of the palace.

One day, a bunch of people who didn't like Louis XVI very much killed all his guards, ran into the palace at Versailles and dragged Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette (possibly dressed as milk maids) off to have a very, very, very short haircut.

About 80 years later the state of Germany began in the Hall of Mirrors inside the palace. Apparently they liked looking at themselves and there weren't enough mirrors in Germany.

In 1919, World War I officially ended in the very same hall with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles.

I'm glad I researched all that before going to the Palace, because otherwise I wouldn't have known any of it at all.

The audio guides primarily focussed on the paintings on the walls and ceiling - not on the people in them, or even the people who painted them. Also, all the furniture was removed and sold off in the 18th century (or the XVIII century as it was called in the palace, because everybody loves Roman numerals) which gives the place a very empty feel.

On top of that, only a very small amount of the palace is open to the public, so after only about an hour or so in there, we left to see the gardens, and that's where the fun started.

The gardens are free, but for the price of €30/hour, visitors can hire golf carts to ride around the enormous complex in. After initially hesitating at the expense, we bit the bullet and got one.

It was fantastic. The golf cart has built in speakers which give an audio commentary on what you're seeing as you proceed around the garden, and when it's not talking, it plays lovely classical music. It was a perfect selection of music for the gardens, and the experience was certainly worth the money.

Don't get me wrong, we had some fun with the golf cart. The company limits the driving age to 24, but as Rachel is turning 24 in less than 2 weeks and looks very trustworthy, they let her drive. The age limit is a little unnecessary. The golf cart doesn't really have speed demon capabilities:

After being a little disappointed with our tour of the palace itself, we left feeling great about our experience after having a 59 minute tour of the gardens (we floored it towards the end).

Our ride on that very exciting golf cart was also great preparation for what was to come the next day...

The Moulin Rouge

Ahhhh the Moulin Rouge. Let's start at the beginning. 

Matt: We booked our tickets for the 9pm Wednesday show online with France Tourism. Unfortunately they needed printing, and so when we first arrived in Montmartre our priority was finding an Internet cafe with a printer.

We went into McDonalds to use their free Wi-Fi to find one. We couldn't find any. Possibly, due to the prevalence of free Wi-Fi like the one we were using they have all gone out of business. Ironic, huh?

We knew that the Centre Pompidou which we visited 2 days ago had a library with printing services built in, so we made our way across town to there. It was closed, along with the rest of the museum. 

Thankfully, they left their free Wi-Fi on, and we used it to find another Internet cafe nearby. We found the cafe and printed our tickets. While I was there, Rachel encountered two Americans who were having a bad day, much like we had when we first arrived in France.

The young couple were both engrossed in their tasks. The man was busy googling "how to live cheaply in Paris" and the woman was  writing a long email to her mother which included the phrase "everything's so much harder here than in America!"

Poor kids. It made me very glad to have the motorhome. If we have a series of awful days, we can just drive to the coast and relax in an Aire for a few days. Not so for people who have to "live cheaply in Paris". 

Rachel: With tickets in hand, we lined up to see the show. We had been asked to wear formal attire, which means Matt wore what he usually wore, and I enjoyed getting dressed up after dressing like a tourist for the last month. 

From the moment you step in you are transported to another place. This, I think, is the best state of mind to be in when visiting the Moulin Rouge. Imagine it's a different time and a different place. It seemed to work quite well for me. Funnily enough we were seated at a table of 8 with 6 other Australians, heralding from Brisbane, Perth and Griffith. We all had a chat as we sipped on the bottle of Champagne included with our ticket and waited for the show to begin. 

It's very difficult to describe what happened over the next two hours and I would hate to give the wrong impression. I shall do my best. For those intending to visit I suggest you  stop reading now as I'd hate to ruin it for you. 

The show is essentially a cabaret show with 6 singers singing mostly in French (although we're still unsure if it was live or not) and 60 dancers. Unfortunately I wouldn't really rate the choreography or dancing that highly. Luckily I had been warned of this before hand and had lowered my expectations. It was still entertaining nonetheless. I was shocked to recognise one of the three lead guys as David Tandy, a Novocastrian who danced at Marie Walton-Mahons a few years ahead of me. Small world indeed. There were different sets for each section of the show with themes such as Pirates, The Circus and of course the French Can Can. 

The real highlight however is the costumes. There were more sequins and feathers than if a Miss Donna tap concert and Wayne Rogers show made a baby, and that baby took steroids. Now, how do I bring this up... There was something very wrong with these costumes. In an important place where there should have been fabric there was none. Instead there were just boobies. Lots and lots of boobies. Occasionally they were covered partially with beads or feathers, but the majority of the time the girls were wearing normal showgirl costumes just with giant wedgies and holes cut out where the boobies are (how many times can I say boobies in this post I wonder...). 

This is where clarification is needed. The costumes seemed so normal and did not draw attention that, after the initial shock, you actually forgot they were there. Or at least I did, I can't vouch for the male audience. It was not provocative or seedy. There were not men leering at the women and the women were not degraded or cheapened. It was what it was. Just girls dancing, albeit with holes in their tops. 

There were also other things to keep the crowd in awe such as the worlds fastest juggler, a women who swims with pythons after the whole stage rises to reveal a giant tank, a ventriloquist and a couple who do stunts and acrobatics. The crowd, including us, were wooing, gasping and cheering in amazement. 

Overall it was a great night out. If I only see one Cabaret in my life, and I probably only will, I'm glad it was here. I do think Mr Baz Luhrmann took a great deal of creative license when making Moulin Rouge though. We didn't see Nicole Kidman's boobies once!

Secret Smiles, Stairs, Snails and Sex Shops

On Monday we made our second attempt at seeing the Louvre. At all three levels of entry - security, ticket purchase and final entry - we were able to casually walk through with no wait. It was certainly different to the long long line we encountered the previous day and proved our decision to wait a day was correct. 

We strolled through the large corridors heading towards the museums drawcard - the Mona Lisa. As expected there was a crowd of eager photographers crowded in front of it but a patient wait saw us at the front, eager to snap a pic for ourselves. I personally don't see what all the fuss is about really. You can't get up close enough to examine it in any detail and it is safely stored behind bullet proof glass, the only painting in the museum to be so. This reminds you that are looking at something famous but can't quite figure out why. Regardless of this, if the topic comes up you will find me saying "oh yes, I've seen the Mona Lisa at the Louvre", in a pompous way no doubt. And that's the point, isn't it... 

We also saw lots of other works, some recognisable, some not such as Venus di Milo and Winged Victory. Matt and I also invented a new game - What are They Saying - where we provided the dialogue for the characters in the paintings and sculptures. For example many of the statues were saying "hmmm where did my head go?" or "has anybody seen my arm?". We believe the meaning behind Mona Lisa's smile is simple - "you think there's something special about me... but there's not... *giggle*"

Our next stop was the Eiffel Tower. The line for the lift was huge so, feeling active, we joined a much shorter queue to climb to the second level and then catch the lift from there. That meant a total of 669 steps, which for those playing at home, is a lot of steps. It is at this point I realised I was wearing sandals. We had breaks at level 1 (320 steps) and level 2 (669 steps) before catching the lift the rest of the way. Thankfully, you can't climb the stairs all the way. The great views started with the glass walled lift ride to the top and culminated with a quick session on the very windy balcony. It was at this point I realised I was wearing a dress. 

After getting back to ground level we sat in a park opposite the tower and watched the moon rise behind it. A beautiful sight indeed. It is such an attractive building thanks to the gentle curves, arches and decoration. It is very easy just to sit and stare at, enchanted by it's uniqueness and strange visual appeal. 

We then walked along the Seine and enjoyed a delightful dinner just opposite the tunnel where Princess Di died. While still making up our minds about what to eat our drinks arrived. I had ordered a cocktail and it came with a sparkler and glowstick in the drink. This gave me a little too much spark and when it came time to order I requested an entree of 12 Escargot, or in simple mans terms - snails. We were startled to receive a tiny fork and a crazy utensil somewhat like tongs. We tried to work out how we were to eat them using these implements but luckily our kind waiter showed us when he brought out the food. 

What sat before us was a plate of snails. That is essentially all they were. There was a green sauce oozing from the hole which only made them more unappetising to look at. Matt made me go first as it was my "stupid idea" and, with a screwed up face, I used the tongs to hold the shell and the tiny fork to scoop out the inside. If I didn't know what I was eating it would have been fine as they did taste quite delicious. But the thought that I was eating a snail was difficult to shake. We persevered and it wasn't until about snail 4 that it became difficult to stomache those little blobs covered in goo. "I feel like I'm eating an alien" commented Matt. By snail 6 I vomited a little in my mouth (sorry folks, but it happened). A second cocktail later had us laughing about the whole experience and I'm glad we gave it a go. 

Thankfully the rest of meal was fit for human consumption. Although possibly the most expensive meal Matt and I have had together, it was a wonderful evening. We then walked back down the river and past the Eiffel Tower at night. 

We had a late start the following day after an epic sleep-in. Our bodies obviously needed to recover after the previous days walking and Escargoting. We spent the day in the arty suburb of Montmartre. We caught the funicular up the hill and spent a good while sitting on the steps of Sacré Cœur looking out over the city. It is quite a special place. We watched the people come and go, listened to various buskers and even saw one couple have their wedding photos taken. We then wandered through the cobbled streets, watching all the artists at work. It felt like we were in a movie! 

After heading back down via the steps of Sacré Cœur, we walked along Boulevard de Clichy, marveling at it's, erm... 'interesting' shops. We started with the Sexodrome, located right next to the hotel Matt stayed in in 2004 when he was in Paris, and passed countless 'sex shops' with names such as Pussys, The Porno Shop and The Museum of Erotica. Such a classy classy place. Situated halfway along is the Moulin Rouge, with it's iconic red windmill. We saw the 9pm show and there is so much to tell that it deserves it's very own post. Ooh la la!