Whitby Goth

Back to England for our next foray. Haven’t been for quite some time. And this will be  a little different. Going to the Whitby Goth weekend for a little posing and a good music. Great for the kids, too with all the costumes. But what should I go as, something hideous and scary? I know, I’ll go as me!

Staying in Scarborough and will have to drive on the the left again, should be fun! Visit will coincide with Bonfire night and hot potatoes round the fire, great stuff.

Now, where ar my spare vampire teeth?

Arles

I never try to put too much trust in technology. Brought up pulling plugs out at night has kind of stayed with me. My point, well, purchasing a GPS is a point in question. In the old days I would lift my quill and scratch directions, turn -offs (politics, curtain shops) and have all to hand in my grubby little mitts.

Resplendent  on our dashboard was a GPS. It kept slipping off so it was put on the windscreen, ”No, not here dear, I need to see the road.”

And this device with its purple thick line seductively led us successfully from Avignon to a small roundabout outside Arles, we could actually see Arles. But it was but a tease. GPS went into meltdown, or as far as I’m concerned. Up a narrow street, that then became narrower, twisted, turned almost back on itself. Look, we’ve already seen that cigarette pack already. Just in case it wasn’t narrow enough the locals had planted bollards. We we’re close enough to pass the time of day with an elderly lady leaning through her window. Wonderful shutters. Blue. Must get a picture later.

I protested about the route, then spied a sign from history to the village/town centre. Back and round, and round and back. Finally onto a road wider than a bow legged women doing the splits. Breathe. The road, not the bow legged woman, you understand??And the good news, the GPS took us out the same way out. I still know somewhere there is a proper way into Arles. Park and debuss amongst calls from the children for food, toilets and drink, but not necessarily in that order.

Hey, well done Arles. Why?  For they had a delightful young lady wearing hint of Goth,  in the information centre, who spoke English, was helpful and actually suggested what we should visit. She was doing great until she mentioned the football;-)

To walk around and see the buildings painted by an Gogh was amazing. The cafe where he stood and painted with a pencil behind his ear, no the other ear.

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The ancient arena a delight and the prices frightening, and outside the arena a  dog with all  real talent. Bless it!IMG_1761

Wonderful to visit, but don’t trust the technology.

 

Ochre and Lavender Blue of Provence

The colours that house the people of Provence come from nature and thus are beyond merely pleasing on eyes that seldom settle upon such vivid colour and light. Shutters, how can one become so smitten with shutters? Well their rustic nature coupled to painting them blue, lavender blue or navy blue is astonishing, that’s how! Set against the ochre walls they are a delight.

 

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It is obvious that where the ochre comes from, and the blue of darker shades is harvested from the skies. The lavender blue from the fields of lavender that enliven this region.

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The clear blue of the sky against the ochre cliffs of  Rousillon, for example,  is such a wonderful combination that is transferred into the environment of the locals. The colours of life. The colours of Provence. No wonder Van Gogh was drawn to the region.

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Annecy

Annecy is situated at the northern end of Lake Annecy. Their has been a setttlement their since at least Roman times. And this is very important. The roads are flat and normal, such a relief after the Alps;-) IMG_1545

This is the Palais de l’Isle which stands on the river Thiou. To me it is reminiscent of the bows of a boat. The scaffolding dates back as far as a few months ago! IMG_1526

A (flat) canal wends its way throught the town which is wonderful on the eye.

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Well worth a visit with a lovely atmosphere.

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Upwards and upwards Chamonix

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Today my wife reminded me that we were going to take in Chamionix on the way down to Grenoble. This did not really get properly processed, and the light of my light did not  elucidate on the subject further. I sould have been warned As we came down the motorway towards a range of daunting mountains, I pointed out a tiny little road, set at a bizarre angle, snaking up the mountains. Still the darling I love said nothing. As we came off the motorway it slowly dawned on me that we were heading directly for that narrow slice of building technology clinging to the ever growing mountain. My wife knows that I love mountains, and heights, the higher the better;-)

With hands starting to feel a little sweaty I pointed the car up the narrow road, trying not to look down at the precipitous sheer drop off to my right. Switchbacks and steep climbs – I was in heaven. Hats off to the motorcyclists who shot past, good luck to them. And still upwards we climbed past tiny hamlets and lone houses. Who can live in such a place? Finally we started to slowly ascend, again via switchbacks and narrow ways of course, until we pulled over in Chamonix. Across from our eatery my dear pointed out a mountain top, with a giddy cable car heading to the summit. Smilingly she asked if I wanted to go up there. My answer has not been recorded!

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