We got up late and I soon discovered that someone had let loose a herd of elephants playing percussion instruments in my head and shovelled ash in my throat while I slept. To say I felt like crap would be an understatement. Ali seemed to fare a lot better but I couldn’t even have a shave because the buzzing of the shaver would have been too painful.
Groggily we checked out of the hotel after taking in as much liquid as we possibly could, supplemented with Nurofen for me. The plan was to drive the 30 miles south to Portofino, find an hotel and stay for 2 nights so we could watch the Grand Prix while in Italy. At least we didn’t have to worry too much about getting caught short on the drive thanks to the massive dehydration we were both suffering.
The coast road into Portofino is as beautiful as it is dangerous. In 5 or 6 miles I could only have got up to 3rd gear as many times. It was so narrow with buses swinging around blind curves on the wrong side of the road. There were a few bottom-clenching moments but thankfully no new scars were added to the car. We passed through beautiful little towns with small coves of crystal clear turquoise waters lapping at the sheer cliff faces and boats from small leisure craft to fantastically expensive yachts bobbing gently as the waves lapped at their sides.
All I had heard vaguely about Portofino previously was that it was a lovely Italian resort and indeed it is. The only trouble is that it’s also the sort of place that the likes of Bill Gates, Rupert Murdoch, Roman Ibramovich and their ilk moor their super-yachts to go shopping in the designer boutiques.
The harbour is achingly beautiful in a natural cove with a castle overlooking it all from the top of the cliffs. The buildings are typically Mediterranean with immaculate shutters and awnings which on ground level have been turned into some of the most expensive retail outlets in the world. You know they are posh when they don’t need plate glass windows to show you what they sell. If you know of them, you can afford to shop in them. We did not go shopping in Portofino!
Unsurprisingly, and after an expensive but mediocre pasta lunch we decided that maybe we were in the wrong place to find a budget hotel so reluctantly made our way out of Portofino, the original plans now disbanded.
The choices were to go further south and find a hotel, go back to Genoa which is about the only major city between Portofino and the French border, or to press on into France. In the end we decided on France because it would get us away from the crazy Italian drivers and I thought that we had probably pressed our luck after 2 days with no scratches or dings on the car. We stopped at a service station and made a reservation at the Ibis in Nice.
A couple of hours later we were safely settled into the hotel where I ordered drinks in French and was rewarded with a puzzled look and asked if I spoke English! So much for that French language audiobook! I was vindicated later when we ordered dinner and the waitress thought I was French after I spoke so maybe the audiobook wasn’t such a bad investment after all J
We went for a walk after dinner along the first part of the promenade by the beach and were surprised at the amount of activity at 10pm. There were families having barbecues and kids playing volleyball. It was a hive of activity and we were expecting a quiet walk along a mostly deserted beach.
I did try to get photos of a most amazing red moon as it rose in the East but the light pollution from the promenade made it impossible.
Feeling absolutely knackered after the walking, driving and shaking off a dreadful hangover it was not hard to fall asleep very soundly, very quickly.
That’s all for now mon amies. A Bientot!
Groggily we checked out of the hotel after taking in as much liquid as we possibly could, supplemented with Nurofen for me. The plan was to drive the 30 miles south to Portofino, find an hotel and stay for 2 nights so we could watch the Grand Prix while in Italy. At least we didn’t have to worry too much about getting caught short on the drive thanks to the massive dehydration we were both suffering.
The coast road into Portofino is as beautiful as it is dangerous. In 5 or 6 miles I could only have got up to 3rd gear as many times. It was so narrow with buses swinging around blind curves on the wrong side of the road. There were a few bottom-clenching moments but thankfully no new scars were added to the car. We passed through beautiful little towns with small coves of crystal clear turquoise waters lapping at the sheer cliff faces and boats from small leisure craft to fantastically expensive yachts bobbing gently as the waves lapped at their sides.
All I had heard vaguely about Portofino previously was that it was a lovely Italian resort and indeed it is. The only trouble is that it’s also the sort of place that the likes of Bill Gates, Rupert Murdoch, Roman Ibramovich and their ilk moor their super-yachts to go shopping in the designer boutiques.
The harbour is achingly beautiful in a natural cove with a castle overlooking it all from the top of the cliffs. The buildings are typically Mediterranean with immaculate shutters and awnings which on ground level have been turned into some of the most expensive retail outlets in the world. You know they are posh when they don’t need plate glass windows to show you what they sell. If you know of them, you can afford to shop in them. We did not go shopping in Portofino!
Unsurprisingly, and after an expensive but mediocre pasta lunch we decided that maybe we were in the wrong place to find a budget hotel so reluctantly made our way out of Portofino, the original plans now disbanded.
The choices were to go further south and find a hotel, go back to Genoa which is about the only major city between Portofino and the French border, or to press on into France. In the end we decided on France because it would get us away from the crazy Italian drivers and I thought that we had probably pressed our luck after 2 days with no scratches or dings on the car. We stopped at a service station and made a reservation at the Ibis in Nice.
A couple of hours later we were safely settled into the hotel where I ordered drinks in French and was rewarded with a puzzled look and asked if I spoke English! So much for that French language audiobook! I was vindicated later when we ordered dinner and the waitress thought I was French after I spoke so maybe the audiobook wasn’t such a bad investment after all J
We went for a walk after dinner along the first part of the promenade by the beach and were surprised at the amount of activity at 10pm. There were families having barbecues and kids playing volleyball. It was a hive of activity and we were expecting a quiet walk along a mostly deserted beach.
I did try to get photos of a most amazing red moon as it rose in the East but the light pollution from the promenade made it impossible.
Feeling absolutely knackered after the walking, driving and shaking off a dreadful hangover it was not hard to fall asleep very soundly, very quickly.
That’s all for now mon amies. A Bientot!
