Fuel-less in Provence

Versione italiana

It’s a late April Saturday when we meet up at the usual bakery-café in Bazzano for the coffee before the departure. This time it’s Yasmin, Lollo, MadMax, (Uncle) Dema and I. Just a few months before we were in Stockholm, together with many others, for my thesis defense. While MadMax, you will recall, was also part to the adventure in Morocco which was narrated in this blog. But these are other stories, today we are heading towards…..drumrolls…… tumbatatum…… tum…. tum…. tum: Southern France!! Anna, childhood friend and neighbour of mine, is now attending a circus school just a few kilometers from Cannes. What do you think, that we don’t pay a visit?!?! So here it comes the story of a supposedly chilled long-weekend, which actually turned into another small adventure. You'll also find throughout this article: the map of the itinerary we followed, some viewpoint tips in blue and names of tasty recipes in yellow. 

On board of my dad’s Opel Zafira we gladly chat and consume the CNG fuel while on the highway through Emilia-Romagna and Liguria regions. Only once in Savona we recall it would be good to fuel up before leaving Italian territory, as CNG is not so easy to find abroad. We decide to go for the station in Imperia, the last one before the French border. But we get there 5 minutes too late, lunch break has started. Even though the employee is still around he refuses to fuel us up, and self-refill is not allowed. He’s probably already heard hundreds of time the argument: “please, this is the last station before France”. And the fact we are obviously about to start a holiday only seems to make his mood worse than it already is. Before MadMax gets out of the car, we leave again. We start feeling a little bit better only after leaving a horrible comment on Google Reviews. But we’re still optimist to find another CNG station in France, or in the worst case to go with the gasoline tank, which is not as big as the gas one since it's meant to be used for emergencies only.

We reach Montecarlo. We are hungry. While searching for a nice spot where to eat our sandwiches, we end up closer and closer to the sea. Until we’re suddenly at the starting grid of Montecarlo’s Grand Prix. The traffic light is red, MadMax is at the wheel. He turns back towards us, but the answer is obvious: of course we want to make a round of the most famous Formula 1 circuit, with an Opel Zafira! MadMax’s foot automatically can’t hide the joy and as soon as the green comes we’re sprinting forward. Suddenly we’re in a videogame, and the adrenaline kicks in. We pass from the Casino, in front of which there’s a big crowd and more luxurious cars we’ve ever seen. I pray internally that MadMax doesn’t fuck it up, as just a scratch on one of those might compromise all our lives. But everything goes well. We pass from the final tunnel and the harbor with the yachts. Then we’re back where we were, but MadMax is too weak: he HAS to do it again. So we give him a second round of glory. 

Then Dema pulls his first bunny out of the hat. Between him and Lollo we are fully covered in terms of geography-knowledge, we almost wouldn’t need a book guide for this trip. 

“We could eat at Tetê de Chain, the Dog’s Head!”
“What?"
“Tetê de Chain, there’s an incredible viewpoint there”

We trust him and start driving up on the winding, mountain road to Tetê de Chain. Luckily they don’t trust me when I propose to continue walking from a path I see…it would have taken us forever to reach the top. And we might have missed this:

Tetê de Chain (Montecarlo)

The first CNG station in France is out of order. There’s no sign to indicate it but nothing comes out of the pump, doesn’t matter which credit card you put in. So we use gasoline. Cannes is not so far away, anyway. Even though the sea should be close I don’t feel it. What I surely notice is the intense, almost invasive green all along the way. And in a distance, far but endless, the human footprint. Single houses and narrow roads all over the hills in front of us, not a single hectare was spared from these constructions. The weird thing is that houses are so far apart, forming some sort of “diffuse towns” instead of proper urban centers separated by countryside.

We arrive to Anna's circus school, which is located in Grasse. She is specializing in aerial fabrics, but we find her in the middle of a horn-instruments marching orchestra. Kids, youngsters and adults all play and march together, who wants can join them. What a warm welcome, you didn’t have to! Besides Anna, we also find Serena and my cousin Greta. They are video-makers and they just got there to shoot a short documentary. After a brief round of the school and an “exclusive” rehearsal of the students performances, we give each other appointment to the shopping center. We have plans for an evening grill at Anna’s and we need ingredients. 

Anna’s house is supposedly nice, but we’ll never know. We get there when it’s already dark and we are welcomed directly in her backyard. Some of us are sent to gather wood, some others to cut vegetables and cheese. I have the task to start a fire, FAST they tell me. After an hour it’s still not ready for grilling, there’s a lot of smoke and 0 heat. Around eleven someone starts complaining. Luckily there’s a lot to talk about, I think. Eventually we get to eat something. Around us, some of Anna’s housemates are throwing knives against a flipped table. 

“It’s like this every night” Anna says. “All they do is meditate, throwing knives and drinking wine”. Hopefully they didn’t invert the order today! (I think).

In the meanwhile a Costarican dude has gotten Dema, who is too polite to say anything, into a monologue by the fire. In the meanwhile, MadMax has challenged the knife throwers. And despite his crooked technique, he gains some respect.

Next day, all 8 of us are heading towards Nice. It’s quite late, the sun is shining and the spring is in the air. However our stomachs are not so romantic and we decide -under Uncle Dema’s suggestion- for a short lunch-stop in Cagne-sur-mer. Cagne-sur-mer is a town with a cute old city on top of a hill. A free shuttle bus is available from down town. Once up, we find ourselves in front of one of the most well known stereotypes for France: Boules. Which is called Pétanque here and it’s played like this: each team has 8 metallic balls and 2 players, who play one at a time until they're out of balls or they’ve got closest to the little one. I’m surprised to see players of all ages and colors, and often crowds of people watching the matches. But one thing hasn’t changed: Boules is still a men-only sport.

Pétanque players above and below

A street in Cagnes-sur-Mer

The view from Cagnes-sua-Mer

In the afternoon we reach Nice. Guided by Anna, we first make a stop in a bakery which sells Chichi Fregì. Chichi Fregìs are long and fried sweets, covered with sugar. They are similar to the Spanish churros, but tastier! From the website of the cheese Presidènt you can find all the infos about them. As soon as the sugar kicks in, we decide to climb Colline du Château. Of the Savoia’s Family Castle which used to stood there, very little remains today. However the nice view over the city is still there, while the royal garden was turned into a park full of joggers and a cemetery. When we’re ready to go, the exit gates are closed and we find out that there were opening times for the park. So we’re directed to the other side of the hill, where a long stairway leads down to the sea.

That is how we reach Promenade des Anglais, the palmy and pedestrian alley where a terrorist attack happened in 2016. The 31 year old, French-Tunisian Mohamed Lahouaiej-Bouhlel, killed 86 and wounded 302 more by entering the Promenade with a Renault truck during the National Day. Despite this tragic page of history, Nice looks happy today. The sea is shining under the sun, while the other Promenade – Promenade du Paillon- was transformed into a urban botanical garden and playground for children. Nice is an elegant city, bigger than expected. It lives of tourism, as indicated by the number of planes flying in and out on top of our heads. We leave Nice with the feeling of having just spotted the tip of the iceberg, but the time available is what it is and Marseille is already waiting for us!   

Above and below, la Promenade du Paillon (Nice)

View from the Castle Hill, Nice

Anna's circus skills

The next CNG station is as out of order as the previous one. Doesn’t matter. We get to Marseille anyway. My first thought, while crossing a hilly and colourful neighbourhood, is: “Are we back in Italy?”. Then a famous Italian advertising, translated to French, comes out from the radio: “Poltronesofà. Les artisans de la qualitè!”. So far all very familiar then…

We are guests of Abdelfateh. He is an airbnb host and he is VERY concerned to explain to us the instructions for the use of TV in our room. But he also shows to us the apartment, which belongs to a building which is being renovated (by him) but is quite central. The harbour is only 5 minutes away and is the most touristic area. It is protected on both sides by two fortresses and two churches. We pay a visit to all of them, not scared of the cliffs we have to climb in order to reach them. Worth a mention is especially Notre Dame la Garde and the view from its summit.

Looking from above you can see Chateau d’If, the prison of the Count of Montecristo as imagined by Alexandre Dumas. And not so distant, but not really visible, the acclaimed “Calanques” of Marseille. Quite different from the Italian geologic formations with the same name, these ones might remind me more of Irish cliffs diving into the sea. The only difference is that they attract 2 million visitors every year. Not today however, since the Mediterranean has woken up a little bit violent and no boats are leaving the harbour to bring tourists there. It means that we’ll have to skip this part of the plan and be happy with our Emilia-Romagna’s “Calanques”. 

We go instead to the neighbourhood of Panier, which literally translates as “the bread basket”. Historical, all ups and downs and close to the sea; narrow streets with one row of tables outside of the cafés; old looking, colourful, and sometimes filled with graffiti walls. Basically all that you expect from a Mediterranean city. We explore Panier thoroughly, as Lollo is looking for Marseille's soap to bring home together with all kinds of other typical products. It’s actually thanks to Lollo that we get to try the Navettes, ship-shaped biscuits typical of the Provence region. Besides the classic orange flower aroma, you can find all different sorts. I try the lemon ones, which tasted good but are not worth the price they sell them for. It’s true that we probably also pay for the name of the bakery, which claims to own the original recipe. 

Lollo’s passion for typical products almost costs us a dinner. It happens that his personal to-go-list for restaurants (mostly filled thanks to "Truckdrivers at the restaurant" show) eventually ends. They’re all too full, closed or too expensive. But they are definitely far away from each other, so that by 10 pm we have walked several kilometers but haven’t found the famous Bouillabaisse (a special and expensive fish soup). In the square where we have arrived there’s an open creperie. “Don’t enter! It’s food from Bretagne!” you will yell and you’d be right. But you know, hunger makes you do things you would’t imagine…

One of the two old fortresses of Marseille and, behind it, the Palace of the Lighthouse

Notre Dame de la Garde (Marseille)

The French Alps viewed from Notre Dame de la Garde

Marseille's soap

Gorges du Verdon, aka French Grand Canyon. That’s where we are directed after a night in Marseille. But we decide to make another stop first: a few kilometers from Marseilles there's a smaller city, which was the home town of the impressionist painter Paul Cezanne: Aix en Provence. We stop there out of curiosity. It’s market day, which is good because it’s Shopping Day for Taz, the Tasmanian Devil-Lollo. Not only he finds the soap, but also several bottles of wine, cheese and more sweets. So after a stroll around the city center and some shopping, we get back on the road in order to reach the Canyon (and then reach again the coast around Cannes) before it’s night. We meet very few other tourists, also on road trips like ourselves. However the scenery of the Canyon is so cool that I  wish we had tents, bikes or kayaks and, especially, more time to enjoy it fully. But this time we don't.

Once we reach the Cote Azur again, the ring in the map of our journey is then closed. We go for a stroll in Cannes, where Lollo introduces us to another specialty: Pan bagnat, a GREAT sandwich! The bread is round and soft, it’s roasted and dipped into olive oil and vinegar. The filling is with fresh tomatoes, basil, onions, olives, tuna fish and boiled eggs. In the meanwhile the city is busy, the Festival will start in a week and Cannes will become the center of the earth for a few days. Understandably it needs to get pretty now, but we’re so not interested in that. We prefer spending our last day in the nature. So after a very resting night (in a villa we’ll never be able to afford if not through AirBnb), we are fully recharged and we accept another suggestion from Uncle Dema: Le Sentier du Litoral, a walking route along Cap D’Antibes, the small peninsula south of the city of Antibes. The wether is one again mild and sunny, which we enjoy it very much all along the 5 kilometers of the Sentier. We enjoy a little bit less our first and last dip in the sea, which is quite cold and filled with small jelly fish. 

A square in Aix-en-Provence

Here and below is the Gorges du Verdon

The Mediterranean Sea

It’s time to go home. Suitcases and baguettes are loaded… but are we are missing something? Oh shit, the fuel!!! We realize we forgot to refill once we’re already in the highway and we’re approaching Italy, right after Montecarlo. Yasmin is driving and her face turns pale and more serious than usual when she announces us that we’re already half way of the reserve. We knew the tank wasn’t so large, but none of us thought it would be SO small. When the car starts moving intermittently and then stops, our faces turn pale too and our hearts double their speeds. 

What to do? Get out of the car in case someone hits us from the back? Try to reach a fuel station by foot? 

We listen to Lollo, who suggests to try to start the car again. Yasmin tries, and it works. Now the gasoline level is not even so low, even though it's still quite close to 0. We start moving and proceed at 10 kilometers per hour in the right lane. We pass a bridge and a tunnel, a few curves and then we see it: a gas station appears at the end of the road like a miracle. We continue at the same speed until we reach it. We would have payed hundred times more, but the price for our happiness is actually cheap: 1,3€ per liter. So we fill up until it’s full and then we're off again.

Now that we've passed also this last adventure, we know that we’ll sleep well for a while. Satisfied of this journey, happy for the great moments together and grateful for having all this beauty just around the corner. In the end, sometimes, all it takes to be happy is just to hit the road!

A part of the Sentier du Litoral (Cap D'Antibes)

Photograph credits: Lollo and Uncle Dema