Friendly Lake Como

On our way back into Italy from France, we blitzed Milan for an evening. That was just enough time to see the locals draped in Louis Vuitton accessories and zipping around town on their scooters in 3-piece suits.

Our eventual destination was where the Alps meet the water at Lake Como. 

 

There are more towns and less villas than I expected along Lake Como, but when you do spot the villas, they are amazing. They just ooze old-time elegance.

 

We visited a dreamy little one called Villa del Balbianello.

Villa del Balbianello was originally built by a wealthy Cardinal in the 1700s, but it was the villa’s last owner who was the most interesting. He was the heir to Italy’s major department store chain and loved to organize and finance expeditions. The villa is full of his exploration equipment and souvenirs – like the dog sled and oxygen mask he used to reach the North Pole and Mount Everest in the 1970s. He was the first Italian to ever summit Mount Everest, and for that, he was made a Count. He seemed like such an adventurous, intelligent, and cool guy. I left wishing I had been friends with him.

The seemingly small building in the picture? That's not even the villa...that's just the loggia used to store his expedition maps and unprecedented collection of books regarding the Himalayas. More recently it's been used as a film set for Star Wars and James Bond movies.

In addition to the beauty of Lake Como, we also had several encounters with friendly locals which have formed our best memories…

Our home base was a quiet little town called Varenna.

We stayed in a guestroom at Villa Elena right on the main square.

Elena is a sweet old lady with broken English who told us upon arrival, “You have problems,

I fix it”. She also had Rick Steves’ family Christmas card hanging in her hallway.

On our last night in town, we wanted to buy a bottle of wine but all of the stores were closed. Elena marched into her little pantry and gave us her last bottle of wine with the instructions, “You drink this, then you sing”.

Duillo Riva prepares fresh gelato in Varenna every morning. One day we asked him if we could watch while he makes it, and he happily agreed. We met him the next morning at his shop and stood in back while he read from his “Bible” to mix the ingredients for coco, lemon and milk-flavored gelatos. Guillo’s little secret is that he uses a dash of 98 proof alcohol in the gelatos that require flavored concentrates. 

His best sellers are pistachio, chocolate, hazelnut and cookies. We tasted crema (milk-flavored) gelato straight out of the machine. It was the fluffiest and yummiest breakfast we’ve ever had!

Bellagio is a tourist-packed town, right in the middle of Lake Como, with big hotels and lots of shops that perfectly cater to hordes of middle-aged women.

While we were walking the streets, the plastic on my beloved Brazilian Havaianas flip flops snapped right in half. There I was stranded in Bellagio with only one shoe! While Steve was trying to MacGyver some sort of fix, a local jewelry shop owner observed what was going on and sprung into action. He whipped out a lighter and began melting my flip flop, which gave me a temporary fix long enough to get back to the docks. Leave it to an Italian to come up with on-the-spot cobblering.

That’s a little of what you can expect from the friendly people of Lake Como. I can promise you none of this would have happened in South America.

Le Tour de France

Aside from Machu Picchu, the Tour de France has been the second most carefully planned portion of our trip. This year’s route was announced back in October and we immediately picked which stage we wanted to see and started making plans to be there.

We knew that we wanted to be at a mountaintop finish, so we decided on Stage 11 in the Alps. This stage started in Albertville – home of the 1992 Olympics – and ended in the ski resort of La Toussuire. It’s funny…for as much effort as we put into being at the right place at the right time, we had no clue what we were getting ourselves into. Spectator information online is pretty bare bones. We set ourselves up as best as possible with a car, maps, and food, and then we winged it from there.

The night before, we drove into the Alps and began curving up the final climb to seek out the perfect place to watch the next day’s stage. On the ride up, we were extremely anxious to see how it would all play out. There were lots of camper vans and cars already parked along the course, but we were relieved that there were still some good spaces left. We picked a spot 4.5 kilometers from the finish line above three hairpin turns. Even on climbs the riders go by so quickly; the hairpins ensured we would see them at least 4 times from one vantage point.

The weather had been so hot for the last month that we completely forgot it might be cool in the Alps. We spent a cold night sleeping in our little rental car along the course.

By the time we woke up the next morning, the kilometer markers were being constructed and loads of amateur cyclists were riding the climb. We walked up to the finish line to check out the scene.

By Tour standards Stage 11 was short (140 kilometers or 87 miles), so the riders didn’t start until 1:30pm. An hour before they arrived, the team buses plowed their way through and then a publicity caravan threw out swag to the spectators.

At about 5:45pm, the fleet of helicopters flew over the mountain and the first rider appeared around the hairpin.

Because Stage 11 had 4 big climbs, and we were watching from the last one, there was plenty of time for the peloton to spread out. This allowed us to see each of the riders better.

Sort of...

Imagine watching the Super Bowl on a big screen TV from the comfort of your couch. Now imagine watching it from the top row of the stadium. The Tour de France is kind of like that...but even worse. Being there in person is thrilling and incredibly memorable. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You also don’t see very much of it.

These men are amazing athletes and they bike up alpine passes at speeds that I wouldn’t even dream of hitting on a flat road. We had also just spent the last 24 hours sitting on top of a mountain without Internet or TV or radio to keep us updated. When the lead pack goes by, you want to cheer, run and scream. You're also trying to process which order the riders are in, which team's jersey they have on, and you want to peer into the team directors’ cars all at the same time. It’s just impossible.

My favorite rider, Frank Schleck, came through about 20 seconds after the lead pack. He was all by himself…my perfect opportunity!

My plan was to run after him yelling something clever that I would think up on the spot. But I was so excited to see him, that I forgot to run and just sort of pranced after him with a huge grin on my face.

By the time the leaders were gone, we had become veteran spectators and could relax a bit as we watched the other cyclists whiz by. We saw Americans Levi Leipheimer, Tyler Farrar and George Hincapie. I yelled at George so loudly that he looked up and we made eye contact. Oh yeah.

The final rider came through about 40 minutes later, and then sadly, it was over just like that. We were having so much fun that we were really sad to leave.

Now having been at the Tour in person, we will savor our future opportunities to watch Phil Liggett call the shots in English from our big screen television. If we ever go back to France to see the Tour again (and we hope we do), we will equip ourselves with a camper van, a TV and a method for streaming English coverage.

There have been many times during the last 5 months that I’ve turned to Steve and said, 

“I miss my bike”. Being back around all of these cyclists has felt great. It also felt like a truly international event…much more so than Carnival. We met people from Norway, Australia, New Zealand, Madagascar, Great Britain, Sweden, America, Spain, and of course France.

When we picked Stage 11 back in October, there was no way we could have known that it would fall exactly on Day 162 of our trip…our half way point. There couldn't have been a more perfect way to celebrate. We’ve dreamt for years about doing a RTW trip like this, but for even longer, we’ve dreamt of coming to the Tour de France. So I guess you could say that Day 162 was a dream come true…within a dream come true.

Provence

From Cannes and the French Riviera we turned north and drove into the region of Provence.

Grasse is a really bizarre town that we would not recommend. The one thing it does have going for it is that it’s the perfume capital of the world.

We toured a perfumery called Fragonard and learned a lot about what goes into making fragrances. For example, every perfume has a combination of between 50 and 250 different essences. Just like a sommelier is to wine, a “Nose” is a person who is highly skilled at smelling scents. There are only three Nose schools in the world – one in Grasse, one in Paris, and one in Versailles. The curriculum consists of 2 years of theory and 7 years of practical work. There are only 50 Noses in the world, and the majority of them hail from Grasse.

After that we drove west to a more upscale town called Aix-en-Provence or simply “Aix”. It’s full of restaurants, students and fountains.

They have such strong winds that the bell towers are made out of wrought iron so that the wind can just blow right through. Each of the towers looks like it's topped with a bird cage.

Aix is also where we learned that the good luck charm of Provence is, of all things, the cicada! We have very vivid memories of when the cicadas swarmed Ohio in 2004, so we found this quite funny. What is one country’s annoyance is another country’s reverence.

From Aix it was onto Avignon set along the Rhone River. Avignon is the French “City of the Popes” where the Popes fled when leaving the corruption of Rome in the 14^th century. We unknowingly booked ourselves into this town during the largest performing arts festival in France. Over 21 days 7,000 entertainers come to Avignon to present 1,200 different shows totaling about 25,000 performances. The only thing equaling the number of performances is the number of posters covering every square inch of the city. This pretty much defeats the purpose because there are so many posters that they’re all a blur.

The festival is prime time for France’s eclectic group of street performers. They work the streets morning, day and night. Within a 20 minute span we saw ballet dancers, rappers, an Asian pop group, break dancers and marionettes.

Even though we hadn’t planned to be in Avignon for the festival, we tried to make the most of it. Unfortunately that was difficult because the 25,000 performances are primarily in French. What to do when you only know about 6 French words? See a mime! The show we went to was sort of like a mime, but he also made all of his own sounds effects with his mouth. We were sitting front row center, and before the show started, Steve asked me if I was worried about being picked on. I told him that at least we would get our money’s worth. I totally jinxed myself because I ended up getting pulled onto stage and had to do all sorts of embarrassing stuff. I can officially say that I was the leading lady in a French play.

Our last stop in Provence was to the iconic lavender fields. It’s not like in the movies were the lavender grows wild all over the countryside. You have to go hunting. We started in a pretty little town called Gordes.

Just outside of Gordes is the Senanque Abbey with their picture-perfect lavender. 

 

Being in a lavender field is a multi-sensory experience. Not only is it beautiful, but it also smells so good and you hear a constant bzzzzzzzzzzzz. There are bees EVERYWHERE!

Early July is prime blooming time.

The mecca of lavender fields is just outside of the town of Sault. We counted at least 30 fields from this viewpoint.

 

We have enjoyed France more than we thought we would. The rosé wine flows like water. We’ve seen lots of smokers, pregnant smokers and cigarette butts covered in red lipstick. The French have some sort of obsession with sleepy kitten postcards. They also like old-fashioned carousels. We never did run into any sort of stereotypical French snobbery. On the contrary, everyone here has been super nice and helpful. Maybe it's the rosé flowing through their veins.

We also learned an important lesson about guidebooks. Travel writers can’t possibly take into account the places you’ve already been. They write discretely about the country at hand. We had a list of recommended cities to go see in Provence, but they were all full of Roman ruins. We’ve just come from Rome…been there, seen that. Once we ignored the book’s advice and started venturing off to find the lavender fields, the real Provence – the French one, not the Roman one – started to appear. 

Cote d’Azur

Our time in Italy is not over yet. We still have 10 more days to go, but for now, we have dipped into Southern France for the next week. We rented a car and crossed the border to spend a few days on the French Riviera. First stop: The Principality of Monaco.

Driving into Monaco for the first time is just stunning. It’s the second smallest country in the world (behind the Vatican) but lays claim to the most millionaires and billionaires per capita. In 1869, Monaco’s famous casino was bringing in so much money that the country was able to do away with income taxes. For this reason Monaco has become a popular tax haven for the fabulously rich.

The city is book-ended by two cliffs – each one claiming one of the country’s two prized possessions: the royal family and the casino.

Perched above the yachts in the over-the-top harbor sits the Prince’s Palace where the royal House of Grimaldi reigns. I toured through the palace and got to see the courtyard staircase where new royal princes, fiancés and babies are presented. This is also where Albert II (the reigning Prince of Monaco), and Princess Charlene just got married a year ago.

We also visited Princess Grace’s tomb, which lies with all of the other Grimaldi Princes in a cathedral near the palace. Only a church in Monaco would have an organ that changes colors like the inside of a limousine.

Finally we had read that there was a strict dress code and high cover charge to enter the world-renowned Monte Carlo Casino. Somehow we traipsed right in and immediately began playing some video poker before they could kick us out. It turns out that the casino has an outer wing for riffraff like us. The important people are in private gambling salons.

After 6 hours we zipped out of Monaco – having broken even – with another country bagged and big smiles on our faces.

We continued our drive along the French Riviera, learning that this section of land stretching from the Italian border to Cannes is basically one big metropolis. The urban sprawl never ends, but famous little town names pop up along the way.

Nice is nice. It has a classic long boardwalk lined with fancy hostels and clear blue water. 

My only qualm with Nice is the lack of sand. These rocks have to be positioned just right and even then they’re not remotely comfortable. Next time I’m in Nice, I’m either bringing an air mattress or $25 per person for a lounge chair.

Nice brought out our adventurous side…like eating anchovies and cliff jumping.

Hands down, Nice has the best nightlife of anywhere we’ve seen so far. And by "nightlife",

I don't mean drunk people at discotheques...I mean that people of all ages are simply out enjoying the evening.

Even at 11:00pm, the boardwalk was full, the rock beach was packed with picnickers, all of the volleyball courts were taken, and there were people still swimming in the ocean! I’m not sure I would have needed a second day in Nice, but I could have done for several more nights.

Our last stop along the Rivera was in Cannes.

We stood on the red carpeted staircase leading up to the Palais du Festival – the site of the annual International Film Festival in May.

We cruised the strip full of palm trees, Lamborghinis, and lots of people trying to prove how wealthy they are.

The best part of Cannes was what we discovered at the beach…real sand! We were in heaven.

Due to the French Rivera’s proximity to Italy, the influences have been surprising. If people weren’t speaking French, we would easily forget which country we were in. In fact when it comes to food, there have been a lot of stereotypical Italian things that we never saw in Italy but we have observed them in France! We've seen a storekeeper making fresh pasta by hand and a man tossing pizza dough in the air. Restaurants serve olive oil and balsamic vinegar with bread (this is not really Italian). Paninis look like paninis. And I hate to admit it, but after 2 weeks of intense taste-testing, the best gelato I’ve had so far has been in Nice.

Our tans are back in full-force and we have really enjoyed our time along the Cote d’Azur.