Perpignan changing trains in cerbere on the ...
Trip Start Apr 01, 2001
89Trip End Ongoing
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Changing trains in Cerbere, on the Spanish / French border we witnessed another theft. This time the thief didn't even bother to run away; she just hung around the next person in the line at the currency exchange booth waiting to snatch their cash as well!
We made our way safetly to Perpignan where Jenifer met us at the station. Jennifer is a friend of Tonya's Mum from when they both worked at The White House about 30 years ago. That is the White House in New Bond St, London... not Washington D.C.
Jennifer took us to Coullieur, an attractive fishing village full of poets and artistic types. Tonya was reunited with Jennifer's children - Isabelle and Christoph who speaks fluent English and knows more about UK history and politics than the two of us put together.
Perpignan is a pleasant town, but doesn't have many sights, so it wouldn't have been on out itinerary had we not known people there.
The main difference we have noticed since crossing the border into France (and there is no polite way to say this) is that whilst Spain and Portugal had the odour of cigarette smoke, France has that of dog turd! There are turds everywhere... clearly the "Poop-a-Scoop" has not yet been released onto the French market. You see people walking down the street like Jack Nicholson in "As Good As It Gets", but they aren't trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement!
Everyone in Cannes was preparing for the Film Festival which wil be held here next week. Hospitality tents were being erected on every beach and buldozers were hard at work moving beaches to more convenient locations. We walked around the port and the cinema, but didn't get to see the handprints of the stars since that area was fenced off for the laying of the red carpet, removal of dog turds and general sprucing up.
Spent a day on the beach and Paul put his binoculares into action scanning for topless beauties. Unfortunately the only boobs he saw resembled those in that infamous scene from "Something About Mary".
Anyone who has been to Monaco will know that it is not well suited to backpacking - firstly there is nowhere to leave your packs at the station and secondly; the place is on a steep hill with all points of interest involving some serious uphill climbing. The weather was miserable when we arrived and we spotted a Noddy Train... As much as we would normally not wish to be seen dead on a Noddy Train it did have a cerain appeal... We would be out of the rain, and wouldn't have to walk up hills with our backpacks on.
Sadly, it wasn't to be. We spent the entire day walking around trying to find where to get on this stupid train - We did at least one lap of the Grand Prix circuit which had been marked out in prepararion for the race which will be held May 24-27. Paul kept running around shouting "Brrrrrummm, Brrrummm, Brrrrummm" - a side effect from all those years in Bermuda playing F1GP2 (a computer Grand Prix game) with Nick.
Tonya, true to form, decided she wanted to visit the highest point. Paul followed with her promise that "there is an elevator to take you to the top", and before we knew it we had climbed all the steps and arrived at the castle overlooking the city.
We both decided we had had enough of Fance and its weather - perhaps the "Sun Would be shining" in Italy...