Summer Time Sadness- Avignon, France

It was the first day of September which meant Summer time had come to an end. As we headed from the coast up and across into Provincial France the signs of Autumn were to be seen everywhere. Known for its endless lavender fields we had arrived just a couple weeks to late with all the fields stripped bare having been harvested for the season. Coming into the small town of Avignon was like entering a world of its own. Surrounded by its 14th century city walls, inside was exactly how I imagined a typical French town to be. 

In the period of 1309-1378 Avignon became home to French pope Clement V. He was the first pope out of a following seven to give Rome the flick and reside under the influence of the French Crown in Avignon. Causing one of the biggest debacles in the Catholic Church of that time. To fix the problem a second pope was elected to serve at the same time but to be based in Rome. Causing even more conflict a third pope was then elected to join the other two in hope of creating more balance. It wasn't until Pope Gregory XI came into power that a pope of Avignon was no more, finally residing back in Rome. 

The popes palace was an exquisite fortress to visit. It was splendid to be able to compare between both Rome and Avignon. Although the popes palace is not the worlds smallest country it was still an impressive kingdom being one of the largest medieval gothic buildings in all of Europe. The palace became a model for many architects who admired its tall heavy walls and impressive strength of its arches. The views from the very top of the palace were just as breath taking as the building itself, stretching out far and wide watching over the tiny picturesque village bellow.  

All the locals in Avignon were so kind and helpful. One day we found a little juice bar stall run by an over enthused French man. After welcoming us into his store he went on to play a fruit and vegetable guessing game with us both showing us countless different types in hope of tricking us. Impressed we passed with flying colours the man began telling us a story about when he was younger how he was just like James. Pulling out and dusting off an old photo album he casually had just lying around he showed us a dark wild haired bearded picture of himself of when he was twenty-one. He almost toppled over when he found out James was also Twenty-one and in all his excitement began taking pictures of his picture and then pictures of James in comparison. It was the most hilarious juice stop we have ever had and definitely the most purest natural juice we have ever had. 

On our last night we found ourselves nestled a few streets away in a little quirky french restaurant. With miss matched retro styled furnishings amongst a cluster of tiny tables. We opted to sit by the window under a display of pots, spoons and other random kitchen utensils hanging from the ceiling. The food was some of the absolute best we have had the entire trip, which is saying a lot after coming out from Italy. French onion soup, curried mussels, succulent steak and of course a great vegetarian option the menu suited us both good and well. Desert put the cherry on top of the cake, finishing with mouth watering frozen nougat and the most simple yet delicious pana cotta I've tasted. The French sure know how to perform when it comes to sweets. I had never left a restaurant so content in my life. 

Avignon is the perfect slice of Provincial French life. It has just enough history to keep it interesting without making it another tired tourist roller coaster.  Although I didn't have the opportunity to dance in its lavender fields it was still the perfect place to soak up pure French beauty. 

The Wanderer's Daughter xx

One Night Stand- Nice, France

As James threw me into the bus kicking and screaming, I was most definitely not ready to say goodbye to Italy. It wasn't until we had reached the glistening French Rivera that my attitude had a quick turn around. How could I forget my love for France. As we made our way past the dazzling country of Monaco in all its glory we slowly made our way along the coast into the city of Nice. After being in Italy for so long the change around me was almost a culture shock. The streets were orderly, everything made sense, the buildings were uniformed and placed out in neat rows. It was shiney, clean and made me feel instantly safe and at ease yet also somewhat inferior. Its glitz and glam ran through me like a drug. It made me want to throw and burn my pack full of clothes then grab my credit card and buy two of everything. Which is why is was probably lucky that we had chosen Nice to be our one night love affair. 

After the hectic endless site seeing in Italy it was nice and refreshing to come into a city where you didn't feel pressured to have to see and do certain things. This gave us plenty of time to stroll carelessly along the long pebble beach where we enjoyed the sunset over the city. We spent the first half of the night aimlessly walking in no particular direction exploring the different streets and finding ourselves in different squares. It was fun just to get lost amongst the beauty of it all. 

Meeting up with three Melbourne girls we befriended throughout our time in Cinque Terre (Jess, Elle and Scarlet) was where our night truly began. We headed out for the night to the only typical place you would along The French Rivera…an Irish Pub of course! Not exactly French but it was the perfect place to start the night, no frills just ridiculous amongst of tequila and drunken antics. Somehow we ended up in some funky little bar who had an amazing live band with a edgy reggae vibe that played tunes that made you want to just scream and shout and jump around to the lyrics. In that moment everybody was at the next level as the music radiated through us all, or maybe that was just the tequila.

You wouldn't say our one night stand in Nice was the most authentic French Rivera experience. Although we didn't sit by the boulevard sipping the finest champagne and dining in some of the most exquisite restaurants. To me there was no better way to spend our time along Frances flashiest coast line. There were no regrets as we headed off early the next morning, just pure excitement as I already began to count down the days until we would be reliving our crazy antics when we reunite with the girls once again.

Bring on Barcelona.

The Wanderer's Daughter xx

Where Your Treasure Is- Cinque Terre, Italy

Five small fishing villages spread across 18km of rugged coastline and unesco heritage National Park is what makes up Cinque Terre- Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza and Monterosso. Each town is a new hidden treasure all somewhat coordinated by their picturesque colour blocking facades yet all very unique in there own special way. 

Staying in the 'liveliest' town of them all, Riomaggiore, worked perfectly for all our wants and needs. Considering it was the largest of the lot it still didn't offer more then a local market store and a few tiny restaurants and cafes. The towns produce and food was extraordinary. When we weren't feasting on the local fresh seafood cones from the tiny take-out store we were cooking up our own feast using locally made pasta, pesto and cheese only to wash it all down with fabulous locally grown wine. I was in my finest Italian glory. 

Cinque Terre is most well known for its production of Basil which means that there is an endless supply of Pesto sold in every store and countless pesto meals in every restaurant. Without fail every meal would revolve around pesto. Pesto omelettes or crepes for breakfast, pesto pizza for lunch, pesto pasta for dinner and even pesto gelati for desert. Some days I would just sit there eating pesto from the jar just because there was no such thing as too much pesto when in Cinque Terre.  

We were excited to hear that the closest town near by and the smallest of all five Manarola was known as the food hotspot. After the amazing quality we had in Riomaggiore I couldn't even imagine it was possible for there to be anything more satisfying. Manarola is exactly how I imagine a fishing village to be with the main street lined with little row boats docked for the night along the sidewalk, its ambience was delightful. We dined in La Stiva and like promised the food was mind blowing. James went all out and opted for grilled octopus which he couldn't help but rave about for hours after. While I was more concerned about keeping the delicious local wine endlessly flowing. The way the towns houses were stacked by the seaside made it the perfect town to end the day and watch the sunset over.

The five villages are all linked by a 9km coastal trail. Due to landslides the tracks from Riomaggiore to the Vernazza have been closed for repairs. To walk the blue trail you need to buy a National Park pass to gain entry. We opted for the Cinque Terre Treno card which gives you a days of unlimited train and walking access. Heading to the furthest town Montorosso we planned to walk the three towns all the way to Corniglia. Monterosso for no real particular reason was my least favourite village. Its wide stretch sandy beach set it apart from all the other towns. Although its what also made it slightly more commercial for me. The walk from Monterosso is the steepest climb out of all the track which we did not find out until we were half way up the almost vertical track dripping from head to toe in sweat under the scolding summer sun. Once reaching the top of the rise the views out over the ocean were spectacular as we took one last look at Monterosso and how far we had already come made every step and struggle worth it. Trekking on it didn't get any easier however we persevered as we understood the bigger picture of it all. 

Turning the corner and being faced with the astonishing colourful Vernazza was a great feeling. Known as the gem of Cinque Terre I could already see why it was a favourite amongst the towns. Finally making our way down we treat ourselves to a pizza and gelati lunch getting ready to carb up for the remaining hike. Getting a bit to excited I decided to reward my hard work with a bottle of Cinque Terres finest Bianco vino devouring the bottle all to myself. Pushing onwards and upwards we continued on. Dehydrated from the alcohol and possibly slightly drunk I realised that I may have celebrated a little to early, but my weakness for wine was just to overbearing. Looking out over the peaceful ocean is what pulled me through all the way to the tiny town of Corniglia. 

Cinque Terre's second smallest town is perched all the way up the very top of a rocky hill making it the only one of the five that doesn't give you access to the sea. I found Corniglia charming with little laneway streets all running off into each other which was what also set it apart from the other villages. Along with Manarola it would have to be my favourite town, despite them being so small they were definitely the most characteristic. After a challenging long day we had finally witnessed the pleasure of each enchanting village of Cinque Terre. 

In the trekking spirit we couldn't go past another hiking opportunity. Up in the far mountain side of Riomaggiore lied another walking trail up to an old church. After concurring the three town trails a 45minute walk up to a church sounded like a walk in the park, wishful thinking. For some reason the words 'up hill' didn't really ring any alarm bells until I was pushing myself to my full extent constantly vertical for 45 minutes. Making it to the top the magnificent views we were graced with like always snapped me right back into overdrive. The tiny church sat there so innocently sombre, but the real highlight of it was the astonishing view that spread out across the ocean and out over all five of Cinque Terre's alluring villages. 

Our last night in Cinque Terre was also our last night in Italy. In celebration of the amazing time we had in this exquisite country we decided to have our last home cooked Cinque Terre pesto pasta which was the perfect meal to end our time. Uncorking our €10 bottle of chiante wine, that we were saving for a special occasion, on the rocks down by the water I was lost to the Cinque Terre spell. There was no where else I would have rather been at that exact moment in time. As the sun disappeared below the horizon in all its pink and orange glory it spelt an end to our Italian adventure. 

The Wanderer's Daughter xx