GORBIO AND ROQUEBRUNE

I would like to clarify one matter before launching into this posting: in the very first posting of this blog titled "Frollicking in France", I described a hike in Fanghetto, Italy. I posted two pictures of a mill and was unsure whether it ground flour or olives. I have just been informed by my friend Jannis that this tool was used to grind olives to make olive oil. Now that this is cleared up, I can move on :)

As a final hike to embark on before I departed for The Hague, Holland, we decided to do a walk that started in Gorbio and ended in Roquebrune which spanned about 5 km in length. I thought my family would moan and groan about my gung-ho hiking attitude but they were extremely keen. So, we zoomed off in the car to Gorbio [see below] through the mountains which was approximately six kilometres away from Menton. It was a gorgeous day (there is seldom a non-gorgeous day in this part of the world) and I was looking forward to walking this trail.
We parked the car in the main area of the town where there was a restaurant with a patio and a fountain. There was also a 1000-year old tree smack dab in the middle of the square - we simply couldn't resist a photo session with this tree [see below]. Before starting the hike, which was also part of the huge trail which runs from Amsterdam to Nice, we decided to explore the town of Gorbio. There is one rule I have adopted: I must always see the main church in any old village. The reason for this rule is that if I've seen the church, then I feel like I have really seen and been in the town. But this was no easy feat: the small village of Gorbio was a maze! The buildings are really tall and the roads narrow, so I lost sight of the church. I knew the church was located at the edge of the mountain, but it wasn't as easy to get to as one thinks. In addition to not being able to find the church, I thought we had also lost my uncle who was marvelling at the method of construction used in old towns. He eventually joined paths with us again :) The bonus part of "getting lost" in Gorbio was that I was afforded ample opportunity to shoot pictures [see below].

What struck me as very pretty were all the doors that I saw there: In any event, I finally sniffed out the church and we peered inside [see below]. This church was built in 1683! I understand that the churches all pretty much look the same, but it's my cardinal #1 rule which I cannot abandon (reasons for this rule are given in the above paragraph).

After this self-proclaimed conquest of finally finding the church in Gorbio, we set off on our hike. To be absolutely certain, I asked my uncle Gerard to ask one of the locals that the route we intended to walk was in fact the correct route. Gerard asked a friendly old man sitting on a railing if the trail was the correct one, but the man knew absolutely nothing and pointed in an entirely opposite direction! Forget about advice, we were going on gut instinct.

The trail followed a small road for most of the walk, but that was okay since there wasn't much traffic up in those parts of the mountains. At the beginning of the walk, the brush gave way to a splendid view of the rivera's coast [see below].Naturally, there were other gorgeous views too. If we looked westwards, this is what we saw:

All in all, it was a nice walk. My uncle enjoyed it immensely [see left]. It wasn't too strenuous and worth the view. The next day, my mother and I were to fly to Amsterdam where I would spend the next three weeks visiting friends and family (especially the father). We enjoyed a final meal at the Winter Palace, complimented by fancy French wine, and tucked in early to rest for the next day's hectic events.

We woke up on time, however, we had a late start leaving Menton. My uncle was driving to the airport as fast as he could, but I was still convinced we were going to miss our plane. It was 8:45 a.m. Our plane was leaving at 9:30 a.m. and we weren't even at airport yet! I felt nautious. When we finally arrived at the airport, we were overyjoyed to discover that the plane was delayed for 45 minutes. After checking our luggage in, we treated ourselves to a cappuccino and a pain-au-chocolat (a chocolate-enhanced croissant). I will conclude this posting by posting a picture of a 40,000 euro (approximately $60,000 CAN) cell phone which was for sale at the Nice airport [see below]. I didn't have time to discern if the phone was made out of platinum or had gold push-buttons, but I came to one conclusion: I would never spend 40,000 euro on a cell phone.