After a pre-departure Sebo clean-up and filling-up or freshwater tanks, Team Sebo hit the road once again. Having consulted Google Maps for the least twisting way back down (something we should have done before we climbed up here – Roy is still suffering from a single track, windy road, type PTSD condition, I fear!), we headed for Monaco. We hoped to find a Sebo-friendly parking spot in Monte Carlo BUT, naturally, this wasn’t to be. In fact, the one and only motorhome parking space in Monte Carlo was, on passing, occupied by a rather large silver Mercedes saloon car, driver in situ and not, apparently, inclined to move on so, following two laps of Monte Carlo, an executive decision was made to carry on to Italy, before Roy’s fingers would had to be surgically removed from Sebo’s steering wheel.
Monaco drivers, both car and motorcyclists, took us right back to Gibraltar. For the love of God and all that is Holy, WHY do you need to drive/ride in this Kamikaze fashion???? Idiots, one and all! Are you preparing us for Italy or what????
We left Monaco and, quite unexpectedly, were thrown back into French territory. Who knew? Shame on me, but I always thought Monaco bordered Italy…..it doesn’t! France retains a couple of border towns in Roquebrune and Menton (very pretty towns too, with nice beaches and promenades!) and THEN you cross the border into Italy!
Geography lesson over (for today!), we finally drove into Italy and arrived into Ventimiglia- a Ligurian coast resort offering unofficial free motorhome parking. So, here we are, parked-up a few metres from a shingly beach ( no dogs allowed, so Harley’s fairly hacked-off) and a short walk from both the Old Town and the more modern shopping area. Have to admit, as we drove in, neither of us were overly impressed BUT, having got out and strolled around both the Old Town and the newer shopping part, we’re actually surprised at how much we like it! Harley, in turn, is feeling all “loved-up” as, whilst we were hanging around outside Carrefour, whilst his Dad made a beer purchase, he was fussed over by several folk, all of whom had Retrievers at home – one lady even showed us a photo of her 4 year old Golden called “Patti”. I think he, actually, would have gone home with her had he been given the chance! Seems Goldens are the “dog of choice” here…..Italians clearly have taste!
Tomorrow, we’re heading inland, to Piedmont – Barolo country. We may even avail of the wine-tasting opportunities there – something we didn’t do in France or Spain!