Eight months old in Belgium

At an aire in Champagne a guy Steve met recommended visiting an area in Belgium, just north of where we were.

So the next day, Poppy’s eight month birthday, we drove north to the Ardenne/Wallonia area in southern Belgium. It was full of beautiful forests and pretty, dark-grey stone houses with red geranium planter boxes.

We tried to get lunch as we crossed over the border from France, but all the cafes seemed to be selling were huge tubs of tabacco (maybe it’s cheaper in Belgium so people came there to stock up), so we cooked up a lunch of honey-glazed duck breast in the van in a forest instead. Poppy didn’t mind – she loved the chance to get out and practice her standing.

That night we stayed at camp site in the town of Bohan Sur Semois called Camping Des Bouleaux. It was right next to river with a beautiful stone arch bridge that had been partially destroyed by a World War Two Allied forces bomb to disrupt a Nazi supply route.

The camp site owners were absolutely lovely and were so excited to see Poppy, but I think we were a bit of a novelty as they weren’t used to campervaners like us.

Although the grounds were leafy, the bathrooms looked like they hadn’t seen a decorator or cleaner since around the time the nearby bridge was bombed and you had to have a key for the toilets (everyone got an assigned personal toilet) and showers, which you had to pay for.

Poppy loved our walk along the river because we saw all her favourite things: dogs, cats, ducks, horses and other young kids playing.

In town, Steve had a great local Trappist beer and I had a delicious apple beer at La Taverne Ardennaise. Poppy couldn’t keep her eyes off the stuffed wild boar’s head that was on the wall above our table. The ceiling was also full of hundreds of vintage beer mugs and a stuffed wild cat.

The place where we had lunch (its name in English translates to ‘The Good Old Times’) also had fab retro beer paraphernalia covering the walls. Apparently the locals, Wallolians, love a bit of cheesy nostalgia.

Four days to go in France

The countdown has begun. Unfortunately our three-month trip is coming to an end in four days.

We’ve decided to relax for a few days at a lakeside campsite near Amiens in the Somme area in northern France.

We took a random Steve-led route here from Belgium. Although Steve’s random drives are usually full of spectacular scenery, the trip here was a bit less gorgeous than usual. We passed lots of newish (AKA built in the last hundred years as opposed to centuries ago as we’ve become used to) concrete farmhouses, potato fields and scary amounts of electricity towers.

But, when we finally looked up where we were (we realised we’d done a bit of a loop), it all made sense. We had driven through areas that had seen heavy fighting during the wars, so that’s why there were no pretty, historic buildings left.

One place we drove through had a New Zealand memorial as New Zealand army men had liberated the town during the war. Later, closer to Amiens, in the Somme area, we saw half a dozen memorials to British, Canadian and other army men.

Ray in Chimay

We’d read that the town of Chimay was “the jewel in southern Belgium’s crown,” so we thought it’d be a good place to stay the night and explore. But, after all the other pretty towns we’d seen, Chimay didn’t shine for us as much as the glistening propaganda said it would.

The only memorable aspects of our time in Chimay were its trappist (an order of near-silent Benedictine monks) beer and an English character called Ray, who we met at the Chimay municipal campsite.

Ray came up to our van to say hi when he heard there were some fellow Brits at the site (someone had seen our GB numberplate and told him). With wizard-like long, white hair and a long, white beard, Poppy was entranced by him.

Within a few minutes of meeting Ray, from Portsmouth, we’d heard his life story: everything from his redundancy and his hernia to what he’s been drinking and eating.

Ray has been coming to Chimay for twenty years after coming across it by chance while hitchhiking. He was dropped off there by a driver after he had been camping in the woods.

Apparently the first person Ray met when he arrived in Chimay all those years ago was the person who organises the town’s parties and the next person he met was the head of the brewery. He’s never looked back and now, despite not speaking any French, says he knows most people in town, even the Chimay Prince, who lives in a chateau in the town.

Ray is so passionate about Chimay that he wants to set up a tour company there. But as much as he kept extolling its virtues many, many times, we unfortunately didn’t see the town the same way.

I still can’t believe that, after all the times we bumped into Ray, we still don’t have a photo of him!

All class in the Champagne region

After a few unusual, tiring days with Poppy (my Wonder Weeks iPhone app said it was a growth spurt period), Steve and I were looking for a place to chill for a couple of days. In our ACSI camping site guide I found La Forge: a five star campsite! They said they were in the “heart of the Champagne region” and had “100 per cent wifi coverage”! Perfect! So we headed there.

It turned out that the part about being in the heart of the region was a bit of a lie, but La Forge was a beautiful camping ground with historic stone buildings, a lake, water feature, live music, a jacuzzi, pool, bar and restaurant. I had the most delicious duck with fig compot at their restaurant and Poppy loved her swimming lessons from us in the indoor, heated pool. Steve loved getting groped and picked up by oldies at the bar too!

The next day, we drove through the more famous champagne area and looked for a France Passion vineyard to stay at. We drove into the stunning Champagne A. Lete vineyard in Damery, but unfortunately they were full! Our France Passion option number two, Champagne J. Charpentier, in Villers Sous Chatillon, turned out to be someone’s rather boring looking concrete home, not a pretty vineyard location, so we ended up staying at an aire by the pretty park with lakes in it at Villers Sous Chatillon. It was right across the road from the house of Champagne Robert Alliat , so we had to go in for a tasting. We bought a couple of bottles of their Brut Reserve, the cheapest but nicest champagne they had, and had a bottle that night overlooking the park.

It was very fitting that we heard about the birth of our friends’ daughter, Mathilde, in the Champagne region. Her mum, Meri, loves the bubbly stuff and was the one who bought us our invaluable shatterproof champagne glasses for our trip. We celebrated by raising a glass (or two) to all three of them. Poppy toasted them too (see the photo).

Breaking down in Beaune

On our way out of the Burgundy area, Hilde, our lovely van, became unwell. A warning light came on, so we drove straight to the nearest big town to get her looked at.

It just so happened that the next biggish town, Beaune, was on our guidebook’s must-see list. Perfect!

We drove all around the town looking for a mechanic, but when we finally found some, they were all closed for lunch. Finally, we found a Ford mechanic, parked in their yard and went off to discover the town while the garage was closed for lunch.

Steve and I had never heard of Beaune before I spotted it in our guide book, but it seems most of Australia and America have. The town’s streets were crowded with Aussie and American tourists. It was such a bizarre experience for us after being in tiny villages with almost no locals, let alone tourists, for so long.

We did a boob pad (for the leaky side of breastfeeding) and hairdresser tour of Beaune. We’ve never seen so many hairdressers or pharmacies per square metre in a town, but none of the hairdressers had time to cut Steve’s hair and none of the pharmacies had boob pads! Finally Steve found a hairdresser that could cut his hair, so Poppy and I went off to finish our boob pad tour (and see the rest of the gorgeous, historic town).

An hour later, when the mechanic was back, we got him to diagnose Hilde’s problem. He re-set her computers and said it was nothing that needed urgent attention (the French/ English technical speak translation was thanks to Steve’s google translate app on his phone). Phew!

The other fantastic part of the trip to the mechanic was that it was free! The mechanic didn’t charge us, even though he’d spent a fair amount of time working on Hilde and running diagnostic tests. Steve gave him 10 euros to say thanks.

Beaujolais to Burgundy

From Beaujolais, we took a Tour de Steve random route north(ish) towards the Burgundy area and ended up on some of the most beautiful back roads we’ve seen. They were dotted with revolution-inspiring chateaux, tiny towns with stone houses covered in climbing red roses, medieval churches and wheat fields covered in red poppies. Some of the roads wound their way through tiny streets just wide enough for Hilde to squeeze through.

Some of the loveliest towns we saw (Champagny Sur S, Bresses Sur Grosse, Messey Sur Grosse and La Rocheport) were on the D314 , D49 and D973 roads.

The Route des Grand Crus in Burgundy was also pretty, starting in the town of Gamay. We stayed the night at a vineyard called Domaine Rapet , built on a gorgeous chateau with a 14th century cellar, in Saint Romain. We had a great free stay thanks to the France Passion scheme, parked right next to the grape vines.

Water to wine: Evian to Beaujolais

Evian

On our way down from the French side of the Alps, along the stunning Route des Grandes Alpes, we noticed that Evian was nearby where we were, we thought we should go have a look at the town where the famous water is from. Steve joked that it would be a good place to fill up our water tank! Unfortunately Evian didn’t have a campsite, so we ended up staying at a campsite in the town next to it. On the map, the camping ground was right on the Lac Leman (Lake Geneva), which borders Switzerland, but in reality it was a long walk to it. We did enjoy lake views with our lunch the next day though.

Beaujolais

Steve and I often bought Beaujolais wine in London, so thought we knew a little bit about the wine. But it turns out we didn’t know anything.We got a wine education at the Chateau we stayed the night at, the Cave du Chateau de Chenas.

We did a France Passion stay at the Chateau, which was built in 1821 (a baby compared to all the other historic places we’ve seen lately!) The lovely wine assistant explained that ‘Beaujolais’ wines are the worst ones of the area, followed by ‘Beaujolais Villages’ wine. Must be why they ship these all to England! The best are the ‘grand crus’, including Chenas, Moulin a Vent, Fleurie and Brouilly. I loved learning about a new wine grape too: the gamay grape. It made me think of my Grandma, who we call ‘Gammy’, as one of my cousins couldn’t pronounce ‘grandma’ and called her ‘Gammy’ instead, so we all adopted that name for her.

Steve and I loved the Moulin a Vent, Chenas and Brouilly wines, so we had to buy a case and a few extra bottles to take home. Poor Hilde’s storage area is getting very full!

I loved the Chateau’s brochure, which bragged that their wines were “appreciated by the Princes d’Orange de Hollande, and by Louis XIII, King of France”.

The next day, at Solutré-Pouilly, where they make Pouilly-Fuissé wines, we had a great lunch and local wine at a restaurant that is mentioned in the Michelin guide. unfortunately we got there just as they’d finished serving lunch, so we didn’t get to sample the chef’s delights and only got an antipasto platter. We met some lovely French couples and their kids there though.  One of the women was so excited to meet us as she’d lived in Bondi in Australia and loved talking about her fantastic time there. Her little boy, who was about two, couldn’t stop hugging Poppy. Very cute, but Poppy was a bit scared.

We were a little bit disappointed by the Beaujolais area. After all the pretty vineyard areas we’ve been to on the trip, it just didn’t compare to the others. A lot of the houses in the towns were a bit more modern and made of brick and concrete so they were lacking the gorgeous factor. One town i’d read about, Saint Amour, was meant to be famous for its love-themed paraphernalia all over the streets, but there wasn’t really much at all – just a few love hearts as we entered town. I had been looking forward to some proper tackiness!

On our way out of the Beaujolais area, closer to the Burgundy area, we stayed at a pretty aire overlooking a historic church and vineyards at St Gengoux De Scisse, off the D82. Poppy made friends with some of the local horses so loved our time there.

In awe of the Alps

Tonight’s update comes to you from the Italian Alps. We’re staying at Arc in Ciel campsite in Morgex, with beautiful snow-dusted mountain views.

Last night we stayed at Lanslebourg Mont Cenis in the French Alps, on the border between France and Italy. Our spot in our campsite, Les Balmasses, was so stunning. It was the kind of place where you expect Heidi to come dancing down the mountain at any moment. Directly in front of us was a huge snow-capped mountain, blanketed by clouds and surrounded by sparkling blue sky. To the right of us was a babbling steam, full of glacial blue water. Steve barbecued up a multicultural dinner of Italian and French produce: sausages, corguettes, aubergines and miscellaneous meat wrapped in prosciuito.

The drive here, from the Italian town of Susa on the D25 road, then the D902 and D1900 through the famous French ski villages of Val d’Isere and Chamonix, past Mont Blanc, literally kept us speechless.

The snowy mountains against the bright blue summer sky look more beautiful than any photo can convey and the roads, past alpine wildflowers and meadows, were narrow with huge, deadly drops beside them, but beautiful. I’ll let our photos tell you the rest.

Barolo to Bra

Our travel book said Barolo is home to wine which is”the king of the Italian red wines”, so we thought it sounded like the perfect place to travel to.  And the book wasn’t wrong – the wine we bought from Barolo was amazing. Apparently Barolo wine – from Nebbiolo grapes, which we’d never tried before – is matured for at least three years or more, which is why the wine has complex, fantastic raspberry flavours and is expensive.

But Barolo was fantastic for more reasons than just the wine. The surrounding areas -  full of beautiful towns and stunning vineyards – had me acting like a paparazzi photographer, snapping millions of photos as we drove through them. I couldn’t take enough!

We stayed at Camping Sole Langhe, in Vergne in Barolo, a pretty campsite on a farm, surrounded by wheat fields. They even had hazelnut trees and cherry trees amongst the camping spots. The camping site was also great because we got to meet some people our own age – so rare at the campsites we’ve been to! We met a lovely Dutch couple, Gerbrand and Anke, and their son, Gus, who wasn’t too much older than Poppy. It was so cute watching Gus and Poppy interact with each other. We had a great night chatting with them and enjoying some wine. Hopefully we’ll see them again some time.

The dinner we had just up the road from our campsite was phenomenal. At the restaurant next to La Bottega Del Fornaio on Via Delle Viole, we had hand-made pasta that melted in our mouths and perfectly cooked meat and stuffed courgette flowers. The maitre d’ and waitresses loved Poppy, which was great because she left a trail of mushed up, half-eaten Ryvita crackers and breadsticks all over their restaurant.

The next day we drove through the pretty towns of Pollenzo and Grinzane Cavour, and stopped for lunch at the fantastically named town of Bra. The beautiful, historic town, with amazing pastel houses, is apparently the birthplace of the slow food movement. We had an unintentionally slow lunch (because we had a late lunch and the waiters were having lunch too) at Aqua Pazza Pizzeria/ Osteria on Via Cavour. Even though the pizzeria wasn’t anything special, the pizza and tiramisu were some of the best versions of the dishes I’ve ever had. I couldn’t believe that the tiramisu was the first I’d had during our time in Italy. I’d been seeking it out but nowhere had it on the menu!

Bra was also memorable because of our encounter with a local nun. The lovely lady stopped us on the street to cuddle and chat to Poppy and didn’t really understand that we didn’t speak Italian, so kept chatting to us in Italian. We think she was trying to bless Poppy at one point as she was doing a chant and moving her crucifix necklace around Poppy. But poor Poppy was a bit tired and overwhelmed, so she pushed the nun’s necklace away. Not sure the nun was very impressed. I think she think she thought Poppy rejected Christ!

Ciao Italia: St Tropez to the Italian Riviera

From St Tropez, we drove along the Mediterranean coast to Italy.

Just around the corner from St Tropez, past all the million pound boats, we found an amazing clear-blue water bay at Cap Estrella/ Agay for an afternoon swim. It had perfectly still water, so Poppy loved splashing at the shore.

To farewell France, we drove along the famous coast roads between Nice and Menton, past Monaco and Cannes. We mixed the journey up by driving along the highest cliff top road (the Grande Corniche), the middle road (the Moyenne Corniche) and the lower coast road. They were scary because they had such huge drops into the sea to the right-hand side of them, but nothing compared to the other terrifying roads we’ve driven on so far during this trip! The views out over the ocean and of the millionaire homes were fantastic. One of my favourite sights was a very posh looking man on an expensive motorbike with an Armani helmet. Classic!

As soon as we passed into Italy, there was such a dramatic change. The houses and towns were run down, but more rustic and lovely. The beaches were also less pristine looking and had a lot more deck chairs too. And there weren’t any cyclists! So bizarre after France.

Crossing into Italy, we tried to stay in a small town called Latte, purely because of its awesome name, but the sharp right-hand turn into the campsite required Hilde to perform van gymnastics that she just couldn’t do, so we had to drive on. We ended up staying in what could possibly be one of the narrowest, smallest campsites in the world at Vallecrosia called Le Mimose. But it was on the sea and didn’t require horrible turning to enter, so it was perfect.I was very excited about their showers – unlike all the French and Spanish campsite showers, this one didn’t have a button you had to keep pushing to keep it on. Ahh, the small pleasures in life!

Our second stop in Italy was at a badly chosen campsite (next to a rail line we found out later that night) called Marino at Diano Marino, the town next to Imperia, so that we could meet up with Aunty Heather’s boyfriend, Geoff. He works on billionaires’ yachts and was staying at Imperia harbour. It was such great timing that we happened to be nearby where he was working! We got a tour of the boat he’s working on and spent the afternoon and evening catching up. We had a great, very simple menu of the day 12 euro dinner at a mumma and papa pizzeria in Imperia. The owner loved Poppy and couldn’t stop cuddling her (see the photo below) and showing her the freaky 3D pictures of animals on the restaurant walls. As we farewelled Geoff, I realised we forgot to take a photo with him in it. Oops!

While we were lunching at Diano Marino, we met a lovely Italian grandma and her grandson who was about three months older than Poppy. She kept trying to make Poppy and the little boy kiss, but I think the boy was just after Poppy’s Ryvita cracker and Poppy wasn’t interested at all – she pushed him away. Very funny to watch.

Our last stop on the Italian coast was an area di sosta (Italian aire) at Finale Ligure for lunch. On the coast between the junction of Via Aurelia and Viale R Piaggio on SP1 road, it had perfect views of the beach nearby and the rest of the coast (see the last photo).