Day Thirteen: The Protest In Annecy.

Here is the First Amendment to the US Constitution in its entirety:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Yesterday was a national day of protest here in France and I got to watch it up close and personal, as they say. I was profoundly shocked and disturbed by what I saw. Why? Not because the people here were marching and sounding off about their grievances against the government, but because it made me realize that nothing like this could EVER take place in the United States any more without squadrons of riot police carrying rifles, batons and tasers or without massive arrests. And WE claim to be the land of the free!  Hogwash.

I watched about 10,000 French citizens take to the streets under the watchful eyes of perhaps a dozen policemen within my view. Some of the protesters lit highway flares and were whipping up the crowd amidst a display of fire and smoke. The cops just observed. No official action was taken.

How is this possible? In America, we are required to obtain a parade permit before being allowed by our government to stage such a demonstration. In France, the organizers simply notify the government in writing of the date and time of the demonstration and the route it will take. The government then dispatches the police to close off the necessary roadways at the appointed hour. Try THAT on Pennsylvania Avenue or Main Street, USA.

In France, the protests are not confined to "designated protest zones", chain link fence enclosures miles away from the seat of power. Such a thing would be thought of as ludicrous in France. Bear in mind that the writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau were a powerful influence on the men who constructed our Constitution, along with such kindred spirits as John Locke. "Liberal," in the political sense, means nothing more than that the people own the country and the government and not the other way around. And yet, in America today, "liberal" is a term of scorn and derision. How far downhill we have traveled from the lofty ideals upon which our nation was founded.

It is popular these days to disparage France. Many Americans think of the French the way Bart Simpson phrased it: a nation of cheese eating surrender monkeys. Our disdain for the French stems from their refusal to participate in America's criminal misadventures in Iraq over the past decade.

Yet we could learn much from France, especially when it comes to the people exercising their right to express displeasure at the machinations of their government. A free people should do no less. And so, let me leave you with one of my favorite cartoons of all time:

America is many things, but that doesn't mean we are the best at everything or even most things. If we refuse to see what is going on in the world around us, we do so at our peril.

Vive la France!

For pictures of the protest march in Annecy, please follow this link: A Protest In Annecy

Day Thirteen: The Dash From The Sea To Annecy

I awoke in Valbonne to yet another glorious day. The weather during my trip has been great and today was no exception. I needed to return my rental car by 2:45 pm. MapQuest said it was a 5.5 hour drive along the Auto Route, which would take me southwest down to Marseilles before turning north toward Grenoble and eventually on to Annecy. Since today was the date for a nationwide protest against the government, and since Marseilles is famous for its anti-government stance, Malcolm suggested the highway might be quite congested in that area, I looked on the map and decided my best route was from Grasse to Digne and on to Gap before rejoining the Auto Route near Grenoble. It looked to be the most direct and efficient way to go.

This is one of those cases were a dash of local knowledge can be very helpful. Little did I realize that the road I had selected ran straight through the French Alps!!!! Now, the Alps are littered with quaint little villages and awesome scenery, but driving in them is a little like tacking upwind into a gale against a running tide. It takes about 40 miles of driving to make 10 miles of forward progress. I don't think I have seen so many first gear switchbacks in my life! My target was to reach Grenoble by noon. I got there at 1:30. But, oh! What a fantastic journey it was!!

The drivers in this area are far better than Americans. I got behind one woman in a Peugeot 206 diesel who led me on a merry chase for better than a half hour as I struggle to keep up. I swear you could pluck ordinary citizens off the streets, stick them behind the wheel and they would beat les pantaloons off you and me. I was passed by electrician driving a work van at one point who sailed into the distance like I was tied to a rock.

The scenery was amazing. And so I had one hand on the wheel, one hand on the gearshift, one hand on the camera, one hand on the map and one hand in my lunch bag all the while. I apologize for the lack of artistic framing of the pictures I took along the way, but I knew by then that it was going to be a close race to get to Annecy on time and I didn't have time to stop.

All I had to do now was pickup the highway and cruise into Annecy. But somehow I got on the wrong highway. I was now headed to Lyon, which is about 100 miles west of where I wanted to go. I pored overmy map and decided my best alternative was to exit at Voiron and wend my way northeast to Chambery, where I could get back on the highway.

Now, the clock is ticking and I am back on a rural route through some mountains and lots of little towns with names like St. Guilliaume of the Fleur de Lis, St. Bernadette of the Blessed Valley and St. Henri of the Holy Sandwich. All cute as can be and all traversed at speeds approaching 15 mph.  Tick, tick, tick.......

At last, I steer back onto the highway. I have 20 minutes left to get to Annecy. I push the Aygo up to 150 kph, which is as fast as it will go. Tick, tick, tick...... Then I see a sign: Annecy - 88 km. NOOOOO!!! The game is lost. All those hours of pushing to gain time are for naught.  Curse words ensue.

But wait!  Here comes another sign.  Annecy is but 30 km. It is Geneva that is 85 km away!  I can still make it if I really, really try. I have to get gas.  A service area magically appears with no other cars at the pumps to interfere. I sprint to the office to pay and sprint back. I am back on the road and back up to 150 in no time. On the downhill parts, I see 160 once or twice. The exit takes me directly toward the bus station, which is where the rental agency is. I find a place to park the car and dash to the office.

I hand them the keys. They type some information into the computer. And they are smiling at me!  They are happy to have their little car back. I am happy to give it back to them. Everyone is happy and smiling and I feel like Sterling Moss at the end of the 1952 Mille Miglia when he found out he had won the race. What a great day this has been!

The photos from along the way, such as they are, can be viewed at this link:  Day Thirteen

Day Twelve: Cannes

I left Tocchi bright and early Wednesday morning at 7:00 am and picked up the Auto Strada outside of Florence. From there, it was an easy cruise over to France and I arrived at the place where I was scheduled to meet Malcolm Wood an hour early. So I followed the directions he had given me and managed to find his home in the village of Valbonne. And what a lovely place it is! It resembled the Tuscan villages I had become familiar with - a compact and tranquil place, compact and vibrant with activity in its narrow streets.

Malcolm then took me on a tour of Antibes and Cannes, where we walked among the rich and famous and saw the gorgeous beaches that line the Mediterranean. Antibes was just delightful, but I got the impression that Cannes was trying oh so hard to be hip and cool and with it. The people who hang out there are not the kind of people I had come to see. There is a charming old neighborhood at one end where the tourists and the wealthy never go. That looked more like my kind of place!

That night, we ate in the open air main square in Valbonne and had a lovely meal under a bright full moon. Malcolm regaled me with tales of his time in the merchant marine and his travels to virtually every port in the world at one time or another. He grew up in the Shetland Islands in Scotland and has Scottish burr that has been sanded down by the years away from home but it still delightful to listen to. He also has an encyclopedic knowledge of vintage race cars and race drivers. In fact, one of the cars I photographed at Il Campo in Siena a few days before was driven by two of his neighbors.

And with that, my voyage of discovery had come to an end. Or so I thought. Tomorrow was an easy drive north and back to Annecy. But there were adventures aplenty in store for me. You can hear more about that in tomorrow's post!

For photos from today, please follow this link:  Day Twelve

Day Eleven: Firenze And San Giamiano

I went to Florence at long last today with my two friends from Slovakia, Erik and Slavia. We had a great day, but I must say that, after the tranquility of Tuscany, the city life was a little jarring. Great architecture and sculpture, but too many people for my taste and too much aroma of exhaust fumes, too. I guess I have been spoiled by my week in Tuscany. It is one I will always treasure and I admit to being a little sad to leave here tomorrow morning at O-Dark-Hundred!

When I think of this trip, I think of some of my favorite John Denver lyrics: "I'm going to see some friends of mine, some that I don't know." I have made many friends in my travels so far and tomorrow I meet another internet friend, Malcolm, who lives near Cannes and was kind enough to invite me to come and stay the night with him and his family.

And so the adventure continues. Looking forward. Looking back. Is there anything more to life than that?

Ciao, Tuscany. I'll see you again someday. And the sooner the better.

For today's pictures, please follow this link:  Day Eleven

Day Ten Was A 10. Or Maybe An 11 !!

This was one of those days you wait your whole life for. A day that quickens the pulse, sharpens the senses and restores the soul.

My friend Francesco had a last minute change of plans that prevented us meeting up again, but was kind enough to suggest a proposed route through the Tuscan countryside. Moteroni d'Arbia, Buonconvento, Montalcino, San Quirico d'Orcia, Montepulciano, Castiglione d'Orcia, Radicofani, Pienza, Arcidosso. All are in or near the valley of the Orcia River and I found them all. Every one!  It took me 9 hours, during which I traveled all of 150 miles. The miles per hour average may be a little low but the smiles per mile quotient was off the charts!

This part of Italy is beautiful in a way that defies words. And so I am going to let the photos do the talking.  The weather was faultless - the sky a vault of deepest blue over the landscape without a cloud to be seen from horizon to horizon. The sun at this time of year slants a little lower in the sky, adding an extra measure of contrast and shadow to the scenery, which stands out in bold relief against its warming rays.

But this part of the world has something else very special: roads that virtually dare you to drive them well. Hell, the double dog dare you! And I was happy to take up the challenge. They slither across the land, swooping and plunging from the hilltops into the valleys and back again. Your hands are constantly moving over the wheel, your feet dancing across the pedals, and straights, when there are any, are measured in meters, not miles.

Francesco told me the roads the would be the highlight of the day and he was so right. Never, ever in my life have I encountered so many wonderfully twisty roads that seem to go on forever. Oh, how I wish I had packed my Miata in my suitcase!

But my el cheapo Toyotoa Aygo was actually quite equal to the task. The suspension is quite competent. It doesn't roll over onto the door handles in curves like a '49 Buick would have. The steering was accurate and the brakes powerful. There were times when I finished a downhill run and paused by the side of the road to take a photo when I was enveloped in the aroma of wild herbs and hot brakes. To a car guy, nothing smells sweeter!

As I was going over the photos this morning, the excitement of yesterday filled me anew. It was, in sum, just a great day. You can share the Tuscan experience by viewing the photos at this link: Day Ten

Day Nine: A Trip To The Beach

It's funny how we have wrong ideas about other parts of the world. I always thought the Mediterranean was sort of like Long Island Sound. There was Europe on one side and Africa a few miles away on the other side. I thought you could probably see one from the other. Wrong.....

The only way to cure these delusions is to go there and see for yourself. And that's what I did today. The beach near Grosseto goes for miles and miles. The water is warm enough so you can walk right in and it is noticeably saltier than what I am used to.

There was quite a surf, following a thunderstorm overnight, so I didn't do much swimming. But I did get fully wet and floundered around a little while the breakers tried their best to separate me from my swim suit. Such fun!

There was the obligatory sightseeing along the way home and a delicious dinner of sweet sausage and sauteed onions, together with a fresh picked tomato seasoned with local oregano. Delightful!

For all the photos from today,go to this link: Day Nine

Day Eight. Siena: Angels In The Architecture.

Saturday featured a visit to Siena, a medieval village situated on top of a mountain with a long and proud history. A rival of Firenze for 500 years, Siena is divided into 10 neighborhoods called contrado, each with its own flag, colors and mascot. Some of the mascots I saw were the snail, the fish, and the turtle. In the center of the city is Il Campo, which means literally, the field. For 500 years, since before Columbus raised anchor in Genoa, there has been horse racing around Il Campo. At the top of the city is Il Duomo, one of the most impressive cathedrals to be found anywhere in Europe.

Paul Simon wrote these famous lyrics years ago: He looks around, around, he sees angel in the architecture, spinning in infinity.... And yesterday, I felt exactly that way while in the presence of the angels, saints and gargoyles carved into the front of Il Doumo. Ir truly was an awesome moment.

When my daughter Kate was young, we used to amuse ourselves on snowy winter afternoons by doing jigsaw puzzles. One of our favorites was called Verticalville. The artist who drew the picture for that puzzle must have visited Siean. The streets are narrow and steep and all the good stuff is at the top.

Also yesterday, a road rally featuring old sports cars came through Il Campo between  11 am and 1 pm. There are few sounds more endearing to a confirmed car nut like myself than that of the open exaust of Bugatti race car snorting its way through these narrow streets and then driving con brio through the piazza and out the other side. I took a whole bunch of pictures of that event, but will post them separately for those of you who are not quite so passionate about automobili as I am. You can see all 300+ of them at this link: Nuvolari Rally

I really enjoyed Siena. It gives the visitor of what life must have been like when Italy was still mostly city-states, each one fighting for the survival of its own way of life. That people still cling to these hilltop communities amazes me. But they are everywhere in Tuscany - some larger and some smaller - but the sense of community they create is remarkable to see.

Enjoy today's photos at this link:  Day Eight