Saturday

If it’s Saturday this must be Italy. We drove right across the south coast of France and through Monaco today. We knew we were in France because the language changed at the toll booths and the toilets and food deteriorated. We knew we were driving through Monaco because of the Porsches and tunnels that you always see in films. There was the odd glimpse of sea as well. Into Italy, the tunnels continued but we couldn’t understand a word on the signs any more.

456 miles later we thankfully arrived in our stop over hotel in Arenzano after forking out enough Euros in toll charges to pay the combined national debts of southern Europe. We had a scout around the town having eventually found our way through the back streets (through the old door in the garden centre under the autostrada sign – who’d have thought it?) to the sea front. Not that you could actually see much of the sea from the promenade. Even the front line bars looked out onto the road.

So we sipped a couple of drinks overlooking the petrol station before finding a lovely little restaurant a couple of streets back. No prizes for guessing what we had. Pizza, of course. This is Italy.