The Hox­ton Hotel (‘the urban lodge’) in Lon­don recently had a sale, where a lucky few could purchase rooms for £1 a night or £29 a night. Most came away with nothing, but Sam was lucky enough to not only get a room, but two con­se­cu­tive nights on the wee­kend of her birth­day! Fantastic!

Said wee­kend star­ted last Fri­day, we each took the day off and took our quick and usual route into the cen­tre; mee­ting outside Lei­ces­ter Square, cases in tow, ready to be tou­rists for a cou­ple of days. After apple juice and lunch in St James’ park we took the Northern Line to Old Street and chec­ked in, elec­tri­fied by the overwhel­ming tren­di­ness that is both the hotel and surroun­ding area. 

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Ah, its been a week now since I retur­ned from the US, UTAH and the West­gate Resort in Park City. I’ve just about reco­ve­red from the 7 hour time dif­fe­rence, which was com­poun­ded by a 24 hour day of tra­ve­ling inc­lu­ding a harro­wing down the moun­tain drive in heavy snow, two flight con­nec­tions (Detroit and Min­nea­po­lis) and a 2 hour coach trip from Heath­row back to St Albans. I’m also not a Mormon.

Hea­ding over appea­red easier on paper, short flight to CDG, Paris then an 11 hour Air France flight to Salt Lake City (do not go to the Tra­ve­lodge near Heath­row and cer­tainly do not taste their food — if you must there is a nicer loo­king pub just around the cor­ner). Loo­king online befo­rehand we noted the movies we wan­ted to watch, etc. Unfor­tu­na­tely the flight was with an Air France part­ner, Delta, without a sophis­ti­ca­ted in flight enter­tain­ment sys­tem — ins­tead giving us in the aisle airings of the awful “Little Miss Pet­ti­grew Lives for a Day” and “Kung Fu Panda”, lea­ving 7 hours to spare. No doubt the com­pli­men­tary Kro­nen­bourg 1664 hel­ped the trip go a little fas­ter. All in all it felt like a short haul flight — just really really long. Lea­ving the dull Lon­don 12C we were trea­ted to a bas­king 88F on arri­val, where we pic­ked up our 4x4 Suzuki ren­tal and pro­cee­ded towards Park City in the mountains.

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As with our trip to Sozo­pol, Bul­ga­ria, I’m taking a quick moment out of a few days to recant our recent tails. Those lucky enough to find this rare and valua­ble hard copy will note the delight­ful Moly­vos image on the front of this book.

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Here I am in Bul­ga­ria on our first warm eve­ning (Mon­day). I have deci­ded to write this blog entry as I go so that at the end of it all I won’t have to spend fore­ver trying to recall all the fine little details. My girl­friend and I, who I shall from hereon refer to as Samantha, caught a flight from the over-secure queue ridd­led Gat­wick air­port via Thomp­son holi­days, to Bour­gas air­port — a large city on the black sea coast in Bul­ga­ria. From here we tra­ve­lled by taxi through thun­de­rous down­pours to the old old town of Sozo­pol (610 BC) and its spraw­ling new town Harmanite. 

Lan­guage barriers are high over here, I speak a little French and Sam speaks some Ger­man. The local ton­gue seems to be an odd amal­ga­ma­tion of Ger­man, French and Rus­sian — most signs occur both in English and Cyri­llic alpha­bets. This meant that sho­wing our dri­ver where the hotel ( Hotel Dia­manti, ***) was — sans address, with a poor map in low light and he, without his glas­ses, pro­ved dif­fi­cult. The laby­rinthine cob­bled streets see­med alien and the des­ti­na­tion far away and hid­den. When hope was run­ning thin, out of the dark and from nowhere the large Rus­sian “Dia­manti” sign affron­ted us. And so we are here suc­cess­fully. The ame­ni­ties are as stan­dard — beds, sho­wer, sate­llite TV, air con­di­tio­ning and a bal­cony with slight sea view. 

After a good nights sleep came the crashing sounds of Satur­day mor­ning and the dust bin men ratt­ling over the cob­bles with their whee­lie bins. The weather was still over­cast. We set out on our tour of the town; lea­ding north then west (along the top of Sozo­pol) past the har­bour and naval base. Old boats rus­ted and ye-olde Rus­sian cars rolled by. Many of the buil­dings here were half built and the area see­med unsightly in the murky weather — suf­fice to say this wasn’t the grea­test of pla­ces to start. We tur­ned left into the cen­tre of town and pro­cee­ded past the mar­ket stalls selling jewe­llery, art work and fake Armani for 5 lv. 

There’s a slight wind at the moment, a boat is chug­ging past and the Cica­das are sin­ging. The odd glitch sound of a pas­sing bat is com­mon and the light-house on St. Ivan’s is boo­ming. The stars are bright and Sam is attemp­ting a fien­dish sudoku with a deter­mi­nis­tic fer­vour on her brow whilst chom­ping on her pen 

But back to Satur­day — our day saw the explo­ra­tion of cen­tral old Sozo­pol before lunch. Old han­ging buil­dings of wood and pane­lling aside newer stone hou­ses, simi­larly overhan­ging with orange cera­mic roof tiles. All the streets are cob­bled with a semi cir­cu­lar pat­tern and they intert­wine see­mingly at ran­dom. The shops give a limi­ted selec­tion of pro­ducts — there are the cloths and tou­rist shops alike with bar­gai­nous deals, nume­rous cafes and food out­lets — each selling potato crisps, bis­cuits and alcohol — lots and lots of alcohol. We have in fact not yet loca­ted a good source for fresh bread — it seems to be a rarity and we can only find a pecu­liar rub­bery brand. 

For lunch we stop­ped at a horrid food place that can be like­ned to a Bri­tish greasy spoons caf’. We had our pizza and chic­ken for 6.60lv and swiftly retur­ned home. After a nap and a little sort out we hea­ded south and then west towards the first of Sozopol’s two beaches. We pas­sed the elderly ladies selling lace and home made Jam (as men­tio­ned in the Lonely Pla­net guide) and we came to a rocky outc­rop where we could get some good pano­ra­mic shots of the new-town and bay. In moving south we came across the finer parts of Sozo­pol  and a little alley­way that took us to a cliff side walk which ran via the city wall. Over­loo­king the bay the views are gor­geous and the aroma of fresh and trod­den fruit from overhan­ging trees paved the way. This took us right along to the beach side and past many tine res­tau­rants that offe­red a view and the sounds of a crashing sea. 

The remain­der of the day and for a lot of Sun­day we explo­red “Har­ma­nite”, or New Sozo­pol; its cemen­ted hotels, aban­do­ned buil­ding works and tiny summer-only shops (gone since Sep­tem­ber) gave a quaint but cha­rac­te­ris­tic feel to the town. On the sur­face it is just an attempt as a tou­rist sprawl but the obvious dis­tinc­tion bet­ween wes­tern and east Euro­pean modern cul­tu­res is of some inte­rest where the pros­pe­rous and new dwarf the basic and poor. Here we learnt of day trips via a Bulgarian/Russian man too busy run­ning his busi­ness to talk to his cus­to­mers. Sam also met a char­ming Rus­sian fellow who was happy to have it poin­ted out that his bag had been left open. 

Sun­day was over­cast again but today the clouds clea­red and we awoke to clear skies and a warm sun. Hea­ding into town to catch a mini­bus day trip to Ropo­tamo nature reserve and river was our best option. Out friendly dri­ver — a fan of 90s trance music — carried us to the reserve and orga­ni­zed our boat trip with a newly arri­ved coach party from “Sunny Beach”. From here we chug­ged away at the front of an open-slow moving tou­rist barge. The guide boas­ted wol­ves and wild boars but we saw only wild and rare birds. Herons, Jays and Wood­pec­kers spec­kled the river­banks and many other unna­mea­ble ducks and wild fliers gra­ced the route — such as an all blue king fisher variety and large billed brown spe­cies. The hill views were asto­nishing and we were all happy to see the odd ran­dom fish fly out of the water. The sce­nery also remin­ded me of that seen in Juras­sic Park. 

We came home past a marsh­land and with­drawn 5 star hotel that loo­ked overly posh and intro­ver­ted. Lunch­time saw us eat at the “El Grecco” cafe above the bay — a selec­tion of freshly made dips and tuna cana­pes. The sun was now hot hot hot and the only thing left to do was spend the day at the beach. To the sea we went with towels and beach mat. The bay here is such that you can walk half way out and still have your head above water (which is of course lovely and warm at this time of year). And so the hours were spent fin­ding shells, cha­sing crabs, sca­ring fish and watching stray dogs play with the tide and each other. 

The GBP-BLG exchange rate is favou­ra­ble to the strong pound. At the time of wri­ting £1 is the equi­va­lent of 2.7–2.9 levs, depen­ding where you get them from. Herein Bul­ga­ria the face value of money is the same as in England, that is for 1 unit you could expect to purchase a coke or for 5 units a sin­gle course. Thus for a “bud­get” holi­day this is great — we can have 3 meals out a day and buy plenty in bet­ween. Our trip to Ropo­tamo cost us 40lv, only £7.50 each. 

And here is a good place to talk about the food! Satur­day night we ate at “Pano­rama St. Ivan” that offe­red an outside sea view of the island oppo­site our hotel. We ope­ned our ban­que­ting with a sha­red dish of shrimp, we snap­ped back their heads and suc­ked out their innards whilst rolling them in a hoi-sin like sauce or but­ter. This was accom­pa­nied by a sweet house white wine. For the main course Sam ate a shark fillet steak with salad gar­nish and I had a Wie­ner Sch­ni­tzel — an odd loo­king but tasty pork dish with pota­toes. All this cost us only £7.50 each.

For the same price on Sun­day at the famous “Via­tarna Mel­ni­tsa” (wind­mill) res­tau­rant we enjo­yed a selec­tion of salty fish h’orde oeuv­res inc­lu­ding Ancho­vies. For mains we had a sword­fish kebap — onion, mush­room, tomato and olive fla­vou­red fry/stew whilst Sam ate a Veal cut­let. For desert we had a sha­red ice cream with freshly coo­ked rasp­be­rries — deli­cious!! For wine we chose the Pomo­rie chardonnay. 

Tonight we ven­tu­red to Ksan­tana — a three tie­red cus­tom built house overlooking/hanging the sea. For the sta­ple price of 40lv or £7.50 each we once again ate like kings. Stra­ying away from wine we had a taste of other alcoho­lic offe­rings, a Bul­ga­rian beer — Zar­gorka and a fine cho­co­late liqueur and whisky cock­tail with creme. For star­ter we had chic­ken wings and frogs legs before moving onto a Pork fillet and beau­ti­fully ste­wed vege­ta­ble mix and a Bul­ga­rian Rab­bit cas­se­role. Now it is late and I must sleep so I can carry on with this fine holi­day tomorrow 

Part two and it is now Thurs­day — the day of Sam’s atro­cious bad luck. From the sun that came out as we went in, the rain that fell during beach time, the cakes that loo­ked deli­cious and tas­ted terri­ble and the 18:00 boat tour that left without us. At about 14:00 we rea­li­zed everything we would attempt to do would somehow go wrong (even the game of Pool did!), further­more we narro­wed it down to choi­ces Sam had made. She is now lying next to me reco­ve­ring from a bad dose of Shell­fish. So here is my chance to fill you in. 

On Tues­day things were once again blis­te­ring hot and beau­ti­ful; so as all good Bri­tish folk would do, we went to the beach again — for the day. Wal­king in the sea here you are inc­re­dibly close to the wild­life (unlike in Bri­tain). Around us we saw jum­ping fish and sea crea­tu­res alike. To round off our sun tan­ning beach trip we took a ride on a Pedalo for the lowly price of 6lv (£2) per hour. Cyc­ling out of the bay gave us some great views of the coast, inc­lu­ding the old Sozo­pol town-wall and overhan­ging res​tau​ran​ta​tion​.It also con­vin­ced us that taking the slide on the back of the pedalo and swim­ming in the sea was not the best idea as we encoun­te­red a num­ber of jelly­fish — both large creamy white and small and clear spe­cies. The suns warmth did not has­ten and suf­fice to say we are both now a gol­den brown — even Sam who has never tan­ned before in her life. For an early din­ner we chose to eat at the ‘breme’ pec­to­paht at the tip of the town loo­king out over the bay — the views were great howe­ver the food not so. Our sea­food salad, bacon and cheese ske­wers, gri­lled veg’, but­ton mush­rooms, “chic­ken delight” and cho­co­late pan­cake tas­ted pre­pa­red and manu­fac­tu­red — enti­rely horrid and the only saving point was the below ave­rage 27lv price. 

Wed­nes­day saw the weather turn for the worse, so the beach was out. This was the day of little shop­ping trips — liqueurs, wines, cho­co­late, woo­den sculp­tu­res, post­cards and the GREAT WOODEN SNAKE! For lunch we stop­ped at a tavern loo­king place with the word “Mexhana” over the door, there we ate a selec­tion of cold and sea­so­ned salami meats with chips whilst accom­pa­nied by two char­ming cats — two of the many that inha­bit Sozopol. 

For din­ner we chose our res­tau­rant well — we did not want to waste another eve­ning eating terri­ble food. This time we ate at ” Nep­tun”, another old esta­blish­ment along the Morski-Skali road over­loo­king the black sea. For star­ters I had a vege­ta­ble risotto and Sam had mus­sels in gar­lic, for mains Sam ate the pork kebapches (like sau­sa­ges) whilst I opted for the recom­men­ded “gri­lled bel­ted bonito” fish. And thus the fish came, it was whole — com­plete, head tail and all, but most of all it was abso­lu­tely deli­cious. My meal was lar­ger than Sam’s so she orde­red an extra shrimp shish kebap. For des­sert we had fig pan­cake (freshly made this time) and a nou­gat ice cream — I ended up eating both. All of this and a bottle of domaine boyar wine cost us 42lv (not 72lv as we mis­read). For me per­so­nally it was the best of the meals so far — it was a gam­ble that had finally paid off, con­si­de­ring I was par­ti­cu­larly wary of the con­cept of giving someone a whole fish to work through. 

Part 3 now and here I am on the plane home — wri­ting the final chap­ter in the Sozo­pol entry for my blog, on pen and paper that is. I am now amongst the fat and yob­bish Brits that come for the sun and cheap booze at Sunny Beach & Gol­den Sands — they are a delight­ful bunch, spor­ting white jog­ging bot­toms, gold jewe­llery and the latest foot­ball strips. 

To carry on from where I left off, Thurs­day eve­ning saw us eat at the recom­men­ded fish bar,“Kirik”. For star­ters we opted for the Bul­ga­rian mus­sel and mus­tard spe­cialty (after they told us they had no black sea crab) and chic­ken wings. As Sam was ill and I felt a little under the weather we opted for two non-fish dishes; the mixed grill and meat­balls and cheese with sau­teed pota­toes as mains. Our palet­tes were mois­te­ned by a Tra­mi­ner white from the Tra­go­vishte pro­vince. All this set us back 37lv. 

And onto our final day in Bul­ga­ria — it ended as it had began — with rain and lots of it. We sta­yed in and pac­ked for the mor­ning whilst watching CNN’s terri­ble news cove­rage and wishing for the BBC. By lunch time we were bored so hea­ded back to “Kirk” to try their infa­mous fish dishes now that we were fee­ling bet­ter. This time Sam ate the red mullet whilst I opted for the Zar­gan — a long thin fish with a blue spine. Sam also tried the “but­ter­milk” drink which she had seen others have, it tas­ted like some obs­cure liquid cheese/bitter yogurt and was promptly pushed away. 21.50lv this all costs us and the fish was fantastic.

The rain didn’t let up but this didn’t deter us from one final shop­ping tour and photo spree. I have offi­cially been drag­ged through and around every shop in the old town. When finally my legs gave way we retur­ned to the hotel to finish pac­king before having a card game of head-to-head Texas hold ‘em and a variety of “strip jack naked” incor­po­ra­ting snap and other rules — we dub­bed it “Paul wins” three years ago. The kind hotel mana­ge­ment let us stay in our room until we need to leave — which is great con­si­de­ring our flight was at 23:45. We paid our dues and boo­ked our taxi before hea­ding out to the “wind­mill res­tau­rant” for our final Sozo­pol outing. 

Yes, here is ANOTHER para­graph about food — in fact this holi­day has been all about REALLY good food, cheap. We orde­red some more spe­cialty star­ters — a ser­ving of caviar and sarmi — vine lea­ves stuf­fed with mince meat with a side order of gar­lic bread. The fun didn’t stop there, for our main course we had the fabu­lous Pork Kawarma that came in a hot pot on a plate of oil which once igni­ted coo­ked the food on our table for us and a scrump­tious suc­cu­lent Sal­mon in honey dish. This came as we over­loo­ked St Ivan’s and the dis­tant hills lit up a bri­lliant bur­ning red as the sun set behind them. For des­sert we had the ice cream again. This was one of the grea­test meals I have ever eaten and it was the per­fect end to our eatery-summer Bul­ga­rian adventure. 

I guess I will now sit back and watch the rest of King Kong or do a Sudoku! Oh and here is a girl in a bag on the side of a van:

Hello, here is a fine wel­come to you all from me in my latest jour­nal entry. In this par­ti­cu­lar epi­sode I shall be tal­king to you about my holi­day to the French Riviera. Thanks to an impres­sive holiday-package deal my mum is part of, both I and my girl­friend were pri­vi­le­ged with ‘free’ accom­mo­da­tion at a four/five star resort somewhere in the world, after peru­sing the cata­lo­gue we opted for “Le Club Mou­gins” in the valley of Mou­gins, an area in the south of france, 6km north of Can­nes. It’s a covey, remote, old and rural region with very kind peo­ple and the luxu­ries of French living; a bou­lan­ge­rie, a frui­te­rie and a poissonerie.

On Thurs­day, the last day of March, I pac­ked together my things:

and hea­ded to my girlfriend’s house:

from there we hea­ded to Heath­row, caught a plane and flew to Nice airport:

We were gree­ted by a taxi dri­ver bea­ring my name, we were dri­ven 40km or so to our resort where we were met by a lovely French recep­tio­nist, he pro­cee­ded to check us in, give us all the details and told us our room would be ready at 4pm. (The time zone issues were slightly con­fu­sing, nor­mally France is one hour ahead of England, but this par­ti­cu­lar week England had chan­ged their clocks to BST whilst France had yet to do so, put­ting us on the same time, we didn’t rea­lize this for a while, then after correc­ting our­sel­ves and beco­ming con­fi­dent of the actual time, the clocks chan­ged in the night. Yay for con­fu­sion!). Any­way, to make up the time until 4pm, we deci­ded to look around the little village, the medie­val village atop the hill and purchase some food for our star­ving bellies. This was the view from reception:

We purcha­sed fine cheese from the super­marche and baguet­tes from the bou­lan­ge­rie and enjo­yed our first French meal on a bench in the sun. Con­se­quently, every­day we bought crois­sants, pain au cho­co­lat and baguet­tes in the mor­ning for petit-dejeuner and ate baguette, cheese (camem­bert, brie and finer more acqui­red taste chee­ses), pork sau­cis­son and Pou­lain dark cho­co­late for lunch. Tra­ve­lling to the top of the hill we were met with breath­ta­king views, thin windy streets, posh res­tau­rants, art galle­ries and a view of the mountains:

Need­less to say, we were happy with our choice. After spen­ding an hour in a little shop while Samantha chose a water­co­lour pain­ting of the region and admi­ring a modern art gallery we were shown to our apartment:

A one bedroom, full bath­room, half (well-appointed) kitchen, tv, ste­reo, dining area and bal­cony apartment.

Our first full day in the resort was a Sun­day, so rather than trying to tra­vel to any of the local cities we deci­ded to trek around the local region and head up the hill across the way from us which loo­ked to have a castle at its mount. It turns out the region was a splat­ter with rich peo­ples expen­sive villas, laven­der farms, stun­ning view points and a strong wind. We found an extre­mely remote little area to enjoy our French din­ner, sit­ting on a crum­bling old wall amongst wild flo­wers we watched over a view of local town Grasse, it loo­ked a little like this:

On Mon­day (lundi) we navi­ga­ted via the bus rou­tes to Can­nes, the city famous for its film fes­ti­val. We sif­ted through the streets, pas­sing the Ferrari shop and the Cha­nel shop, we were shuf­fled away from the Palais du Fes­ti­val because they were set­ting up something big. We did get a chance to see all the famous film stars hand prints surroun­ding the com­plex, my favou­rite being Akira Kurosawa’s:

Dif­fe­ring from our weekly lunch time tra­di­tion only once, we ate at a Cre­pe­rie, first a fine salad, then a crepe filled with cheese ham and egg and to finish with a rich dark cho­co­late crepe. Here’s Sam enjo­ying her jam dessert:

After taking in more pic­tu­res­que views, the large docks and expen­sive boats, the blue peter boat and boat trip times we con­ti­nued upwards to the clock tower for even more views of moun­tains and the cityscape.

Tues­day was our day of quiet rest, we loun­ged in our room and enjo­yed the faci­li­ties of the resort, in par­ti­cu­lar the crazy golf course which had some impos­sibly dif­fi­cult holes, loop the loops and tun­nels. In the eve­ning we went for a spe­cial night out, dres­sing up we visi­ted the supre­mely posh res­tau­rants that could be found in the medie­val town of Mou­gins. We tried trans­la­ting the menus but soon just opted for the nicest loo­king, least crow­ded eatery with trees gro­wing through the roof, much like the image shown above. The meal was abso­lu­tely deli­cious and per­fectly coo­ked and pre­pa­red. Sam ate escar­gots (snails) in a gar­lic & tomato sauce with a lemon gar­nished salad for star­ter whilst I ate a crab and lobs­ter dish. We orde­red the dry white house wine and for the main course I had a knife-slices-so-easily-through duck that you wouldn’t believe was poultry with a fine sauce, cour­get­tes, cau­li­flo­wer, strange potato cakes, cele­riac and more tasty sup­ple­ments. Sam enjo­yed the best-cooked lamb she had ever tas­ted and was posi­ti­vely enth­ra­lled by it, indeed saying so to the wai­ters. For des­sert she enjo­yed a cho­co­late sponge thing with vani­lla ice cream and real vani­lla pods. I had the pear soa­ked in a red wine with added cin­na­mon crum­ble. Our very expen­sive meal was extre­mely deli­cious and well worth the money.

Come Wed­nes­day and with it our first big trip, we tra­ve­lled to Nice by train from Can­nes. French desk clerks and store peo­ples always seem so much more help­ful than their English coun­ter­parts. Our pro­blems and worries at the sta­tion were all kindly sor­ted by the French desk lady. We made it to Nice in good time and spent the day wan­de­ring their streets, loo­king through the flo­wer mar­ket, pas­sing by the open air thea­tre and sea front casi­nos, thro­wing peb­bles in the sea and spen­ding money to use public toi­lets. At the far end of the beach we tra­ve­lled up to the top of a cliff where an old castle used to stand. There were public gar­dens, water­falls, pano­ra­mas and a fan­tas­tic view­point for watching the pla­nes fly in over Nice and land in the airport.

On Thurs­day we had a lie in and in the after­noon tra­ve­lled back to Can­nes for a boat trip to the offshore island St. Marguerite.

It was a quiet island with the only buil­dings being an old fort and the cham­bers where the man in the iron mask was sup­po­sedly kept. We slowly wal­ked around the island, taking in the mag­ni­fi­cent Carib­bean like qua­li­ties and fee­ding three kind and non-begging cats some of our fro­mage. Eucalyp­tus trees and pine trees ador­ned the land mass:

It just so hap­pe­ned, that in the week I was in France both the Pope and Prince Rai­nier of Monaco died. This put a slight dam­per on our trip to the impres­sive city built into a rock face, as did the over­cast weather. Half mast Monaco flags cove­red the city which we reached by train. The weather put us off visi­ting the exo­tic gar­dens and caves of the region, yet des­pite cir­cums­tan­ces we still deci­ded to visit the prin­ci­pa­lity. Firstly we had to find a public lift down to the bot­tom, this was no easy task; finally we found a lift and it brought us to the entrance of the hos­pi­tal. From there we were gree­ted by whor­des (sic) of press, camera crews and pho­to­graphers wai­ting for the prince to leave the hos­pi­tal, here’s my not so good sneaky pic­ture of a few of them:

We pro­cee­ded onwards and reached the prin­ci­pa­lity after visi­ting the clas­sic car and naval museums, the zoo and the mas­sive under­ground super­mar­ket. The super­mar­ket sold everything from live crabs, lobs­ters, shell­fish and shrimps to deep sea fish, pigs trot­ters and octo­pus salad. This must be under­wa­ter love. With even more wal­king we enjo­yed the village and sce­nes of the ancient prin­ci­pa­lity of the Grimaldi’s. As the rain spot­ted down we chose to visit the aqua­rium and life aqua­tic museum of Cous­teau (with red hat). Here are some images:

On Satur­day we retur­ned home via train to Nice. We enjo­yed the medie­val city of Mou­gins one last time, took some more pho­tos and bought some more sou­ve­nirs. At the air­port we wai­ted 4 hours for our flight and were exhaus­ted after carr­ying bag­gage everywhere in the hot hot sun. But we were trea­ted with mind blo­wingly beau­ti­ful views as we left Nice in our 767 plane: