Another day of rain and we’re starting to play the ‘Glad Game’ just a little too much. We’re glad we’re not in a tent. We’re glad we’re not on a motorbike. We’re glad we’re cosy and dry inside Eileen. We’re glad it’s not too cold. We’re glad we have our own loo. We’re glad we left that last campsite before the river flooded in; well it looked like it was getting close. When we left Fréjus, Eileen was sitting in 2” of water and to prepare everything outside Rodney donned the wet weather gear, jacket and trousers. He hasn’t worn the full set since we left Scotland. Meanwhile, I started to check the map to see if I could find any areas of desert nearby. We tried to think of something we could do on a wet day, crazy golf was out and cycling was definitely off the agenda. We spent a while at the supermarket stocking up for yet another long weekend and it seemed a popular spot, but we didn’t want to spend a whole day there. We could always embrace the wet and take up scuba diving, but neither of us really fancies it.
The drive along the coastline from Sainte Raphaël to Cannes is quite spectacular and there would have been lots of photo stops, if it hadn’t been pelting down. Rodney pulled over and braved the downpour in a few spots along the way, but it would have been so much nicer to see it under clear skies.
The first thing we spotted as we approached Cannes, were a number of surfers in wetsuits out in the wild waves of the Golfe de la Napoule, for some reason we hadn’t expected surfers in the Mediterranean. I read the guide book and was unimpressed to read that “Cannes is pampered with a luxurious climate”, “a ravishing climate” and “the absence of a tan is considered a sin”. Oh dear, not today Josephine… As we drove along the main beach boulevard into Cannes, we were surprised to see no traffic, lots of empty parking areas and, apart from the few surfers, there were very few folk about. There’s a film festival on; we expected to see the flags out, cafes full of people, shiny yachts and glamorous frocks. All we could see were empty restaurants, soggy boats and a few brave people strolling under wet umbrellas on flooded pavements. Must be lunch time, we thought.
Oh dear again. As we turned the corner by the Quai M. Laubeuf we came to a standstill and we’re still not sure why we weren’t moving. We heard sirens, we spotted a fire engine, a couple of ambulances and a few policemen, so we turned off the engine and wondered if perhaps a film star had fallen off her high heels and slipped on a zebra crossing in the rain. Then, as we turned on to the Promenade de la Pantiéro we found crowds, very wet crowds and a rather soggy wet red carpet going up in to a building. It took us over an hour to travel 1 km and then we sat outside the Palais de Festivals for ages, waiting for numerous official cars to go in and out, while the police stopped the local buses, cars and us. Rather than get frustrated by the hold-up, we got to see Cannes from our comfy campervan. We didn’t get wet and those two hours of moving through Cannes, would only have been spent in a soggy campsite on the outskirts of Antibes, which is where we ended up.
We’ve unfortunately been given the spot furthest from the shower block, laundry, etc., which are all at the top of a steep road near to reception. We both got soaked setting up camp and checking the facilities, but we have our fingers crossed, no, we have everything crossed, that the rain will stop…..tomorrow?
