October 19, 1996

The rest of Italy was a blur of toll booths, passing cars and pavement. On the Autostrade we drove high on stilted bridges and, when we weren't on those, we were piercing darkened holes to drive through endless tunnels. On went the sunglasses, off went the sunglasses, faster then - well - the speed of light. France was a lot of the same until the first toll booth and then the second and the third, France's equivalent of the New Jersey turnpike - only nickel and dimeing us here was more like three- and five-dollaring us literally to death (100 kilometers cost us $10). So we got off and, with our overpriced Michelin Southern France map, we picked our way around the tolls.

Ah freedom! We could enjoy the French scenery, relax, travel leisurely through the back hills. Nice thought and free it was, but relaxing, no. At our new slower, much slower pace we got up close and personal with almost every stoplight Southern France has to offer. Frankly, if you've seen one moldy green flare into red just as your tires hit the stop line, you've seen them all. Outrunning them was not an option. Nor was outrunning traffic. Even during siesta time the streets are packed. The drivers are all crazy, all trying to race against time, beat the next driver away from the starting line. Why wait for green when pink will do. We tried to adjust to this madness, to cars that materialize out of nowhere, that grow on the road, squeezing between us and that timed green 'bomb' waiting, just waiting for our wheels to get close. At stoplight number 152, we caved. John rolled her to a new starting line and forked over 14 francs. "Make that to go please."

So France and our French francs whisked by before our eyes. Somewhere outside of Cannes, we took an exit (probably one kilometer shy of what we had paid for) and sought a camping spot. We found it high on a hill outside an area full of rich looking French villas. It was a lovely spot and we took a long walk through a forestry district of scrubby trees before collapsing. Funny how sitting in a car all day can be so wearing. In the morning we awoke to a gathering, lots of cars and lots of men dressed for a kill. Hunting season? Perhaps. Forget the teeth brushing, we were out of there. But early mornings do have their rewards and we were witness to a magnificent sunrise, red glow in high thin clouds. A loaf of french bread, a cheerful bakery girl's smile and the day was ours. How shall we spent it? Yes, on the highway.

Most the day was passed on grey either on or off the toll roads. After Sete we got fed up (John managed to skillfully navigate us into a maze of city streets) and we hit the 6 lanes again. Around 6 pm we found a great highway rest area, complete with water, a toilet and an outdoor cold shower (cold or not, this hair gets washed or it falls out). We perched for the night and John even did the laundry, stringing it to dry between the shower and a tree. We fit the bill perfectly for the French description of travelers as 'casual slobs'.

Staring through the windshield for hours on end can, out of necessity, lead to some interesting conversations. We've been discussing Europe. How it seems that traveling in Western Europe seems unspectacular after having been to places like Southeast Asia, Nepal and Turkey. Two Australians whom we met in a parking lot where we stayed in Italy actually brought up the subject. After traveling throughout South America, they found that Western Europe a great place to vacation but, that for long-term travel, it doesn't offer the cultural differences and challenges of some of the less developed countries. Perhaps if we had started in Europe we might be appreciating it more and have more desire to pull over and see the sights. Other than Florence, we've really only seen the roads.

But enough about what we haven't done. We realized early on that we can't do it all so why try. Our sights are now somewhere outside the continent, on a ferry that daily pulls passengers across the Mediterranean. How we long to be on that boat bound for Morocco. Alas - more pavement stands in our way. "John you wanna drive now? It's getting kind of difficult to write and drive at the same time."