Happy New Year!

 Christmas passed in a blur, with none of the expected traditions punctuating it.

With no family to visit, there was time to explore Menton and the surrounding villages.

On Christmas Eve, we visited Sospel, a town that nestles between several mountains. Once an important stop on the salt route across the alps and later a resistance stronghold in WW2, it now sits quietly minding its own business. We enjoyed a three course Christmas lunch with the locals in the cafe and marvelled at the splendour of the cathedral. 

I missed my family but, on Christmas afternoon, Jean-Claude and Nicole included us in their family celebrations. We were invited to join them for dessert and champagne. Little did we know that there would be thirteen desserts (one for Jesus and each of his apostles)! 

No Boxing Day was a bit of a shock and, apart from the evidence of a lot of hangovers and tired faces, everything was back to normal on the 26th. Menton Christmas market was busier than ever, the population swelled by the many Italians who visit in the week after Christmas.

 

St Agnes is set into the side of a mountain, almost at the summit—it must be age that added vertigo to the feelings I experienced as we drove up the narrow road to the village. We had coffee looking back towards Menton and the sea, while the staff in the restaurant were getting ready for what was obviously going to be a busy lunchtime. 

 There are the ruins of a castle at the top of the mountain and just below, inside the mountain, a 19th century fort —the size of a 4 storey building. It is one of a chain of defences throughout the alps and part of the Maginot line in WW2. Unfortunately, it was closed— a visit to save for another day.

Ventimiglia, in Italy, is a stone’s throw away, so a visit to the market was always going go be on the cards. On Fridays it hosts a huge market along the waterfront but the daily market in the centre offered enough for a post Christmas trip.

The covered market felt very different from the market in Menton. Noisier and busier, with loud, impossibly rapid, insistent Italian voices filling the air in the market and in the packed cafes lining the street outside. The food looked just as fresh, was piled as high but the variety was different.The fruit and veg were less polished, more misshapen and I have never seen such huge peppers or such massive quantities of  artichokes. We waited in one of the queues that were a constant feature of the stands selling fresh pasta, made purchases and then, of course, could not leave without sampling and buying at one of the stands selling Limoncello 

 

A border and ten kilometres separate the two towns  but they feel very different from each other and sadly, in Ventimiglia, amongst the shoppers there were numerous beggars and sellers of fake handbags and other nonsense. 

The Restaurant Mirazur was almost beyond words, almost...

The food was sublime. The staff were professional, efficient, knowledgeable but most of all they were friendly —laughing and joking with us, as they laid divine dish after divine dish in front of us. Perfect food exquisitely presented, kept coming. Below are just four of the nine courses!

A visit to one of their gardens earlier in the day was as unexpected, as it was pleasurable.  The garden was a muddle of terraces, growing fruit vegetables and herbs—from peas to passion fruit, bananas to basil. In amongst the plants are remains of buildings and fountains; evidence of the life of the garden in the 19th century, when it belonged to the summer house of the King of Belgium.

Finally, just in case you're wondering, I didn’t stop reading over Christmas. 

I read Just Like You by Nick Hornby and Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf . They couldn’t be more different but both stories observe life, love and relationships. Each of them made me smile–one because it is amusing and the other because of its perceptiveness. More importantly, both books made me think—  what more can you ask of a book?