I don’t know why it should, but yesterday evening’s discovery that one can’t cross the border from Algeria in to Morocco has been troubling me.
Not, I hasten to add, that I’m so concerned about the free-flow of market economy products across international boundaries, that I worry about the trading balance of the eastern Morroco folk (and, by mirror image) the lack of international trade of the western Algerian people.
No, I feel sure that the local economies have their own methods of *cough* ‘enabling’ trade between the two countries.
I have no idea why this cross-border blockage should trouble me so much.
It just did.
Earlier this evening, as I was driving back to my flat (which is a euphemism for ‘sitting in the globally-famous Bristolian gridlock: Southmead Hospital chapter’), I began to conemplate other holiday routes.
As I sat, surrounded by traffic, mentally flicking the Vs at the cyclists (who cut up the inside of the line of traffic like lemmings heading for the tallest, fattest, juiciest cliftop, instead of overtaking properly), I revisited the original trip.
A short motorbike journey around the south of France?
That can’t be too difficult, right?
Right!
I decided to set my doubts aside, and mentally began to plan the route.
Rugby to Eurotunnel. That one was easy.
Eurotunnel (via appropriate stops, obv) down to Viaduc de Millau.
Because what’s the point of going to France if you aren’t going to see and/or cross this?
After the viaduc, head on southwards to the French Riviera, stopping first at St Tropez.
Then Cannes.
Antibes.
Nice.
And, of course, Monaco.
When I’d reached my limit of French sunlight, and got my toes sufficiently wet, and had my fill of French food and wine, I’d head homewards, and not fanny about too much.
That sounds simple, doesn’t it?
And it’s a trip that isn’t going to take too much time either, right?
Er.
Not really.
Just meeting the above checkpoints, and travelling on motorways (which I wouldn’t do, for reasons of mental tedium avoidance), the oracle that is Google Maps says I’m looking at around 2,100 miles.
Jesus!
Why does this have to be so difficult?
And why does everywhere have to be so many road-miles away?
Once again: CentreParcs… it’s just up the road.
I have driven across that bridge at Millau. It is well impressive. We stopped on one side to take pics and visit the exhibition centre. Well worth a visit.
It’s on the list, young Masher. If my little trip ever happens.