gazlington

A new  breakfast location downstairs within our latest hotel, and yes, we have toast. OJ, cereal, scrambled eggs, toast and tea. Down the hatch. Off to get some sandwiches for our trip down the coast. Another discovery…….the supermarket. Next we decide to sort out the hire car thing. Parking in Nice is at an absolute premium. We need to find and step out the car park recommended by the hotel. We’ve got a car to sort out now. Car park sorted. Check. Down to the promenade and into the Europa Car offices. After locating our passports, we pick up the car, some sort of funky eco centric Citroen. Lets get this bad boy started. What is going on with these keys? We seek some assistance from someone devoid of interpersonal skills. Oh, I see the keys (for want of a better word) plug into the dash and you press the start button. Right, right, righty, right, right. Silly us. Whats the story with the sat nav? Again we seek some help, but for some unknown reason we can’t with the assistance of a Europa Car representative put in Monaco as a destination. Take the coastal rd we are advised. Sue and I look at each other, and decide to give it a go. As we wind our way out of Nice, all seems to be going well. In actual fact all seems to be going too well. The ocean sights are really extraordinary. I can see why the Riviera goes off in summer. As we wind our way into Monaco, the look of the place spells out indulgence and luxury. And now for some parking. We go around in circles attempting to park. This is crazy. In the end we see a sign to Nice and head back frustrated. This is all good, but we are not travelling on the coastal rd, we are now on a toll motorway. And so the drive  gets crazy as we attempt to get back to Nice and hop off at the right spot. No sat nav, a map in French and a lot road signs in French. Hypercrazy. Eventually we get to aim for the Nice city centre and trickle down through the top of town to where we got off the train yesterday. Familiarity. Yes. Now where was that carpark? After some more craziness and abuse from other drivers we get to our carpark. Such a narrow entrance. Up to the 6th floor. All good, except how do you lock this bad boy? Certainly not by standing close to the vehicle and clicking the lock button. Some locals give us a hand. Oh I see, you’ve got to stand well away from the vehicle before locking it. Car locked. Done. We are both ready for a drink. Down to the promenade to gaze out to the ocean. Riveriera. Bang. Time for some shopping. Nice is a bit of a retail label spot, so shopping for normal human wants are a little limited at first glance. You need to look for some shops in some of the side streets. We grab a coffee then head back to HQ. A crazy day. Regret at not walking around the wharfs of Monaco. Is Monaco Nice on steroids? I suppose we’ll never know. Drive to Marseille on Wed, before flying to Venice. Probably no rental car action tomorrow. Kick back day/people gazing day tomorrow?

monaco residential opulence

cruise ships line up to get into Monaco.

monaco roadway

looking down the beach

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beach life Nice style.

suz has a wine.

No euro breakfast this morning, as we have booked a taxi for 7am to take us to Lyon to catch a bullet train. Sounds a bit Steve McQueenish. Sad to leave Paris. Would love to gone to Duke Lombard’s jazz club on Sebastopol and maybe a Picasso museum, but alas, not to be. Anyway, up at the station we just walk in. Our train is in Hall 1, the level we walked into the station on, this is good. Train departing at 8:49am. We are way too early, but comfortable and organised. Watch the screens to pick out our train aisle. Then we’re off, carriage 1 seats 53 and 54. Now exactly where is carriage 1? Upon finding our carriage its a bit of a bunfight stowing the luggage because some people will be getting off earlier than us, but it all works out. The train takes its time but we are soon sitting on 200k plus. At one point I noticed we were sitting on 294k. Pretty impressive. Why don’t we have one of these doing Melbourne to Sydney? I just don’t think we get infrastructure in Australia. Its almost like the nation is constipated when it comes to big thinking, big ideas and big implementation. The French seem to have found  a way. Was wondering about the fact that no-one had checked our tickets, when along comes this rather dishevelled looking dude with an electronic device. All very low key. Present your tickets. Our trip from Lyon to Nice, takes 5.5 hours. Nice one. Navigating our way to our hotel proves to be a little trickier. As I scoot off to check a few street signs, a woman approaches me, ……ah some assistance with directions. Iam then asked whether I’m right for a woman tonight. “What?” I ask. Weird man. Is this a joke? Check into the hotel, and then walk along the beach promenade. Stop for drinkie winkies at one of the multiple street drinkie winkie stations, and then back to HQ for a serve yourself type of meal. Back in our room I discover that I can’t get BBC World. Not good. Day over.

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Our day starts with French music underpinning a Euro breakfast. I’m actually digging the fresh bread and croissant with jam thing. Might have to change things up when I get back to Melb.

Time to try and sort out a problem with my eldest daughter’s camera. On to google, check out google maps and zing, I find a place around the corner. Get to the counter at the store and no-one is interested in talking to me about anything in relation to my problem. As I turn to walk away, a customer nearby asks if he can help. Turns out he was born and educated in Melb, currently living in Munich. He tries in vain to fix the thing, but alas zippo. His girlfriend gives me the name of a good restaurant in Santorini. The magic of travel. Serendipity. Back to the Hotel.

We head off to the Pompidou Centre. After some intense map reading we get there. The problem with the Paris road labelling system is that things change from block to block. Very strange. Up at the Centre its a carnival atmosphere. We head for the 5th floor and start to peruse the modern collection. After a few Picassos we head to the roof for the most amazing view of Paris. A few photos later and we go to down to the forecourt of the Centre. I opt for someone to do a caricature of myself and we check out some fantastic street performers. Suns out. Great stuff.

Stop off for some coffee and people gazing.

Back to the Hotel. Early start tomorrow. Off to Nice.

Hodgey caricature

picasso

Sue outside Pompidou

top of Pompidou. Eiffel in background.

view from Pompidou.

Back to the Hote

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Euro breakfast here we come. Great to head downstairs for some food and some coffee. A few more people here this morning. Tourism is a pretty dynamic thing. I’ve suggested we try and look for some music memorabilia amongst other things. On to the internet and google maps, and bang……….The Monster Melodies Shop comes up. We head for the MM Shop just off the Boulevard de Sebastopol, and here we are. Upstairs, a lot of vinyl. I’m really looking for posters, particularly posters reflecting the golden age of jazz here in the late 50s and early 60s. Look online through our site I’m told. Ok then. We move further down Sebastopol and decide to check out a prominent legal/ justice site in the history of France and the revolution of the late 1700s. Only problem? The queues. We queue for an hour to get into the Chapelle. The site is labelled Saint Chapelle (on Sebastopol). The building style (from 1242?) is classic gothic. Part 1 of the tour involves going through a Concierge area where Marie Antoinette was held and tried (?) along with thousands of others (she was ultimately executed in a major public square not too far away). Part 2 involved a look through the Chapelle with the most amazing massive stained window displays. Out of the Chapelle on to the Seine. Grab a snack and sit by the Seine. Watch the long tourist boats go through. I pick up a couple of rock posters from some vendors on the side of the Seine. We head back uptown and Sue picks up some perfume. Back to the hotel.

Further Paris observations.

1. Gendarmes look pretty scary.

2. No helmuts for beautiful young female bicycle riders.

3. Traffic is seemingly all over the place, yet people seem to accommodate each other and it all seems to work.

4. Stories of Presidents past is worth a look. One was actually committed to an infirmary for a variety of things including greeting dignitaries wearing nothing but his medals.

5. Queues are a fact of life at the major historic sites. Prebook if you can.

6. Crowded footpaths and the dodging game.

7. The ultimate “hang” capital where people smoke, talk and drink for infinite amounts of time. Who is doing the working?

Out to dinner. Another day.

Concierge Saint Chapelle

The Chapelle itself

Seine

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Take a call from home. How do you light the pilot light outside for the heating. I can barely do it in Melbourne. How do I do it from Paris?  Something happened and heating on. No thanks to me apparently. Ah….parenthood. Off to breakfast in the no toast zone. We decide to seize the moment with the weather and  do some extensive Hop on Hop off  bus stuff. Same system as London. Headphones supplied. The only problem is getting the tickets. Up we go on to Sebastopol Boulevard. A bit of retail therapy on the way. After a journey that Indiana Jones would be proud of we finally buy the tics. Now, where in the hell do u get on the bus? Behind the Opera house, of course! On to the bus and it all unfolds, Notre Dame, Louvre, Champs, Arc De Triumphe, etc. I think I’m stunned again by the consistency and scale of the architecture. Quite breathtaking. The number of international brand name shops along the Champs was incredible. A mini Roland Garos was set up nearby, with a massive screen in the background showing the real thing. Nothing is done in halves. After we are done with the bus tour we end up going back to a shop where we earlier bought something. The proprietor is ecstatic and gives us a discount. Ah…………….capitalism with good intentions is a good model. At a venue called the Olympia I notice John Butler (Johnny Butler!!!!!!) is playing shortly along with Cliff Richard (I thought he was in a nursing home) and Pat Metheny. Pat Metheny! Are you kidding! Here next week? Will be in Nice. Sorry Pat. We must find food and manage to nail down something close to our digs. Haven’t really eaten since breakfast. Back to the hotel. Another day over

John Butler

pat metheny unity band

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A late start. Breakfast down stairs. What? Again? No toast with a Euro breakfast. Oh well, croissants and pastries and corn flakes will have to do. Back on to the road. We are probably walking around 3-5 hours a day at the moment. Really enjoying  this aspect of our trip. We head for Sebastopol Boulevard. The French have a Boulevard for every occasion. We aim ultimately for the Seine. How good is this? And there it is, the geographical centre of Paris, Notre Dame. Can’t get over the size of this icon and the intricate ornamental work on the outside. This seems to be one of the themes in Paris, …………….big, detailed and prominent.

We walk up to love lock bridge. We buy a lock, write our names on the front and I throw the keys into the Seine. A strange ritual geared to the viability of the locksmith industry. Next stop the Louvre. No Mona Lisa viewing for us today on the part of queues. Unbelieveable. In actual fact I saw the sonic equivalent of the Mona Lisa last night. We stop by the Seine for a pizza and a bit of people gazing. A bit of retail therapy ensues. Can’t get over the number of beggars on the streets. All beggars need a marketing angle now. The current marketing angle is to have a cute little dog, so money goes to the dog who then passes the money on to the beggar. Brilliant. The other strategy that I saw yesterday was straight out of the begging handbook, page 23………just get a fishing pole and put a cup on the end of it. Innovative stuff. I’ve also seen families bedding down for the night on the streets, with their animals. Whoa.

Back to the hotel. Scrub up for dinner at the Eiffel Tower. We order a taxi. The driver is a classic. West Indian? Blah, blah , blah is how he describes politics in France. Very funny guy. We get to the Tower and, mon dieu, what a sight. We were both blown away by the scale of the thing. Very wary of pick pockets. Signs everywhere about this. Keep ur wallet secured dude……….or something. Nerve racking. We get into the lift and up we go to the first level. We wait to be called up some stairs to the restaurant.  Up we go. The view from our spot is extraordinary. A glass of champagne is supplied, with some Evian. Meal wise we go for Smoked  Salmon and filleted  Chicken. I opt for the cheeses and Sue opts for the moose. Great atmosphere. Great views particularly with the lights on. We head back down in the lift both shaking our heads and notice the giant Roland Garos tennis ball suspended within the Tower. Evening over. Back to our digs at the Arts Metiers precinct.

the happy couple

french open ad

Notre Dame

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becky and band

becky set list

And so we arrive in another big one…………Paris. Once I’d gotten over the concept of a water sealed train, all was good. The trip was great. Didn’t see one bit of water. We are seated at a table opposite other people. Met a nice couple heading in the same direction. She was the head of the UK Naval Training Board. Pretty senior position. We’ll have someone to contact if we come back to blighty again. Nice fromage and biscuits for afternoon tea. Brilliant. Getting out of the Eurostar station we were offered a taxi, and before we knew it our bags we being put into the boot of a car. Bad mistake. Too many Euros for a 10 minute drive to our hotel. We were caught off guard in the exit area of the station. Never again.

Paris is pretty full on. The language side of things is manageable. No such thing as skim milk, a dietary requirement for Sue. Only low fat milk. Can’t get over the smoking. Clearly the French economy is going to struggle in the future as all of its workers will die prematurely of lung cancer.

4 things about Pari

1. Hypersmoking rates

2. Motor bikes and Vespas

3. Endless conversations and coffee in cafes

4. Frenetic traffic. Think Sydney on steroids.

I discover that the concert venue for Becky tonight is only 1o mins away. Bang. Sue and I step it out. The Grand Rex Cinema.

Back to our hotel, I have a shower and freshen up…………then I’m back on the road again. Sue not interested in Jeff’s new Middle Eastern textures. I said she should have a foot massage or something. At the venue, I purchase a Beck T- Shirt. No French touring information on it, but I’ll have it. Very lazy managment by Harvey Goldsmith, Jeff’s main man. I speak to a guy about wanting to catch up with Jeff’s guitar tech for someone in Melb who has had a development breakthrough in relation to Fender Strats. Wait until after the gig is the modus operandi apparently.

Into the venue. I find I have front row seats. Can’t believe it. A young guy does an interesting blues set as support, moving between English and French. Sounds aggressive. The French love it.

Then the big boy comes on. A brilliant band playing really powerfully. Jeff plays some of his new stuff, as well some older parts of his catalogue. Great covers of early Mahavishnu and Billy Cobham stuff. Extraordinary to witness Jeff at around 15-20 ft away. He was really pulling some great guitar sounds. The evening just keeps on getting better and better. All of a sudden, its over. Jeff does 2 encores and I start to head outside. I arrange with the woman sitting next to me to email me her photos, as my iphone camera struggled with the lights. After hangin for a bit I catch up with Jeff’s tech. I get some contact details for my mate in Melb. Well done. Autograph? More hangin. I end up talking to 2 delightful young french girls. Very convivial. I point out to one of them Jeff’s manager. She goes straight over to him with her copy of the set list saying take me to Jeff. He bloody well does. She comes out with a photo of Jeff drapped around her like a summer scarf and her set list signed. I wait a little longer. Jeff appears but straight into the bus. Boom. All over. I make my way back to our hotel, after taking a few nervous detours. End of the day.

Posted in music and travel

Our last day in London

Pretty cruisey. Very late start and around to the U2 breakfast hub. Same routine, we are asked for our room number. Bono still goin off thru the speakers.

Off down to Oxford St……..again.

We jump on a double decker. We take in the sites and walk around Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, London Eye and last but not least Buckingham Palace. Buckingham Palace is absolutely massive. We buy a shower cap in a nearby Royal Gift Shop and hop back on to the double decker. These buses run past every 5 to 15 mins. Great idea. 30 pounds for 24 hours.

Back down to Oxford St for a snack for a final time.

Fini

Buckingham Palace

That balcony

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Off to our breakfast haunt. U2 album Rattle and Hum playing for the third day in a row. I love Daniel Lanois’ production skills but this is ridiculous. Again we are asked for our room number, again I say that we are not staying here.

Off to the BBC, an easy walk. Get to the media cafe and we are security checked. We are the only foreigners amongst the pommies. Our tour guides are 2 young guys, Jamie and Simon. Jamie is a classic. His dry sense of humour and general banter should be part of something live to air. Anyway. We are informed of the fact that the Queen opened this facility last June. We get to look at the new integrated newsroom and go thru the various roles of the different sections. Theresa May (Minister for Defence?) sashays past and is interviewed  outside. This is a pretty amazing facility where 6000 people work and programs are broadcast to something like 200 million plus countries in multiple languages.

Next I find myself presenting a news bulletin on camera with a 12 year old, before we go to the older part of the newly conjoined facility which has managed to be integrated with the radio portion of BBC. Apparently during the Second World War Charles De Gaulle used to come down to this spot and deliver a speech to his subjects. Churchill as well. I think television itself was invented here in 1936 on an old radio portion of this facility. Ricky Gervais started here along with a host of other personalities. There exists in the radio part of the facility, a theatrette where a lot of prominent acts have performed to a small audience of about 400. They can only ever be paid 66 pounds. No one is ever paid any more than 66 pounds. Its a government rule. Sue engages in a radio play with self made fx. Tour over.

Off down to Regent St to look for more stuff. Can’t believe the crowds. We work our way back to home base. Another day.

a radio star is born

the new breakfast team

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A big day ahead

Discovered a nice little breakfast spot, just around the corner. Continental breakfast. Bang.

A twenty minute walk and we are into the centre of London at Oxford St. Need some more comfortable shoes as my desert boots have had their day. Into Carnaby St in Soho to Size for some new trainers. All good. Hendrix used to shop in Carnaby St for second hand clothes because he was so desperately poor in the early days. What is it with Rock n Roll illusions? Down to the meeting point for the Rock n Roll Tour……in a minivan. We meet our guide, come back at 2pm he says. Upon returning to the 12-16 seater we discover that we are in a minority in a sea of Canadian and Americans. Surprised to hear Bruce name check Hunters and Collectors as a top Australian band (which they are)……….Men at Work? INXS? Bee Gees?

Anyway off we go. Bruce is such a character. He is originally from Wales and used to lecture in marketing and economics. He used to know a lot about duopolies and stuff.  A bit too close to home for me. He really knows all of the back stories. We travel around Kensington initially. The names start to flow. Elvis Costello’s song about the area he lived in. The place where Mamma Cass died. She didn’t die from choking on a ham sandwich. She died of a heart attack. Next, Eric Clapton’s current digs. He is often seen around here. He tends to turn up to gigs unannounced and play as a guest for the whole set. He recently did this with Dr John (?)

The Clapton household

The stories keep flowing………….the Royals tend to frequent this club when they are around. Interesting.

Mick Jagger has this place (below) near the Thames that he has never lived in because the council won’t let him cut down the greenery to get a view.

Mick’s place

We keep going, …………..oh I see, thats Jade Jagger’s house a few doors up. Eventually we find ourselves at Bill Wyman’s Sticky Fingers restaurant. Bill still plays in his band the Rhythm Kings, with a floating roster of musicians. Apparently Ronnie hangs around here from time to time. In the actual restaurant we find a whole lot of memorabilia collected by Bill from the early years.

Brian Jones original Les Paul

a pair of Mick’s jeans

Eventually we get going on to the second half of the tour that will clearly climax at Abbey Rd. Righto thats Jimmy Page’s house. Apparently if Jimmy sees the tour bus coming around he’ll often duck out and do a meet and greet and sign autographs. The Rock tour company and Jimmy’s wife both support some orphanages in Brazil. Here’s Jimmy Page’s house that he has had for the last 40 years.

Pagey’s place

We keep moving thru Portobello Rd, King’s Rd, Notting Hill……….oh thats Posh and Becks new $70 m home. We stop at a Beatles shop and pick up some stuff……T Shirts, fridge magnets, coffee cups and then back up to Abbey Rd. Crazy scene. Sue and I get to walk the crossing. A dream fulfilled. I get a snap of the actual studio that really was  at the cutting edge of innovation. Around the time of Pepper the sound engineers actually built equipment to achieve certain sounds. For example the Automatic Double Tracking device that was used for doubling vocals and guitars. Think guitar sound in While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

Abbey Rd

musicians leave the studio after working on a Korean film .

In the end a number of loose ends are wrapped up. This is where Lennon and Hendrix lived. This is where Hendrix died. These are Macca’s current digs. We even saw the famous bathroom window that inspired a song on Abbey Rd.

All in all, a massive arvo that I’ll never forget.

Macca’s current digs

The basement where Hendrix died

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