About an hour and a half drive's away from Nice, nestled in the hills behind St. Tropez, is a warm, cozy cottage surrounded by vineyards and mimosas. Somehow, this isolated island in a forest of oak trees is also high-tech palace, with cable TV and ADSL. (They say it took 3 men and 200m of cat-5 cabling.)
This is Kenzo's house, and we wanted to get there for the Easter weekend. However, us both being distrait and naturellement doués, we missed the train, misintepreted the bus schedule, and 7 hours later found ourselves walking on the side of a winding hillside road with Porsches screaming past us (hey, I said it was near St. Tropez). Our plan to get there just after lunch ended in us scrambling to get cover before nightfall.
Is it just me, or do my actual travel times always end up waaay longer than expected?
I wish I could fly.