We left Nice midday and travelled east along more wonderful French cycling infrastructure, past beaches, tunnels, towns, and craggy rock outcroppings. We rode into Monaco on streets which had been reinforced with fences for the upcoming Grand Prix, and ate a picnic lunch in the harbour, surrounded by yachts and public art. No gambling for us though; we rode right out of town and stopped in Menton for a final glace (gelato) on the harbour, then continued into Italy. The landscape changed almost immediately: the hills were less rocky and more green with terraced agriculture, more houses dotted the entire landscape instead of being concentrated around the harbour towns like in France, and even the plant life alongside the road felt wilder. We spent our afternoon riding and checked into a campground near San Remo for the night, where I dredged up the Italian I had learned in high school and felt my brain heat up as it accessed words and pronunciations that I hadn't used in years. We got everything set up with the desk and pegged our tent in between cobblestones and went to dinner at the campground's restaurant with our expectations firmly in check. But then we discovered that the campground's restaurant was set up to appeal to Italians: we were surprised and delighted by fine table linens and a very delicious multiple-course menu, though we've clearly got a lot of learning to do in order to eat like the Italians; even after the full day of cycling we couldn't imagine ourselves each eating a pasta course and then a meat-and-fries/pizza course! We ended with limoncello, which has become a new favourite of ours.

At this point, we had three days and 130 kilometres to go before we were due in Genoa, so we figured we had some time for adventure. I found a vineyard that was a little inland of our route but it was well-rated, so we rode 40 kilometres along the coast and another 20 kilometres inland to Ranzo. Despite heading towards the snow-capped mountains inland, there wasn't as much climbing to get there as our GPS had led us to believe (fear) and we arrived at the utterly beautiful aMaccia winery and olive orchard by mid afternoon.

Carlotta, who runs aMaccia, and her partner Fulvio received us very warmly and we tried several of their wines as well as a surprising amount of food freshly prepared by la nonna (the grandmother). (Sadly, last year's harvest of olives was so small that they had no more olive oil available for tasting.) We learned how Carlotta, Fulvio and only two others tend to the 1000 olive trees and enough grapevines to make 22,000 bottles of wine a year, plus hosting agritourism guests during tourist season — that's a lot of work! We were so taken with the place that we asked if they did agritourism for tents too, for a night or two. They offered us a space in the olive grove further uphill and we jumped at the opportunity! We then sweated our way up (100 metres vertical gain over less than a kilometre) to our olive paradise.                                                   

We spent the next day relaxing and exploring around the grove, and finally had our first chance to read in the hammock which we've been carrying all this way. For dinner we followed Carlotta's recommendation and went down to the local osteria (homestyle restaurant) and the two of us ate a four-course meal for one, all incredibly delicious! After that we biked back up to the olive grove and collapsed, exhausted and so very sated.

The next morning we set out early, as we now had to cover 110 kilometres to Genoa that day. Taking a rest day proved to be definitely the right (and reasonable!) decision as we made good time along the coast, passing rock climbers and spectacular scenery. Despite the crosswind the whole way that occasionally felt like a headwind, we made into Genoa ahead of schedule and met our parents.

When we first started planning this cycling honeymoon, most people thought it sounded completely unbelievable. Our parents did too, and they also thought it sounded wonderful — and wouldn't it be even more wonderful if both families joined for a week, so we could all travel together and get to know each other better? (Sunday dinners together are impractical when the two families are spread out across three provinces and six cities.) Joel and I thought about it and agreed, and we figured we could get the most family members out (David and Jonathon, we miss you!) for this one-week stretch around the Genoa–Cinque Terre area.

We met all four parents in Genoa's old city, and shared a delicious seafood dinner together before Joel and I made our way back to our Airbnb after a brief detour when both our GPS and Google Maps got thoroughly confused by Genoa's tiny, winding, similarly-named streets. We were very happy to have left most of our bags at our parents' B&B when we found our hosts' building had the tiniest elevator we had seen yet — it's amazing what can be retrofitted into an older building — and we met our lovely hosts and slept well.

We spent the next day touring Genoa with parents, through palazzi (palaces) and churches (including one with an unexploded English bomb from WWII) as well as the maritime museum. Joel was particularly interested to learn there about Genoa's long and storied involvement in ship development and building (everything from galleys to container ships), and maritime trade from the pre-Columbus era right through to the present day. My brother Ian joined us for a pizza dinner, where the seven of us shared six pizzas and enjoyed many delicious flavours.

Food of note:

• Gelato! Chocolate with dark cherry, ginger, coffee with ginseng, darkest chocolate, vegan pistachio, and many more…
• Seafood lunch at a casual place where we were the only English-speaking people there.
• A four-course meal for one (shared between two people) at the osteria: an antipasti plate full of local specialties, ravioli with artichokes, tender beef and mushrooms, and an ice cream and meringue dessert.
• Seafood dinner with barely-seared tuna with papaya, delicate whitefish with butternut squash, and a mixed seafood ravioli with artichokes and vegetables on top.
• Genoese pesto. And focaccia. And delicious together too…
• Espresso (country-wide price is 1€) and limoncello, as many days as the opportunities arise.

The ride into Marseille shouldn't have felt long as it was only 30 km, but it's been a long time since we've seen urban sprawl, and the constant checking for directions and errant cars made it feel much longer. Marseille is the second-largest city in France and we'd heard it's got a reputation for being rough around the edges, some of which we saw as we came in through the suburbs through plenty of traffic and broken beer bottles in the streets. We had also been warned about Marseille on that day in particular, as there was a large political meeting — 50,000 people expected — at the rally for the "Bernie Sanders of France" in the old city. (France's elections happen on April 23; if none of the 12 candidates win a majority, then there is a second round between the top two candidates on May 7. We are leaving France on April 18, which means we'll be watching all of this from afar). We dropped our bags at our Airbnb before heading out on suddenly-lighter bikes. We rode by the gathered crowd and saw their energy but generally steered clear as we headed to the old market district of Marseille, Le Panier.

The next day we saw a bit more of Marseille and then headed out and up. The combination of an easier grade of hill and better conditioning made the 200+ m climb feel much easier than the 166 m climb into France had been! At one point we passed through an area that had had a wild-fire last year, the blackened trees were still there along with a carpet of yellow flowers! As we were taking pictures we met people foraging for wild asparagus and salad greens, and continued marvelling at the splendour of the Calanques as we continued upward: tall hills, deep gulleys, ancient gravel, and scrub and rosemary growing wild.

We camped in a quiet spot that night and continued on through Cassis, then up and on towards our lunch plans. We changed out of our T-shirts and skintight shorts into more presentable clothes 100 m down the road from our well-reviewed restaurant, and had a wonderful meal with staff who admirably covered their surprise as we rolled up and asked where to park our bikes. After lunch we changed back and continued along the picturesque coast. Our brief stop at a beach perfectly coincided with the one cloudy period of the day, and we admitted defeat and headed out (now back in the late afternoon sunshine) towards and through Toulon. We didn't stop to see the city, but can certainly speak favourably of the extensive continuous cycling paths right from its westmost suburbs through the city to the eastmost suburb towns. I really admire and appreciate the investment in cycling infrastructure in this part of southern France! After camping out again that night, we came across a mid-week farmer's market the next morning and had more sunshine and a picnic on the beach. We continued onwards to more climbing (and Google Maps' first epic fail — our promised path led us to dirt trails on private property and angry men yelling at us to get off their property) but our GPS eventually found us an alternate route and climbed ever upwards into a national forest and its wineries.

The second winery we stopped at had wonderful wine and was stunningly beautiful. We decided to take a chance and ask if they had space on the property to put up a very small tent… and were very fortunate as it turns out that the owner of the Domaine Sainte Marie vineyard is an ardent cyclist, and was happy to have us stay.  This was particularly fortuitous as he was hosting a birthday party for his father that night and we happened to also meet his brother who owns a hotel in Cannes and offered us a 'friends and family' rate if we could make it that far the next day, motivation! We spent a wonderful night there serenaded by sheep, frogs, and birds, and started pushing the next day to make the 90 km to Cannes.

As our host had promised, we were cycling through an incredibly beautiful stretch of landscape: national forest, the sandy beaches of St Tropez, craggy coastline of red rocks against blue sky and azure water. It was gorgeous enough to make all the ups and downs of the coast all worth it!

We arrived in Cannes in time for dinner, and caught a glimpse of the filming of Cannes Ninja Warrior as we wandered through the restaurants, designer shops, high-end hotels and luxury yachts that make up the main stretch of Cannes. The Hotel de Provence was our favourite part of Cannes and we had a wonderful stay.

The ride to Nice was almost entirely beachfront cycleway, with a bonus headwind. Getting into Nice was a bit of a challenge as construction had overtaken the two major roads parallel to the beaches, as well as the beach itself and the cycle paths — everything must be ready before high season! We visited the Matisse museum and wandered the area (much easier to do with unladen bikes) and met Cedric and Estelle that evening. They had brought the fixings for Swiss fondue, which we enjoyed very much. 

The next day we all wandered through Vieille Nice, through the winding roads, up the hill to the park, an back down to the beach. Dinner was amazing, and we finished the night with a friendly (competitive) game of Settlers of Catan. The next morning was more Nice-wandering, and Estelle and I ventured into the chilly sea while the men sunned themselves at a safe distance. Cedric and Estelle headed back to Switzerland, Joel and I visited the Chagall museum and had a dinner of delicious Niçoise street food. ​

After the 190 km in two days ride, we made it to Montpellier and stayed for the weekend with Adam, a friend of Joel's from Queens, and his fiancée Magali. They have a lovely place in a really interesting area of town right near city hall, surrounded by new condos that all look distinctive and interesting. They are wonderful hosts and do a great tour of the town — monuments, churches, fountains, and all sorts of interesting, winding streets full of people just out and about. We also visited the hillside town of Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, which still has a very old monastery that avoided getting sacked and destroyed in the various religious wars. Joel was delighted to learn that he has seen some of the stonework from this monastery and church in The Cloisters in New York, as many ornamental pieces had been pillaged/repurposed for construction in nearby villages and farther away over the years, only to be recollected later.

Adam and Magali taught us how to select wine in France (look for the medallion sticker that indicates the wine has won an award), when to buy bread (the day of, and make sure it's been baked fresh on the premises), and Magali made a delicious dinner of roast chicken and tian (gratin). A great visit with fantastic hosts, thanks again!

We also got to see our dance instructor friend Jered for coffee before we left on Monday. That afternoon we did a 30 km ride out to Aigues-Mortes, a medieval walled city in the salt marsh. We camped outside the city walls and were serenaded throughout the night by ducks in mating season, which was far quieter than if we had been a little further along and surrounded by the frogs!

The Camargue is a national park famous for its salt flats, white horses, black bulls, and pink flamingos. I was very excited to see the flamingos — they're such elegant, vibrant, improbable birds, and many thousands of them live in the Camargue during the summer. As we were there during their migration season we didn't see as many as we might have at other times of year, though there were enough in Montpellier a few weeks earlier to cause issues at the airport. We cycled along the south edge of the Camargue, which is for bicycles and pedestrians only, and stopped periodically to watch the flamingos display, mate, and feed, all in significant wind.

The region does bullfights, but the goal is dancing, not death: the matador has to pluck rosettes and other favours from beneath the bull's horns. We came across a herd of bulls on the other side of a fence, and I coaxed them closer to us with some mooing (thanks Greg, the lesson on moose calls seems to have come in handy!). It was fascinating to watch them run as a herd, and to see the interactions between herd members.

We spent a very windy night camped out just outside the park, and continued the next morning directly into the wind and up to Arles. The city was a major port during Roman times, and has the artifacts to show for it! We thought we had been awed by how old the church and monastery at Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert were, and how we don't have anything like that in Canada, but the Roman-era arena in Arles is twice as old as the church at Guillhem-le-Désert. It has been restored and is still used for bullfights and concerts. It was somewhat incongruous to see  seat numbers spray-painted onto Roman stone, but it makes me bizarrely happy to see it still in full use. 

After a whirlwind tour through Arles (history museum, arena, subterranean Roman forum, ancient baths, and a flamingo photography exhibit), we headed out to camp in a light rain, wind, and a field of yellow and purple wildflowers partway to Aix-en-Provence.

The morning ride into Aix was glorious: wine country, paved roads, lunch on the gorgeous Provençal countryside. We dropped off our bikes in a little Airbnb in the heart of the old quarter and soaked in the pedestrian boulevards, winding cobblestone roads, mossy fountains, and art galleries that make up the vibrant city life. The next day we visited the morning market, selling all sorts of fresh produce, meat, cheese, and lavender. There was even a separate flower market, which looked gorgeous but impractical for cyclists. We visited the Granet museum, which was my first exposure to Cézanne. I was underwhelmed by the pieces on exhibit, but I blame the curator at the time — he vowed that as long as he was in charge, the museum would never display a Cézanne. I was far more impressed by their statues room, which featured Greek and Roman statuary as well as works from the 17th and 18th centuries. 

Case in point: Joel finally figured out how to use the GPS the day before we left (very handy!). We didn't bring my old and sad bike helmet, trusting that we'd find a better one in Barcelona (and we did). We shipped what we hoped would be the perfect 'kickstand' to Pittsburgh a week before we took off, trusting we'd figure out how to get it to Toronto before we left (it arrived an hour before we headed to the airport — thank you Emily, Matt and Ian, it works wonderfully for us). And we've been trusting heavily in our bikes and our GPS to help us out when some of the roads Google suggests for cycling look like they are more suited to mountain bikes than to fully-laden touring bikes.

Our "Thanks, Google…" roads have been gravel, mud, sand, and several stream and river crossings without bridges, including one where we had to carry over instead of ride/wade through.

​We spent one night at a specialty hotel whose rooms are all private bubble-rooms with clear plastic domes over the beds so you can stargaze — very romantic! ​While I did laundry, Joel made an amazing dinner on the camping stoves (salmon and Brussels sprouts poached in cava, served on butter rice).

Much of the ride out from Barcelona had been flat. That started changing as we got closer to France and the Pyrenees, and the little coastal villages were separated by mountains in between. Worse yet, the last town in Spain is at sea level, and the border is 166 m above sea level.

(We're also carrying 128 lbs of bike and gear for Joel, and 96 lbs of bike and gear for me. He gets more weight because he's been training on his 20 km round trip daily commute, versus my 4 km round trip. He also carries the food, so his pack weight varies depending on how hungry we are each day.) 

Once we cycled past the graffiti'd checkpoint offices at the border (permanently closed and not needed in the EU), we were into France proper. We quickly found a group of seniors who had walked up the French side of the hill, and we immediately started talking. It was such a relief to be able to communicate effectively, and we talked nonstop! They were very taken with us and the idea of our trip, and our bikes — the men were all trying to pick up Joel's bike, and they were telling us to enjoy our youth while we could (though one woman told us about the yearly 800 km bike trip she does with a friend in Germany, which sounds fantastic). 

After lunch at the top, we rode down to Cerbère at sea level, filled up with water, then immediately (agonizingly) climbed our way back out of town. The highway had a more gradual climb than the one in Spain, so we continued along until we found a perfect spot on the coast to wild camp. We had dinner, watched a wild pig gallop on by, and then started looking ahead to the route to Montpellier. We had three days to cover 210 km, and the forecast was calling for rain the entire third day. So we did the only sensible thing: we decided to try to ride it all in two days.

We woke up to a glorious sunrise, and then continued down the hill to Banyuls-sur-Mer to fill up with water and ride back up another hill. After starting the morning with snow-capped Pyrenees in the background, the landscape soon transitioned to miles and miles of beaches and accompanying parking, and landscape and architecture that felt more like Florida. We spent some time at the beach, and spent the bulk of our day cycling alongside many more kilometres of deserted beaches (the carousels were just coming out as the Easter holidays start soon), and then on to the inland salt marshes. 

After another impossibly beautiful sunrise, we broke camp and were once again off on the canal path out of the estuaries and back to the beach towns alternating with vineyards. They were all setting up for holidays — go karts, trampolines, campgrounds, golf, all eerily quiet but soon to be bustling. Our road took us inland and then back along the coast, with a very strong east wind the entire way. Our last stretch before dinner was a 12 km dedicated bike way along luxurious sandy beaches between Agde and Sète. We had a seafood dinner in Sète and since dark had fallen, we hopped on a train for the last few kilometres to Montpellier, and arrived before the rain started.

The city itself is just gorgeous. The old city is majestic, the parks are verdant and well-used, and the public art and monuments are fascinating. And so much of the city (the parts we were in, at least) had a great pedestrian-friendly and people-friendly vibe. A lot of that feels like it comes from the five-storey walkups lining every boulevard, with many tiny balconies looking out over the streets. Everywhere we went we saw people out and enjoying the public spaces. It felt very different than the shape and space of public life in Toronto.

Food of note:

• The many different flavours of tapas. Gustaf found us a great place and we ate until we could eat no more.
• Seafood prepared in a way that I actually like! Octopus, squid, anchovies, cod and potato millefeuilles, tuna tataki, cod cooked in vermouth by Gustaf, seafood mix at tapas. This has definitely expanded the variety of things we look forward to eating on this trip.
• An amazing artichoke velouté, which might be the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.
• A variety of red vermouth, which is Barcelona’s drink of choice.

​Onwards to Rome!