As we awake to the frogs still croaking, a sound that was pleasant to start with, instilling a ” it’s sounds like holiday” feeling, which rapidly ba came a ” we don’t get them going on this long at home” feeling to a ” I wish those bloody frogs would shut up” feeling, and absolutely no pun was intended to our charming hosts.

Today, George experienced the French public transport system as we boarded the number 2, palm line bus from the campsite to the centre of Cannes.  I’ve never really understood the principal of entering a bus, buying a ticket from the driver, stating your destination, then moving 1 m down the bus to validate it…I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason, I just don’t  know what it is.

Today’s destination was the island of Saint Marguerite, one of the Lerins Islands , a 15 minute ferry ride into the med from Cannes.  The island measures just 3.2 kilometres in length and is the home to the Royal fort, which was one of the prisons, under the reign of Louis XIV,  in which the man in the iron mask was held for 11 years.  The identity of whom is still not known with over 60 names suggested.

From the boat, the view was magical, the deep blue sea, the hillside town of Cannes and the majestic alps, reaching to the sky in the background. 

 

The island is designated a national park and the cypress and eucalyptus giving off a heady scent in the midday sun.  Walking around the sun scorched soil of the fort, we were taken back in time when it was a prison and the fear and isolation being captive on  the island would have instilled, especially when your face was perpetually covered.  The mystery who this man, incarcerated by the king, was must have spread amongst the staff and created the air of mystery in such troubled time.  Today however it is a beautiful calm escape from the hustle of busy Cannes.

    

After lunch, the call of the sea was too much for us, so the rest of the day was spent feeling the heat of the suns rays and the gentle lapping of the med over the rocky shore, brought a calm……until someone decided that he was far too hot to be sitting on the beach and insisted that sticks were thrown and brought back, but only if he could shake right next to us !

    

This debarkle of course caused the local residents to wonder what the hell had descended upon their peaceful island.

  

And so, back to Cannes, home of the Cannes famous film festival, where films vie for the prestigious Palm d’or, and also home to the not so prestigious adult film festival the hot d’or, which runs at the same time…….apparently :-).  Dinner and a coffee, overlooking the multi million pound yachts, including some from Luxembourg, a more landlocked country I’ve yet to find, and back to the frogs chirping away…” It sounds like holiday”