I'm not biased, but French bus drivers < English bus drivers

As far as English buses go, if you're on the wrong one the driver can quite swiftly point you in the right direction. In France, the bus drivers are as confused as you are. Cue 4 hours of bus journeys, a stop in Port Saint Louis (word to the wise; just don't go there), an hour in a supermarket, a power cut and lunch in a questionable establishment, and we FINALLY... didn't make it to Arles.

That was about the most exciting occurence of the fortnight. Our much anticipated visit to the Nice Carnival was called off due to the weather (hello, you're talking to an English person here). More precisely someone who lives in Southampton; do we EVER see sunshine? The French simply cannot cope in extreme weather conditions (drizzle). So, we spent our afternoon drinking half-price hot chocolate (half price if it's rainy; the only time I'm ever grateful for bad weather) in Coco Boheme, a cosy tea room which half resembles a cave. A nicely decorated cave, though.



The failed trip to Arles did however result in an accidental trip to Martigues- which happened to be a really beautiful little seaside town. Silver lining, eh.

I have definitely ended up in far worse places (North End, Shirley... I could go on.)