Sometimes, road works are a blessing in disguise. We were heading to Mons, a little
commune high in the hills about 60kms from Nice, in the southeast of France. Normally there’s a direct route from Seillans (a similar, ultra pretty village) but it had been closed all week. Instead we went via Callian on the narrow, tortuously twisty D37 and D56 roads. The journey was not for the faint-hearted with more than a few nerve-jangling moments but the spectacular views along the way more than made up for it. And it was a precursor of things to come. Anyone a little nervous wasn’t helped by the fact that locals take even the most acute-angled corners at breakneck speed presumably banking on the fact that anyone coming in the opposite direction can, and will, get out of the way.
When we finally arrived the first thing we noticed was how quiet it was. No huge tourist buses. In fact, only a few cars parked on the spacious Place Saint-Sebastien, each driver having sought out their own piece of shade under the symmetrical rows of