Simon Butcher

It would appear that Aline's Subacute Cutaneous Lupus Erythematosus flared up from the sun. We spent the morning visiting specialists on Boulevard Raspail and pharmacies before really getting a chance to see the sights. It would appear that the French medical system parallels the Belgian system in many respects, in that it's so easy and cheap to get treatment.

So we headed down the main drag for a look at the sights on offer around the old town.

Le Theatre on Place du l'Horloge

Place du Palais

Rue de la Vieille Poste

Pont Saint-Bénezet (Pont d'Avignon)

“Zulu” — Artwork in front of the city walls, near Pont Saint-Bénezet on Boulevard du Quai de la Ligne

Just inside the city walls on Rue Ferruce (near Pont Saint-Bénezet)

Palais des Papes (Palace of the Popes)

Cathédrale Notre-Dame des Doms (Notre-Dame Cathedral)

After such busy tourist activity, we were keen for lunch. Naturally we had to find a traditional lunch to fit in with the surroundings, so we settled for a Dürüm and headed into a quiet side street to eat.

We shortly realised we were sharing the area with the local SDFs, where I noticed this sign that reminded me so much of Brussels for some reason! Ironically, this sign had obviously found itself targeted specifically by its intended audience.

With the rising temperature, the harsh sun, and the horrible pollution of Southern France, we decided to take a leap and head up the A7 for the Alps. Our target was to reach one of the small alpine towns Scott and I drove through on our way from Chamonix and back into Italy.

So we headed towards Albertville as fast as we could, watching the pollution disappear behind us with the sky changing from brown to blue, and watching the outside temperature gauge in the car slowly climb down.

After a nasty traffic jam around Grenoble, we started to see signs of mountains in the distance! We finally reached Albertville and despite a small bit of poor map reading we were on our way up the winding roads into the mountains I had remembered from my previous trip in this area.

The main road was closed beyond Ugine however, and we had to take a detour up some very tiny roads. We passed lots of tiny places, such as Saint Nicholas-la-Chapelle, Flumet (where we nearly stopped for the night), Praz-sur-Arly, Megève, and Demi-Quartier.

With the sun setting and being unable to decide on which of these tiny towns to stop off at, we set our driving limit to be the previously visited Chamonix (Mont Blanc), or alternatively heading back to Flumet (which looked quite nice).

It wasn't long before the decision was made on our behalf, though. We stopped off at the bottom of Avenue du Mont d'Arbois, Saint-Gervais-les-Bains, for a five minute break from driving. Upon leaving, we drove no more than 20 metres and the car stopped, and refused to start again.

We rolled the car back down to the car-park under the ice skating rink where we had stopped and tried to work out what was wrong with the car. It seems the poor 206 was not in a good way, so Aline made the call to her insurance company. It wasn't too long before a mechanic rocked up, diagnosed the fuel pump as being the culprit, and towed us to Les Houches — a mere stone's throw away from Chamonix in comparison to how far we'd driven so far.

To cut a long story short, we wound up staying in the Chamonix Mercure for a few nights while the car was repaired, paid for courtesy of the insurance company! I couldn't think of a more picturesque place to be stranded; It's times like this that insurance comes in handy…