For several summers when I was a student, and then when I was first working in various different jobs, each summer some friends and I would go to France. There were usually three of us, sometimes others would come too or we would meet them; the first time we went to la Rochelle on the Atlantic coast, and although we went back there again, it was only en-route to the south of France. One year we visited Menton, right on the Italian border, and we loved it so after that we went there each year.
We stayed at a little campsite which I think was on the road to Gorbio, just outside the town, and we must have stayed there for about eight summers… as students then as teachers we had long holidays and we went to France as soon as we were able and stayed as long as we could. We didn’t have a lot of money, but camping was cheap, and we bought food at markets and in local shops. We had a kitty, of so many francs in each per week and at the end of the holiday, we used what was left to go out for a special meal.
Menton is a lovely little town, and it isn’t much bigger in terms of population now than it was when we visited. It is right on the edge of the Mediterranean, but when you swim in the blue sea you can float on your back and look inland to the Alpes-Maritime, rising into the blue sky. The border with Italy is very close so sometimes we would go over and visit the towns and markets down the Italian coast. The town is full of orange and lemon trees, and I remember mimosa and bougainvillea blooming everywhere. Every year in February there is a festival of lemons, with float and parades, and we always said that one year we would go to Menton to see the festival… we never did.
I remember being so hot I thought I would melt and yet it was wonderful; I tan easily and I remember lying on the pebbly beach, day after day, reading, snoozing, swimming… when we had had enough we would wander into town, or maybe back to the village near the campsite for coffee or ice cream (praline-pistachio was my favourite!)
The last time we left, and I think maybe somehow I realised it would be the last time, we stopped on the road above the town and looked back. My heart felt as if it would burst with love for this place, and how beautiful it was , and I promised that one day I would visit again… I don’t think i ever will, somehow, and certainly not to camp in a tent sleeping on a bed roll on the ground, but in my imagination I can return any time.
I found the camp-site on Google… Here is a link to a picture of it:
Lois Elsden 