Mea Culpa

Rick dragged me kicking and screaming mentally on the long route from Geneva, Switzerland to Argelès-sur-mer, France. My preferred method would have been a "Beam me down there, Scotty" and in lieu of that the autoroute would be my next choice.

Our last trip up was 12 hours because of tourist traffic, and Rick had no desire to duplicate that nightmare.

Me: What are our goals?

Rick: To get there and see some new things.

Okay, I gave in almost graciously. I am so glad I did.

Although I tend to fall asleep when a key is turned in on in a car's ignition, I was awake enough to see how beautiful the mountains and rocks were. Each turn was better than the one before.

We stopped for lunch in Serres, which was rebuilt after Richelieu destroyed it in 1633. It is amazing how often we stumble across history. The lamb in the tagine was so tender I could have chewed it with my tongue.

There were many "Stops!s" to take a photo of a statue or some other site such as a apple used for marketing the regional produce.

I have no problem admitting when my husband is right. He kindly does not rub it in. And I do appreciate the 9+ hours he was behind the wheel to get us safely to our destination.