Dark clouds looming, but not for us

Three crowded train trips bring us from Italy into France, but only just.  Each time we board the train there is a scuffle as tired looking travellers jockey for seats.  Luckily, we have reserved our seats in Pisa, and for us the journey is quite pleasant.  Shirls talks to a big burly Swiss guy trying to get home.  He looks like an army sergeant, and grins as we listen to the other passengers bickering.  All trains north are booked out for the next six days, so he is attempting to go via France, or even Spain if he has to.  The other passengers are heading for the UK, Netherlands, USA; they are still thousands of kilometres from home.  Our goal is less ambitious, and we soon pull in to Nice, on the French Riviera.  Our onward plans have changed several times in the last week; working on an organic farm in the Dordogne has been abandoned due to the difficulty in getting there.  Together with the volcanic eruption in Iceland, the French rail workers are also on an extended strike.

But Nice is… nice.  The eerie haze and brooding clouds make for an interesting photo on the beachfront.  We are not sure whether the strange light is a result of the volcanic ash or something more mundane.  By morning the skies are clear and the Cote d’Azur is living up to its reputation as a winterless holiday spot for the super rich.  Tomorrow, we head east.  The rumours are that the planes will start flying soon, but it will take some time to clear the backlog.  None of this matters to us; we will go wherever the train takes us.