La Reserv—ation

20 07 2009

Boat travel in any breeze greater that 5 knots should be prohibited—worldwide.  If the vessel lists, I insist: NO PASSAGE.

While I enjoy licking up most things that end up on the floor, keeping time with seasick people is not a highlight.  At least not after the first two or three victims.

It took me a full day to get my sea-legs, and that was AFTER I left the ship. Remember, I have four of them.  You know how one year to a human is like seven years to a dog? Well, one day of motion sickness to a dog is like seven days to a human.

“Feel” that.

The only upside to the trip was the ending: A private car to La Reserve, jewel on the Cote D’Azur.

A warm, salt-water pool, long lunches on the palatial veranda, speed boats (too fast to sway) along the Mediterranean shore.

Doggy spa treatments at La Petite Chien: sugar scrub on the belly, acu-pressure to points north of the tail, ear massage.AHHHHH.  The buffing of toe nails; the fluffing of chin hairs.  Pellegrino or Evian?  I ask you.

The ferry floor is but a dim memory.  On to the beach a la Francaise.

Chow.

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Pix

18 07 2009

I love cameras.  Especially the new, digital ones.  If i don’t look good the first time, it can all be erased, just like kicking up a little grass over the morning do, so to speak.

The Contessa, Count and I are making a ton of photos on our trip.  Mostly of me, I might add, against different backdrops.

Nice to be so adored, no?

If I didn’t love road trips so much, I might suggest we simply stay home and use the best picture of me in coordination with Photoshop: the beach, the plane, the train, the mountains, etc.  You get my meaning.

But I DO love road trips.  Emphasis on “road”.  I am not a fan of ferries, though I DO like those cool little fairy-like fireflies along the coast.  Note the difference in spelling–but that’s another story.

We left Rome as you know, at rush hour.  We arrived at a small Bed and Breakfast which, to me, is the ultimate decsriptor for any dog.   and

Really, what could be more perfect?

Next day we were off again, windows down, ears singing in the wind.  We stopped for lunch at a little roadside trattoria: pasta with fresh tomatoes, basil and mozzarella.  Heaven.  A bowl of mountain water and a piddle and back to the car.

Napping in the back seat cannot be touted enough.  Fine leather upholstery covered by my favorite traveling sheepskin and comfort aids , fresh air streaming through the open windows, whiskers gently bending in the breeze.  Ahhhhh.

I awoke to the scent of garlic and some sort of unfortunate sea creature being grilled in the distance.  Bags out of the car, a leisurely aperativo on the patio bar ensued .  A little prosecco in my bowl.

View from our room:

View IN our room:

I ask you: Which is the better vista?

Splendido, indeed.  No confusion here.

Chow.








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