It was only on the morning that we left Nice that I realised we were already about to leave France. We were all a little disappointed that the French stint was over, but we got a cool parting gift. We found the bike store owner we’d met the previous afternoon (who was the mechanic for Lance Armstrong apparently), and got some local riding jerseys! We climbed over hills overlooking alcoves with countless multi-million dollar yachts. Before long and almost without realising it we descended into Monaco. Of course there was a heap more yachts, a few Ferraris and (probably) the real Astana team, but apart from more stunning coastal outlooks, we were only mildly impressed with Monaco. With that, another ten km, and an embarrassing crash into a bench, we found ourselves in Italy! The first things we noticed were a lot of bike friendly tunnels, both with traffic and bike only ones! Not all of the old coastal railway has been converted yet, but I imagine the Northern Coast of Italy will be a pleasure to ride in about five years. Accordingly, there are stacks of enthusiastic push-bikers who whistle as us. We haven’t exactly figured out what that means yet… With sunlight fading fast we spotted a half constructed building in between two resorts and a marina, and took turns looking innocent on the bike path while the others ran the gear down inside. You always wonder who or what else you might be sharing your accommodation with when you pitch your tent in something like that, but along the coast we didn’t really have another option. That night we probably got away with our cheekiest campsite yet, right next to a marina that charges god-knows-what per night.