Uber-rich in Monaco, Skint & Hungry in Levanto
We left towards Monaco, not having quite had our fill of uber-rich filth, and zoomed through, stopping for long enough to photograph the bike and Adam next to some millionaire toy-boat, and riding on a short section of the Grand Prix track, where they were setting up all the start flags etc. I got humiliated by a very swanked up postcard seller in a bow-tie and breeches. It was a very full-up place, with hotels with swimming pools on the roof, and garage attendants who sneered at you. The Barclays branches looked like 5-star restaurants, and Lambourghinis were as common as Fords would be anywhere else. It was small though, a little bay of mentalness, and we passed through and into Italy without noticing. We didn’t realize we’d crossed over until the service station man was speaking a funny type of French we couldn’t understand. There were espresso bars in the garages, and Estonians in tiny cramped vans with their babies swaddled up so much they couldn’t see out. The motorw...