I think I can, I think I can

It still blows my mind that we're in the position where we have conversations where the basic premise is whether or not we should drive to another country that day. In this case, Italy. We'd had almost another week in France, so it was about time we made our way into Italy.

The highway between Cannes and Genova is not for the faint-hearted. I'm not generally the sort of person who freaks out about driving places, but this trip is really stretching me to my limits. The road goes around and through and over the mountains that run along the coast between Monaco and Italy. To avoid the tiny coastal villages below they've conveniently linked a series of long, dark, narrow tunnels, with a series of long, high, narrow bridges and made the speed limit 100 – what could go wrong? (Please note that given that we're driving a 15 year old campervan full of us and all of our worldly goods, at no point were we within cooee of 100 – yes, even on the downhill parts).

As soon as you leave France everything that was blue is now green. The road signs, the street furniture, the awnings on shops and houses – which I guess makes sense, seeing as though this is the key distinction between the two countries at a very basic level. In this part of Italy, it seems incredible that you could possible think that you were anywhere else. There are almost immediately 200 more scooters within view. There are tomato greenhouses lining the sides of the mountains. The helpful street and information signs stop appearing. It just feels like Italy, and I'm excited.