Cannes
(Day Trip - Sept. 5, 2013)
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| View from Apartment (Personal Photo) |
Once we had
settled in to the apartment, my family and I decided to explore how
the buses operated, so on impulse one morning we decided to go to
Cannes, famous for its annual film festival held in May. It cost us
only 1.50 euros each. After days of walking around Nice, the bus ride
to Cannes was a welcome respite for my feet, which throbbed at the
end of each expedition.
The roads here are
narrow and twist like vipers; every hamlet is a maze of twisty
passages, all alike. I was glad we were not driving, for within a
heartbeat I would have become lost: the extra moment it would take to
process the French signs (and share that information with my father,
the hypothetical driver) would inevitably lead to such an end. And
that’s not including dealing with unfamiliar traffic laws and road
signs!
After being forced
off the bus at its last stop, we hit the beach. Unlike those in Nice,
the beaches of Cannes are sandy, which was much gentler on my tender
toes. A few minute’s walk from the beach lay the pedestrian-only
area lined with shops and small cafés. As I wandered further, the
way narrowed and began to twist upwards. Squeezed into the space were
increasingly fancy restaurants. My stomach, not yet accustomed to the
7pm French dinner hour, was rumbling by 5:30. As we passed one
restaurant, the brother of the chef convinced my family to come back
for dinner, and so I found myself supping on salmon, dorade
(sea bream), and crème brûlée while enjoying a glass of
white wine on the house. (I should add that many French restaurants
seem to close sometime in the afternoon and reopen for dinner at
about 6pm; the ones that remain open all day advertise themselves as
having “non-stop” service.)
Monaco (Day
Trip - Sept. 7, 2013)
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| Main Room of Apartment (Personal Photo) |
Two days later, our destination was
Monaco, a tiny country situated an
hour’s bus ride from Nice. Tourism and gambling are its main
industries. It even has its own monarch. Oddly enough, I was reminded
of Genovia, a similar but non-existent country from The
Princess Diaries. We hopped off
at the Monte Carlo Casino and, after snapping a few photos of the
outside, walked down and around the bay to the Palace.
We saw a rare event: every day, at 11:55am sharp, there is the changing of the guards; however, we had chosen the lucky day when no such event occurred. Instead, we watched for 15 minutes as a forklift shoved some steel beams onto the back of a transport truck. As we waited in vain, I saw pigeon missing one of its feet and dubbed it Peggy, the peg-legged pigeon. I also saw a seagull the size of a small dog and thought it was going to snatch my baguette panini sandwich from my hands.
We saw a rare event: every day, at 11:55am sharp, there is the changing of the guards; however, we had chosen the lucky day when no such event occurred. Instead, we watched for 15 minutes as a forklift shoved some steel beams onto the back of a transport truck. As we waited in vain, I saw pigeon missing one of its feet and dubbed it Peggy, the peg-legged pigeon. I also saw a seagull the size of a small dog and thought it was going to snatch my baguette panini sandwich from my hands.
I have always believed that Monaco was the model for Duchy of Grand Fenwick, a tiny fictitious nation from the novel and subsequent movie "The Mouse That Roared". Your adventure sounds wonderful. Keep posting so that we may live vicariously through you.
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