Monaco, where even the tourist traps are elegant. We docked this morning at Cannes, of film festival fame, and took the tender in to the buses. This gave us a great view of the waterfront as well as the ship, and was kind of fun as we rode up top. Our ship is HUGE! We met our guide, Angelique, who was quite the change from Ornella, bhh. As we rode to Monaco, we saw the glitzy parts of Cannes, but no Brangelina. Angelique told us all about Cannes, the festival, quite a bit about the principality and the advantages of Monagasque citizenship (…no taxes. Ever.) When she finally took a breath, and asked for questions, a woman who sounded just like George Costanza’s mom shouted from the back “Angie! How do you work the footrest?!” Sigh.
We rode through Nice and the countryside as we approached Monaco, and then crested the hills at the beginning of the Alps, and the French Riviera opened before us. Quite spectacular. The weather was fine, and the views superb. Our first stop was the palace (Albert was home apparently, but no sightings, much to Angelique’s chagrin). Then the Cathedral where Princess Grace was married, and eventually entombed. We saw the tombs, and it was really quite sweet, as there were fresh flowers obviously put there every day by the various residents of Monaco, in addition to the official memorials.
At lunch, where 400 plus Americans violated every local noise ordinance, led by George Costanza’s mom, who managed to outshout everyone. She was of course sitting right behind Jene. I was seated across from Mikey from Phili, a guy about my age who had mugged George Michael and stolen his glasses, sweater, and hair highlights. We decided to skip desert and admire the architecture instead. Not to wallow in self loathing, as every culture has its faults, but to be honest, as a group, we were appalling loud, rude, and demanding. It is no wonder most of the world doesn’t like Americans.
Then the real trouble started, as Angelique could get us into the Casino in Monte Carlo. We took a short hop by bus, passing the Grand Prix route, and getting to see the not so Grand Prix (go carts- where Danica Patrick (?) got her start). Arriving at the casino, we had the pleasure of using the public lifts, as Monaco and Monte Carlo are basically clinging to the cliffs for dear life. Any thoughts we had of placing a few bets and pretending to be James Bond for a minute (ok, any thoughts I had) were quickly dashed, as they were only running roulette and black jack with 25 Euro minimums (about $35) or slots. Somehow playing the slots at the Casino in Monaco just doesn’t have the same cache.
So we went to a café, got mostly ignored by the waiter, practice what little French we knew (le sange es en su branche?!), watched the fancy cars and the beautiful people, and generally marveled that we were in Monte Carlo.
On the way back, as we joined our group at the public lifts, we were told that we were bringing down the average age curve, quizzed on whether we were on our honeymoon, and generally teased because we seemed to like each other. In fact, several couples have commented on obvious recent nuptials, and shared that they have been married for 38, 44, and even 50 years. It is kind of nice.
We ended the evening by coming in second at the travel trivia (no prizes), and watching the comedian. To be honest, we were a little younger than his target audience, and thus we mostly groaned rather than laughed. He was a good entertainer however, and seemed to do pretty well. As we were sitting down, we heard from behind us, “Aww, it’s the honeymoon couple. Look, they’re cuddling again.”
We rode through Nice and the countryside as we approached Monaco, and then crested the hills at the beginning of the Alps, and the French Riviera opened before us. Quite spectacular. The weather was fine, and the views superb. Our first stop was the palace (Albert was home apparently, but no sightings, much to Angelique’s chagrin). Then the Cathedral where Princess Grace was married, and eventually entombed. We saw the tombs, and it was really quite sweet, as there were fresh flowers obviously put there every day by the various residents of Monaco, in addition to the official memorials.
At lunch, where 400 plus Americans violated every local noise ordinance, led by George Costanza’s mom, who managed to outshout everyone. She was of course sitting right behind Jene. I was seated across from Mikey from Phili, a guy about my age who had mugged George Michael and stolen his glasses, sweater, and hair highlights. We decided to skip desert and admire the architecture instead. Not to wallow in self loathing, as every culture has its faults, but to be honest, as a group, we were appalling loud, rude, and demanding. It is no wonder most of the world doesn’t like Americans.
Then the real trouble started, as Angelique could get us into the Casino in Monte Carlo. We took a short hop by bus, passing the Grand Prix route, and getting to see the not so Grand Prix (go carts- where Danica Patrick (?) got her start). Arriving at the casino, we had the pleasure of using the public lifts, as Monaco and Monte Carlo are basically clinging to the cliffs for dear life. Any thoughts we had of placing a few bets and pretending to be James Bond for a minute (ok, any thoughts I had) were quickly dashed, as they were only running roulette and black jack with 25 Euro minimums (about $35) or slots. Somehow playing the slots at the Casino in Monaco just doesn’t have the same cache.
So we went to a café, got mostly ignored by the waiter, practice what little French we knew (le sange es en su branche?!), watched the fancy cars and the beautiful people, and generally marveled that we were in Monte Carlo.
On the way back, as we joined our group at the public lifts, we were told that we were bringing down the average age curve, quizzed on whether we were on our honeymoon, and generally teased because we seemed to like each other. In fact, several couples have commented on obvious recent nuptials, and shared that they have been married for 38, 44, and even 50 years. It is kind of nice.
We ended the evening by coming in second at the travel trivia (no prizes), and watching the comedian. To be honest, we were a little younger than his target audience, and thus we mostly groaned rather than laughed. He was a good entertainer however, and seemed to do pretty well. As we were sitting down, we heard from behind us, “Aww, it’s the honeymoon couple. Look, they’re cuddling again.”
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