And The Home of the Cave
May. 15th, 2012 09:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
peterbirksOne thing that I forgot to mention about yesterday. As the bus we were on passed through Monaco on its slow, slow way from Menton to Nice, a policeman stepped out into the road and held up the traffic as two outriders and a lead car came onto the main square from the road to Beausoleil. A Lexus behind the lead car, number plate MC01, stopped outside the Barclays Bank, and out stepped Prince Albert.
Perhaps the bank manager had called him in for "a friendly chat".
"Now, Mr Albert..."
"It's Prince".
"Sorry, Mr Prince".
"No, it's Prince Albert".
"I do apologize. Mr Prince Albert. We've asked you in for a chat because your account appears to be 503 euros overdrawn, compared with your allowed limit of 500 euros."
++++++
Today we headed to Cannes. As I've said before, life is too short to get the bus from Nice to Cannes, even if it does cost only one euro. So we caught the train.
From Cannes we got the boat to St Marguerite, and walked around the archaeological museum and the prison cells. Then we walked round the eastern side of the island. I didn't impose the 8km round-island walk on Craig.
An olde-worlde boat on the route to the island.
The Fort
The Archaeological museum inside the fort.
Inside the fort
A view from the fort
A butterfly
Another butterfly
At "Dragon's Mount" (nothing to do with Game of Thrones, honest)
Craig having a think as we awaited the boat.
On the island, awaiting the boat, playing with the self-timer.
The biggest motor yacht I have yet seen. It's brand new and presumably has been leased for a week for the Festival. The "Mogambo" is 74m, which I reckon makes it half the size of Abramovich's yacht. That, from looking at this, is unbelievably big.
As we reached the lake where there are meant to be lots of birds but all I have ever seen is seagulls, my phone rang. A slight problem at work sending out the newsletter. Truly, these days, we are never out of touch.
Later we did manage to see some pheasant - one male and two females (or, possibly, one male and one female, twice).
A view of the sea from the fort.
There were rather too many children around to make it a completely relaxing experience, but the island is still a fantastic haven. So much so that it's hard to readjust to the crowds when you return to the hustle and bustle of Cannes.
I managed to lose my lens cap on the island. Well, not exactly lose it. I'd placed it on top of a bin while I took a photo. The bin was surrounded by a wooden surround, buried into the ground. I accidentally swept the lens cap off the top of the bin, between the plastic bag and the wooden surround. It was visible, but quite out of reach.
I am just about to lose my lens cap. (On Eucalyptus Avenue).
Some strong winds hit this place occasionally.
This uprooted tree took up alf the path with it.
Awaiting the boat.
With the use of some twigs, I managed to sweep the lens cap to the other side of the bin, where there was a slight gap at the bottom, and we retrieved it.
On the island.
The lake on the island
The Cannes coast. There was a truck delivering lots of sand!
Today was the last day before the start of the 65th Cannes Film Festival, and the media people were out in force. The more that I see media people (PR, marketing, 'the money guys', etc, the less attracted I am to it and the less romantic it seems. 'The beautiful people' drinking their coffees and discussing stuff that they think is important but which is, of course, utterly divorced from reality.
in front of the Cannes entrance
The LONG queue for accreditation.
The chairs on the other side of the road from the main entrance. There appeared to be one woman who had parked herself in preparation for the appearance of the starts.
A "Ferrari" parked outside Cannes Railway Station.
FESTIVAL!!!!
After a swift return to the flat and a swift shop (we got the Marseilles express back from Cannes to Nice) we went out in search of food. The manner in which food was actually obtained at out first choice (Pnomh Penh, an interestingly named Vietnamese fast-food emporium) defeated us, so we carried on, stopping eventually at Pasta Basta in the Vieux Ville. Most definitely the slowest service this year, but the food was very good (fresh tagliatelle with a girolles and cream source, all for 13 euros? Yes please.) and, just, worth the wait. Pasta Basta would be an excellent choice either for lunch or out of season.
One highlight of the afternoon concerned the lift in the apartment block in which we are staying. The block was built in 1930 and has an, er, eccentric lift int he centre of the stairwell. It really only fits two people max (maximum weight is 225kg, which puts the pulling strength of the lift a fraction below the power of my legs) and has a manual outer door and two inner doors that swing inwards.
This afternoon the lift started, went up an inch or two, and stopped. No movement, no way of opening the external iron grill. After a few minutes Craig discovered that a bit of the inner door had, literally, fallen off. It was only the size of a pencil, but had fallen in such a way as to disable the lift.
Tomorrow, probably the Cap Ferrat coastal walk and the Rothschild garden.
Perhaps the bank manager had called him in for "a friendly chat".
"Now, Mr Albert..."
"It's Prince".
"Sorry, Mr Prince".
"No, it's Prince Albert".
"I do apologize. Mr Prince Albert. We've asked you in for a chat because your account appears to be 503 euros overdrawn, compared with your allowed limit of 500 euros."
++++++
Today we headed to Cannes. As I've said before, life is too short to get the bus from Nice to Cannes, even if it does cost only one euro. So we caught the train.
From Cannes we got the boat to St Marguerite, and walked around the archaeological museum and the prison cells. Then we walked round the eastern side of the island. I didn't impose the 8km round-island walk on Craig.
An olde-worlde boat on the route to the island.
The Fort
The Archaeological museum inside the fort.
Inside the fort
A view from the fort
A butterfly
Another butterfly
At "Dragon's Mount" (nothing to do with Game of Thrones, honest)
Craig having a think as we awaited the boat.
On the island, awaiting the boat, playing with the self-timer.
The biggest motor yacht I have yet seen. It's brand new and presumably has been leased for a week for the Festival. The "Mogambo" is 74m, which I reckon makes it half the size of Abramovich's yacht. That, from looking at this, is unbelievably big.
As we reached the lake where there are meant to be lots of birds but all I have ever seen is seagulls, my phone rang. A slight problem at work sending out the newsletter. Truly, these days, we are never out of touch.
Later we did manage to see some pheasant - one male and two females (or, possibly, one male and one female, twice).
A view of the sea from the fort.
There were rather too many children around to make it a completely relaxing experience, but the island is still a fantastic haven. So much so that it's hard to readjust to the crowds when you return to the hustle and bustle of Cannes.
I managed to lose my lens cap on the island. Well, not exactly lose it. I'd placed it on top of a bin while I took a photo. The bin was surrounded by a wooden surround, buried into the ground. I accidentally swept the lens cap off the top of the bin, between the plastic bag and the wooden surround. It was visible, but quite out of reach.
I am just about to lose my lens cap. (On Eucalyptus Avenue).
Some strong winds hit this place occasionally.
This uprooted tree took up alf the path with it.
Awaiting the boat.
With the use of some twigs, I managed to sweep the lens cap to the other side of the bin, where there was a slight gap at the bottom, and we retrieved it.
On the island.
The lake on the island
The Cannes coast. There was a truck delivering lots of sand!
Today was the last day before the start of the 65th Cannes Film Festival, and the media people were out in force. The more that I see media people (PR, marketing, 'the money guys', etc, the less attracted I am to it and the less romantic it seems. 'The beautiful people' drinking their coffees and discussing stuff that they think is important but which is, of course, utterly divorced from reality.
in front of the Cannes entrance
The LONG queue for accreditation.
The chairs on the other side of the road from the main entrance. There appeared to be one woman who had parked herself in preparation for the appearance of the starts.
A "Ferrari" parked outside Cannes Railway Station.
FESTIVAL!!!!
After a swift return to the flat and a swift shop (we got the Marseilles express back from Cannes to Nice) we went out in search of food. The manner in which food was actually obtained at out first choice (Pnomh Penh, an interestingly named Vietnamese fast-food emporium) defeated us, so we carried on, stopping eventually at Pasta Basta in the Vieux Ville. Most definitely the slowest service this year, but the food was very good (fresh tagliatelle with a girolles and cream source, all for 13 euros? Yes please.) and, just, worth the wait. Pasta Basta would be an excellent choice either for lunch or out of season.
One highlight of the afternoon concerned the lift in the apartment block in which we are staying. The block was built in 1930 and has an, er, eccentric lift int he centre of the stairwell. It really only fits two people max (maximum weight is 225kg, which puts the pulling strength of the lift a fraction below the power of my legs) and has a manual outer door and two inner doors that swing inwards.
This afternoon the lift started, went up an inch or two, and stopped. No movement, no way of opening the external iron grill. After a few minutes Craig discovered that a bit of the inner door had, literally, fallen off. It was only the size of a pencil, but had fallen in such a way as to disable the lift.
Tomorrow, probably the Cap Ferrat coastal walk and the Rothschild garden.
