The country is still ruled by a monarchy, a similar lot to those who were overthrown eons ago in the French Revolution. The best thing I can say about Monaco is that the ride to it from Nice is nothing short of outstanding, with gorgeous mountain views and clear shots of the aqua-blue water at every breathtaking curve of the winding coastal road. Unfortunately, what follows upon arrival is a bit of a let down, if your taste is anywhere in line with mine.
Vence
Drove in from the coast, after a couple of days, to the hillside village of Vence. Honestly, I don’t know if I have the imagination or skill to describe the beauty of this place. It’s as if one of the most idyllic portraits of the French countryside has somehow sprung to life and we’ve had the good fortune to magically step into it. Here in Vence it appears as if a simpler, more enchanting era has been frozen in time.
Small stone buildings predate the existence of anything called America. They dot the mountainside, with their terra cotta roofs and shuttered windows, masterfully built into the sloping terrain. Down below, narrow streets wind through the village in no meaningful direction but somehow lead to one remarkable and historic place after another.
Woke up in the morning with the sun beating through the casement window of our hotel room, and the sounds of French children playing in the street. The village bell was striking nine. It was like a scene from the Twilight Zone, the one where the careworn city dweller blinks his eyes and somehow finds himself in the most pastoral setting imaginable.
Concerning the hotel, our host was somewhat short on manners (and somewhat short on towels) so, I can’t, in good conscious, recommend the accommodations. Vence, itself, however, is as magnificent as they come.
Cannes/Saint-Tropez
On the last leg of our journey we traveled to the cities of Cannes and Saint-Tropez. I suppose the optimal phrase to describe these places is Jet Set. Ancient buildings house elegant shops that sell top-of-line clothing and jewelry: Hermés, Cartier, Dior, et al.
The people, too, are elegant -- as one would expect. The men appear to be the sophisticated European types relaxing between jaunts to the two or three Mediterranean islands they own. The women are slender, fashionable things whose clothing appears to be painted on as flawlessly as their makeup.
A funny thing about the beaches at Cannes, though, they were inhabited with an older population, one in which I would guess the average age to be somewhere around 127, give or take a year. At night, however, the restaurants attract a younger, more vibrant crowd. The small alley of St. Antoine, in particular, houses a fashionable group who wine and dine through all hours of the evening.
Saint-Tropez, also lives up to its reputation as haunt for globe-trotters. Our visit was cursory, at best, so I can only supply limited information. I will say that the Saint-Tropez beaches are far more private and chic than those we experienced at Cannes. They are a bit tougher to access, however, being a few kilometers from the town’s center, but this probably accounts for the fact that they remain so beautiful and exclusive, so the extra effort to reach them is clearly worth it.
1997
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Amsterdam
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