Monaco & EZE

Saturday, April 10th Cannes, France

We were up later this morning and had breakfast in the Terraces. An omelet O’Brien was tasty. Topside, we viewed the Canne harbor. The city is a classic hillside, semi-circle, surrounding a pretty fancy harbor. A mantle of snow-capped mountains provided a picturesque backdrop. Several eighty and hundred-foot power yachts lay at anchor in the upscale marina, attesting to the city’s glamourous reputation. We met in the star dust lounge at 8:45 A.M. and got our bus tickets for the Canne, Nice, Eze, Monaco tour. The name sounded like a fancy law firm. The ship lay at anchor just out from the marina. We were tendering into the harbor today. The ship had several of the motorized tenders shuttling passengers back and forth from the shore. We entered our boat and waited until the craft filled with passengers, then slowly motored into shore, where our bus was waiting. We met our driver, Krista and guide, Mandice at the bus and set out for the day.

The Canne waterfront surrounds the marina, a central square, filled with Sycamore trees, and replete with several cafes and their ubiquitous outside tables and chairs. It completed the portrait of a tourist-oriented playground. We drove down the grand boulevard, Avenue Crossette and viewed the huge hotels, the site of the international film festival and even a statuesque column to the emperor, Napoleon.

We entered the A-8 Autostrade and drove through Nice and on towards Monaco, some 90 kilometers miles further along the fabled Cote’ d’azur. The Mediterranean Sea sparkled a dazzling blue against the bright sun and lighter blue of the sheltering sky. A painter could not have created a more beautiful backdrop. Renoir had spent his last 11 years here. inspired by the light and the scenic vistas. The rocky Cap d’antib stood out against the skyline, as we drove along the coast. An interesting collection of brick-faced apartments, all shaped in the form of tan pyramids, caught our eye towards the shoreline. We were now on the “middle corniche (cliff) road.” Most of the coast, in this area, is a very steep hillside that slopes precipitously towards the Mediterranean. It is traversed, from East to West, by three roughly parallel roads called appropriately, the “Lower corniche” (closer to the sea) the middle corniche ( which we now traversed) and the “upper corniche”, higher above us. The views are spectacular all along the roadway.

As we entered the Principality of Monaco, Mandice gave us a synopsis of its history. Francois Grimaldi, the founder of the line, came to the area in 1297, with a small army of soldiers, all disguised as monks. They attacked the surprised Genoese defenders and overwhelmed them, taking possession of the area and declaring it the Principality of Monaco. To symbolize this, you now see emblems of two monks, with swords raised, all over Monaco. The whole” country” is carved from the cliff’s side, with terraced sections up and down the mountain. A smaller section beneath and along the water, had been reclaimed from the sea. It now serves as the center of the country’s business section. The population of the Monaco is comprised of 10,000 French, 10,000 Italians, 5,000 Monagasque (natives) and a sprinkling of other nationalities. There literally is a “waiting list” to live here. Residents pay no income taxes, thanks to casino revenues, and are generally well heeled, even by Monagasque standards.

Krista parked our bus at a huge garage on the cliffside. We followed a nicely trimmed walkway to the “Roche” (rock) area, so named because it had literally been carved from the cliffside rock. We walked along the Boulevard San Martin, passing two pricey homes that housed the royal daughters, and stopped to visit the Church of the Immaculate Conception. It is impressive enough, but the real treasure, for Americans, is to walk by a simple grave stone, amidst ancient Monagasque royalty, embedded in the floor near the main altar. It reads “Gratia Patricia” and houses the remains of Philadelphia-born film star, Grace Kelly. She had been killed in a car accident, on the Upper Corniche Rd., some ten years ago.

From the church, we walked over to the Palace Square. The crenelated battlement of the original castle had been added to over the generations to produce an odd hybrid. Although it is distinctive, it is not particularly noteworthy. The crowds were assembling for the noon changing of the guard at the Palace. The Prince was in residence. The police were cordoning off a route from the Palace to the Church, for the royal family, and clearing traffic from the streets. It was Easter Saturday and an afternoon mass was planned. The sun was shining brightly overhead, the Mediterranean sparkled blue in the distance and a fairy tale changing of the guard was in progress for a fairy tale prince. This was a Hans Christian Anderson day-dream flashing before us in the brilliant noon day sun. We admired the “Jardin Martin” that runs along the boulevard. It was an elegantly manicured parkland from which to stare out over the sapphire blue Mediterranean. Mandice also mentioned the “Cap Martin” nearby. Someone with our surname (Martin) must have either been on the ground floor founding this place or donated half of the land for its creation.

Mandice rounded us up. We had much yet to see today. Reluctantly, we left the ”Roche” area, with its palace and fairy tales, and returned to the bus. We were having lunch in “La Chaumiere,” a picturesque, mountainside restaurant with a killer view of all of Monaco and the mediteranean beyond. We sat with Stan and Marilyn, from 1,000 oaks, California and enjoyed their company. Several flagons, of a decent , house, red wine, accompanied salad, pasta, cheesecake and cappuccino. These lunches, though pleasurable, were starting to be killers.

After lunch, we boarded the bus and drove through the Principality. Along the roadside, at several intersections, sit scale, bronzed models of Le Mans race cars, denoting the world famous auto race that roars through the streets of Monaco every May. We parked at another huge garage and took the elevators and escalators up to a small plaza that houses the Monaco Opera house. It looked properly impressive for a principality. The formal nights here must be a pageant in and of themselves. Parkland, with a view of the sea, lay all along the periphery of this area, even atop three-story apartment complexes. Why haven’t we learned how to do this yet?

Mandice turned us loose, to roam for an hour or two. Next to the opera, lies something right out of a James Bond film, the Grand Casino. Parked out front today, were an Aston Martin, two lamberghini’s, several Jaguars, the odd couple of lesser Mercedes and a row of other luxury cars, with an attendant to watch over them. The grand staircase leads in to this fantastic palace to gaming. The Casino charged 10 euros each to enter, and also wanted us to check our cameras. We passed on the privilege and watched for a time the ebb and flow of tourists walking in and out. Directly in front of the casino, and rising upwards to a level of the city some 50 feet above, are a series of terraced fountains and floral gardens all bedecked in colorful flags and pendants. We walked about the beautiful parkland, enjoying the flowers, the bright colors and the activity in and around the casino. It only added to the fairy-tale image we already had of this tiny principality. The American casino is kitty-corner to the grand casino and also impressive. We walked in and changed 20 euros for official 2-euro gambling chips. These, we fed into the video gambling machines with some effect. Mary and I won $150 in a short time and enjoyed the feeling of gambling in Monte Carlo. Bond we weren’t, but hey, who is? Fortunately, we had a very brief time to spend and had to leave before we put the money back into the machines. On the way out, we passed Stan and Marilyn. A double scotch at the bar for both had cost them 51 euros. Wow, that is some pricey scotch!

From Monaco, we drove upwards to the “Upper Corniche” Road, along the cliff face. We passed by the broken guard rails where Grace Kelly’s car had careened off the cliff. I guess they keep it unrepaired as a tribute to mark her passing. This was pretty high up on the mountain. Anyone going over the side wouldn’t have much of a chance in surviving.

We were headed to the nearby hilltop-village of EZE (ezze). From a distance, this remote village blended into the surrounding hillside. It had been designed to do so, to hide from the marauding Saracen pirates of long ago. We parked at a small bus area and hiked into the tiny village. The walk up the hill, over narrow, winding and cobble stoned alleys, was a breath taker. But, the quaint artist shops and medieval battlements were worth the hike. A colorful garden tops the small village. We wandered its narrow alleys, dodging other tourist who had been game enough for the walk. We found and entered an elegant hostelry called “Chateau de la Chevre d’Or,” roughly, the “house of the golden goat. “ The bar was comfortable and clubby. A small terrace outside is the real attraction. As we sipped pricey cappuccino (18 euros),we gazed out over the sapphire blue of the Mediterranean far below. It would be wonderful to stay here for a few days to enjoy the view and the air. The walk up to the village discouraged most. Far below in the village, a small shed houses two donkeys who used to ferry people and luggage to this pricey Inn, in the mountains above Monaco. We enjoyed the scenery and each other’s company in this fairy tale setting. It is here, in the village below, that we met and talked to Peter and Julia Martin for the first time. They are Brits from Brighton. We had noticed them on a few tours and decided to ask them to join us for dinner this evening. They agreed, perhaps wondering at the forwardness of yankees in soliciting social engagements. Manners got the better of them though and they agreed to meet us later in the evening for dinner.

From quaint and medieval EZE, we descended to the Middle Corniche Road for the picturesque ride into nearby Nice. As we approached the tourist mecca, the vistas were fabulous. Czar Nicholas of Russia, and Queen Victoria of England, and scores of lesser roalty, had been frequent visitors to the area. Cap D’antibe, and the sparkling blue Mediterranean, are things you could look at all day. I smiled momentarily, remembering an episode from the Television series, “The Sopranos.” The main character had unknowingly parroted a remark he hard from his shrink, referring to “Captain Tebes” as an elegant place to visit. He was referring to Cap D’Antib, but didn’t know the difference. We noticed that many of the stately older villas,along the roadway, were in some state of decline. No one gave any explanation. Perhaps urban decay even affects fairy tales? Elton John has a hillside villa here that the locals point to it with great pride.

The harbor marina held several very large yachts at anchor. Nearby, three bums slept in a park area. Even fairy tales have a seamy side. Along the waterfront, pricey hotels dominate the grand boulevard for a stretch of seven kilometers. Across the roadway , from the hotel and along the seaside, run a similar lengthy of beaches. Above the beaches runs an elevated promenade upon which throngs of natives and tourists were walking. The beaches sported colorful names like “Miami,” and ‘Opera.” In the Summers, this place must really rock and roll!

From Nice, we took the Lower Corniche Road back towards Canne. It was closing on 6 P.M. as we entered the crowded Canne waterfront and parked near the Norwegian Dream. A few buses had gotten there before us and the line for the tenders was long. Mary and I reversed course and walked along the marina and haborside, into the main square of Canne. Artists, and vendors of all sorts, were packing up their gear for the day. It was too chilly to sit in the outdoor cafes, so we walked the length of the area, drinking in the sights and sounds of a place that we would never perhaps return to. It was getting late and cooling off, so we walked back to the dock and stood patiently in the long line for the tender ride back to the ship.

-30-

Joseph Xavier Martin