Can Can

God knows I've done my share of Cancans

The day started like any other with the sun creeping up and my various alarms ringing in my face. I had all three of them set minutes apart hoping that if one fails at least I had two other chances to wake up.

Turns out I didn't really need that. My body clock was still off so my sleep was lighter than it usually is; which is to say I was mostly meditating.

The morning started out gray, but I was in bed and comfy. I had to get up and get ready for breakfast since I paid the extra euros for it.

I was going to make the most of it. 

I went down to breakfast and had a chat with a British guy who didn't give me his name. I didn't have any cards with me, so I told him I'd slide some under his door later.

My breakfast consisted of a delicious meusili with almonds and dried bananas, cafe au lait, orange juice and a compote, which is apple sauce. I also snagged a baguette and a couple of cheese packets to pack away for a lunch later. If I could get away with it.

I was able to get away with it, so I wrapped the baguette filled with cheese in a napkin and snuk back upstairs to get ready.

I had a belly full of carbs and coffee and no particular place to be so I took my time getting ready.

I packed up my Prada bag and my PGA bag with a change of clothes. I put my roll up travel hat on my head and dredged the 200 yards to the bus stop.

The number 2 bus picked me up. By this time I had the hang of handing the driver a 2 euro note, get the ticket and put it in the slot. I chose a seat at the rear of the bus next to a window to enjoy the scenery down to the Palais.

The bus made it's way into town. About one third of the way through the ride, a creepy guy got on the bus. You guessed it. He sat down next to me. 

I can't imagine how he took me for a tourist. Was it my hat? Was it because I was nice and not bitching about everything in French? Was it because I was looking at the passing scenery? Whatever the case, not only did he peg me for a tourist, he started up a conversation.

"Are you English? Are you married?" Both of which I answered in the positive, neither of which were true. Despite this fact, he proceeded to propose marriage to me and continued to convince me to divorce my imaginary husband and marry him. I found out he was a Christian man from Iran living in France as a chef but working under a man who uses him mercilessly and barely pays him anything. At this point I was confused by his courting tactic. Why would you tell a girl you wanted to marry that you were dirt poor? Am I missing something? Whatever the case, his stop arrived, he told me I was a wonderful person, said "God Bless You" and got off the bus. 

Not something that happens every day.

Anyway, I arrive at the Coisette and decide to walk down the coast a bit.

The festival/market takes place along a strip of hotels that face the water. It's about a mile or so walk in each direction. Parties are held at night. Sometimes along the strip, sometimes at a chateau up in the hills. Over the years the Cannes festival has become a haven of bad movies, bad acting and all around self-aggrandizing douchebaggery. This year was no different.

Beach Stage

They did seem to have more boats this year.

Self-Aggrandizing Douchebaggery

Boats

Someone left a screening schedule on a bench and I browsed through it. Nothing really caught my eye. I texted Gentleman Calvin and after a few minutes of being lost and walking in the wrong direction, I met up with him at the Pontiero. He got me into the 'villiage' as a guest, and I walked through to the Film France pavilion.

What does any of that mean?  When you buy a badge to the full market, you are also given access to all the vendors that are showing their wares. This includes the distribution companies selling the films, other companies showing off things like cameras and audio equipment and the Film Commissions. The job of the film commissions is to court various film and tv producers and educate them on the locations and incentives for bringing projects to that particular area. It's all quite boring if you don't know or care about such things.

Actually I can't say that. According to the Gentlemen Calvin, this particular woman visits the Festival every year. No one knows who she is or what she does, but she goes around every day to the various film commissions and gets coffee, sandwiches, or whatever it is that the commission likes to offer their guests. When there is a party she can weasel her way into, she gets on her cell phone and alerts her cronies. The Old Lady Brigade then descends upon the party en mass. From what GC says, this has been going on for at least 13 years. I tried to follow her, but since my detecting skills are much better in fiction than in fact, the old bag got away.

Outside of the World Village Renaud displayed my new car. Thanks Renaud.

Object of my desire.

By this time, GC was quite starving. He invited me to lunch. We went to a place not too far from the Pontiero, but a lot less 'Cannes' than other places. It was wonderful. I learned a new word - GAMAS, which I should have known since it is French and means shrimp. Rather embarrassing, but VERY delicious. I forgot to take a photo before I ate it, so I took one after.

Mmmmmm

Walking back from lunch, I was introduced to a game called Boules. It's rather like... well actually, I have no idea, but it seems to be a favorite with old men in the South of France.

Old man game... no idea

GC had to get back to work, but before we parted, he gave me an invitation to a party that night being hosted by the Guyana Film Commission. I readily accepted. 

Of course I could have taken the bus back to my hotel, but I was in Cannes for a reason and I was going to make the most of it.

A lot of what goes on at the Cannes Festival is hanging around hotels and hoping to run into someone with who, you can network. Okay, I'll do that. I took the mile long walk down the coast to the Carlton Hotel. It's a left over from the days of the Grand Hotels. Nothing special today, but back in the day... it was indeed the place to be. I crept up on the Carlton and considered hanging out on the patio. I looked up at the sun and decided against it. I was able to find a nice table inside. I sat down and ordered a cafe au lait.

Now I know I have mentioned in the past that Cannes was expensive. Let me re-iterate ad nausem, Cannes is expensive. Behold, I give you a cup of coffee. 10 Euros. Once more. 10 Euros, that's about 14 bucks on this side of the world. For a CUP OF COFFEE. Here's the rub. I was chatting with the nice lady at my table and the waiter came over, demanded payment since he was going off the clock then proceeded to take 1/2 of my 14 dollar coffee away. Seven bucks of my coffee whisked away like nothing.

14 bucks for this gem.

The nice lady saw my distress and bought me a glass of wine. How kind! She was very nice and the wine came with nuts, olives and potato chips (crisps to my UK pals).

Nice lady and wine.

 Several hours and a lot of gossiping and laughing at creepy predator looking 'producers', the lady excused herself to go take care of her mom. Evidently when not in the festival/market season, Cannes is a haven for the elderly. Who knew? I finished my wine in relative solitary comfort. I went into the restroom to change clothes for the party later that evening. 

I wore a Versace one shoulder sleeveless dress with a scarf wrapped around my protruding gut. I put on nice earrings and choker necklace. I only realized later tat this was a mistake since from certain angles my neck fat overlapped the choker. Lesson learned.

I felt rather 'rebel chic' in my rain boots and finery trudging back down the cost to the village. It made me smile to think I was snubbing my nose at the whole Cannes mystique. 

I changed my shoes outside of the village and went in to the party.

Squabbling for the goods

I have to say, it was quite the to-do. No, I didn't see the old lady.  The Guyana Film Commission put on a really nice spread. I learned that in France, lining up is not really a 'thing'. Being American, that meant that I didn't get to try much of what was on offer. I just couldn't bring myself to push my way through to try stuff. Oh well. It was fun anyway. The various VIP's got up to speak in French. Interestingly, I was able to understand them. I mentioned this to GC and he said that it made sense because they were speaking with an Island accent. Evidently, this French is more closely related to the French I hear in my region. Okay, maybe not interesting to anyone else, but I thought so. 

Around midnight, I headed back to the bus area to await the Night Bus. I like the idea of a night bus. It's a bus for all the party goers that need a ride home. They don't come as often, but it's a safe ride. I hadn't gotten my fair share of grub at the party. I'm pretty sure the corpulent fellow with the 13 pieces of chicken on his plate took care of that for me, but I still had my cheese and baguette! I snacked on that as I waited for the bus.

The bus came, and because it was dark, I got off at the wrong stop and had to walk about another mile in the same direction to get to my hotel. 

I didn't mind this experience. I walked over some type of reservoir that was teeming with very loud and excitable wildlife. I let my imagination get the best of me, and I'm certain I heard a Loup Garou. Not that I would know what they sound like, but you know...

Loup Garou - French werewolf. 

I got back to the hotel unscathed, punched in the night time code and took the elevator back up to my room. After a nice shower, I fell into bed with the French infomercial channel to lull me to sleep. I still want those plastic work out shorts.

Wouldn't mind these

This brings to close my day in Cannes.

The Haps on Cannes -Getting There - Adendum (which can also be spelled Addendum - take your pick)

Nice Aeroport to Cannes - A Practical Guide

This Addendum is being written to actually illustrate the journey from the Nice Aeroport in Nice, France to Cannes, France - home of Film Festivals, Television Markets, beaches, old folks and other 'hoity toity' things.


Preface:

Cannes is pronounced Can. As in tin, trash, soda, aluminum or of soup. It is singular. If you prefer to say it with a Parisian accent, you will remove the 'n', so you say CA-.
If you are in the general vicinity and pronounce it CANS, or God forbid
Khan, as in 'The Wrath Of...', you may be looked at oddly, be pushed past, screamed at or slapped. You have been warned. 

When you arrive at the Nice Aeroport, you will have several options to get you to the city of Cannes.

The locals will usually take the train. It is, well a train. It doesn't take too long, on about a 1/2 hour or so and can be quite convenient. 

You can book tickets here:
Train Tickets

I personally have not experienced this option so I cannot comment upon it. Check back from time to time as I may rectify this as soon as possible.

The most popular option is the Cannes Express Shuttle

This option is good if you have more than one piece of carry on luggage, are pressed for time and have a few extra euros to spare. At the time of this writing, the Express Shuttle costs 39 euros round trip. The ride takes about 30 minutes and will drop you off by the main bus terminals in Cannes. 

You may also feel the need to hire a private car to get you to your place of residence while staying there. This too is a good option if it is your first time in Cannes, you are not familiar with French or are an Entertainment Professional trying to make a good impression. You can also rent a car if you're fearless and want to traverse the highways.

More information can be found at this location:

Airport Shuttles

and
Europe Car Rental

If you find yourself with a little more time, a little less funds and a little less luggage, a much better option is the local bus line.

Buses are well utilized in France, so you can usually find one anywhere you go. This is a guide to take you from the airport to the Cannes bus terminal on the coast. The ride takes about 2 hours and will cost all of 1.5 euros - at the time of this writing.


Step 1:  If you fly internationally to the Nice Aeroport, chances are you will land at Terminal 2. If you are hiring a car, taking the Express or going by local bus, you will need to get to Terminal 1. Simply walk out the glass doors and look for this sign:

Wait for the shuttle. It is free and will drop you off at a similar sign at the corresponding terminal. You may have to make a few stops to various car parks along the way, but it will get you there within 10 minutes or so.

When you reach Terminal 1, you can choose to rent a car, take the Express or take the local bus. The Express office is right in front of you. There will be a glass door to go through, and a person behind the desk to take your reservation. If you choose to take the local bus, do not go in there and ask for the bus to Cannes. If you feel lost at this point, you can ask for the bus to the Palais de l'Anglais, but you shouldn't need it by following these steps.

Step 2: Walk away from the shuttle to cross the street. Look down. You will see a red and white walk way that looks like this:

Follow that walkway across the street and car park and rental car. You'll know you're in the right place if you see cars around you. In about 20 feet, you'll find yourself here:

Step 3:  Walk along the red path:

Follow the red path seen above until you go just under the bridge. As the bridge is above you, take the path to the left and up the stairs.

Step 4:  The path and stairs will lead you up to a side walk. Turn right and walk 10 feet to the bus stop with this sign:

Wait for the TAM 200 bus. They come rather often so the wait shouldn't be long.

It is a good idea to have some change available. The bus drivers don't usually have massive amounts of change on them. And you will probably be screamed at if you give the driver a 10 euro note. You can get change by buying a snack or other small item in the airport. Trust me, change is good. Hand the bus driver a 2 euro coin and they will give you a coin and a ticket in return.

Step 5: PUT THE TICKET IN THE SLOT. There are more than one type of slot things on different buses, so I can't be specific about where it is. It can be right next to the driver or a little behind them, but be sure to do it. Sometimes the ticket has to be turned upside down, but be sure to do it or you will be screamed at. Being screamed at takes a little while to get used to, but if you're like me and it happens on a regular basis, you do indeed become accustomed to the beratement.

Step 6: Stay on the bus. This may seem like a stupid thing to say, but it isn't. You'll be on the bus longer than you think. Of course if you want to get off and walk around about 1 hour through, there are beautiful small villages and towns to do so. I do recommend doing this at some point. The shopping is cheaper than in Cannes and you can experience a less 'touristy' environment. Just remember your way back to that bus stop since you will want to get back on the TAM 200 bus to continue your journey.

Step 7: Get off the bus in Cannes. This is an aerial view of the bus terminal: 

As you can see, there are many bus stops, This is how you'll know you're in the right place. This is also where the bus ends. Chances are you'll be kicked out of the bus here so you really can't go wrong.

From here, you can easily find a taxi to your accommodation. They quite wisely hang around this area. Just be sure to have your final destination printed out so the driver can type the address into their GPS.  

For the return journey, if you still feel up to the TAM 200, the return journey begins with the bus facing the opposite direction. The bus stop is next to the snack bar. At the time of this writing, the snack bar next to the bus stop was selling glasses of wine for 1 euro. A good way to pass the time between buses. As on the way to Cannes, the TAM 200 comes often, so don't feel bad about enjoying a glass or two.

If you get lucky, you will find yourself on a super snazzy modern bus that has an electronic display that tells you the time and place of each stop. If you have one of these, you are quite lucky and getting back to the aeroport is easy. If not, keep an eye on the time, you'll know it's about a 1 1/2 to 2 hour ride. The view of the aeroport from the bus stop looks like this:

When you see that, get off of the bus and follow the same directions back to Terminal 1.

If you just can't, can't, can't do the return journey via the TAM 200, there is an express bus you can catch. It will pick you up on the road facing the water. I don't know how to book such a ticket, but I'm sure the price is about 30 euros. It will bring you back to Terminal 1 at the aeroport.

A Word To The Wise:  

If you're going to Cannes for the Film Festival, be aware that there are some seriously talented pick pockets that enjoy making sport of everyone. Not just the tourists. I have a French friend whose mother-in-law was visiting during the festival and her wallet was picked from right out of her handbag. In an instance such as this, I would suggest keeping your passport as close to your person as possible, even if you plan on wearing a skimpy outfit or bikini on the beach. Just be wise about it or you'll spend a very long time filling out one of these:

Happy Travels!

Too To Tuesday!

Ah Tuesday.  If you've been following this blog, you may have realized that it has taken a while for me to post this day. In all honesty, I really don't know where to begin or what to say. Let's see how it goes.

2:30 AM rolls around and I crawl out of bed. I take a quick shower. The light in the bathroom was out, so I had to use the overhead light and hope my makeup wasn't ala Pennywise.

I repack all of my belongings and head to the other building to buy my shuttle ride back to Gatwick Airport. I turn in my key card and pay my 7 quid. It's 4 AM. How busy can it be?

Turns out REALLY REALLY busy. I suppose no one else has anything to do at that time in the morning. Since EasyJet doesn't have a ticketing kiosk, I had to wait in a long line. I get my boarding pass and so on and go through security.

Fantastic! I have about 30 minutes to hang out in the lounge. Yay!

 Not too bad a selection. They have various hard liquors like rum, vodka, tequila and a bunch of other things I'm not familiar with. They had cereals and pastries for breakfast and ham and cheese sandwiches, coffee, tea, wine and beer. I can't remember what I ate besides a ham sandwich- in keeping with the 'I'm going to France' theme, but I did have orange juice with rum, I think. Yes it was 5:30 AM. DON'T JUDGE ME!

Less than an hour later, I was on the plane in m pre-arranged aisle seat. There was a guy next to me but no one next to him. The two of us waited anxiously for the doors to close. They did. The guy moved over and we had a free seat between us. For the next two hours, I was drifted into a spacious and blessedly screaming sprog-free flight. Maybe a 6:00 flight is the way to go. Seems like things are looking up.

Ahh France!

Insert stereotypical French accordion music here. Oh wait, I already did it for you.

The plane landed. As one usually does, I gather my belongings, including my super tech jacket, my portfolio and my rollerbag and head into the arrivals terminal.

I breeze through immigration as most people were of the EU and there were maybe four non EU passport holders. I see the welcomed sight of the Restrooms and head inside.

What a pleasant surprise. The doors open OUTWARD. That's right OUTWARD so you can actually  get in with your luggage and close the door. US airports, please take note. This was such a small but very appreciated luxury.

Since my power adapter had crapped out on me and my devices were now dead, I figured the right course of action was to purchase one in the airport. Yes, I knew this would be expensive, but since I had no idea where a Target, Best Buy, or random electronic store was in this strange land, it was the only option I had. 

Luckily, there was such a beast in the airport. I grab all of my belongings and pick out a nice one. Well that's a lie, I get the only one the have. I was in a little bit of a bind an beggars can't be choosers.

I go to the cash register to pay for it. Put my portfolio down, place my tech jacket over it and dig in my bag for my wallet. I sign the credit card slip, put my wallet back, pick up my jacket and...

NO PORTFOLIO!!!!!

I don't even know how they did it!  As you can imagine, I was in a state. Of course the first thing I did was check my passport. I had it. Thank God! I felt down the other pockets of my jacket and everything was there.

Ok, maybe I dropped it over by the adapter display? I wheeled back over there. Nope.  The bathroom?  Wheeled over there. Nope. Anywhere in between? Nope. Nope. NOPE.

OMG!!!! What to do? Twenty years of acting notes, headshots, snippets on casting directors' offices, student ID's... GONE. Along with that, all confirmation codes for this trip, addresses to where I'm staying, maps and directions on how to get to various places. Yes, I'm very efficient that way.

At this point I'm beside myself. I ask around and find the Aeroport Policia. Just kill me now. In a nutshell, I spent three hours with this guy going from place to place asking if anyone turned in a portfolio- which of course the didn't. I had to answer questions like... where are you staying here?  I don't know, that information was in the portfolio. Where are you staying in England. I don't know the addresses, that information was in the portfolio. Over and over again.

Even though I did feel like I was facing the French Inquisition, truth be told, they were rather nice about it.

Copy of my Police Report

By this time, I was distraught, upset and really, really wanted to go back to civilization. I go to the EasyJet counter and ask if there were a way to change my ticket from two days from then to the next flight out. I could, yes, but it would cost more. I didn't care. I said... hook it up! The lady punched in my credit card and...

 WTF???? No, seriously... WTF????  Ok, this is ridiculous. Was there internet here?  (Obviously I was thinking about charging my devices, at least one anyway, to figure this out). Oh yes, there is a kiosk right behind you.

I'm sorry... kiosk?  Yep, this bitch.

Because wi-fi hasn't come to Nice as of yet...

Fine. I slide some Euros - that's six euros for about 20 minutes. If you print something, that's 3 minutes of time. Fine. I stick the money in and the thing turned on. Ah crap. Stupid FRENCH KEYBOARD!!!!!

I'm pretty sure I banged my head against the thing several times getting dirty looks from passers by. I didn't care.

I finally figure out how to get the damn thing to work and log into my email. Oh look at this... 

Account frozen due to suspicious activity. Fantastic. Just... great.

I shoot off a couple of panic emails home. Things like 'Please help!' and 'For the love of God, please help me unlock my account!'

Since I couldn't buy a ticket out, I'm stuck in France for a while. I had to print out stuff. All of my stuff.

This is lesson I learned from my friend who shall not be named except for the moniker - The Very Talented Senta (we'll stick with TS for short). She was detained at Heathrow for several hours for having a one way ticket and no itinerary. Always have physical evidence kids. Don't rely on the interwebs for everything.

It cost 3 minutes a page, so I was pumping Euros into that thing like an old school video game. F@#$(%ing France.

Eventually I had enough print outs to get to the hotel in Cannes, get on the plane to England, stay in the various hotels in England conformation email of my class, and confirmation code for the flight home. I think I was good.

I fold up my printouts and try to find my way to Cannes.

I won't go into the exact directions on how to get from the Nice aeroport to Cannes in this blog, but if you're interested, I will add an adendum.

I do have to stop and pontificate for a second here.  Cannes is pronounced CAN. As in 'tin' or 'soup'. It's singular. Do not pronounce the 'S'. If you really want to be authentic, don't pronounce the 'n'. Now listen, I know a lot of lying jackasses in the entertainment world, and if you pronounce Cannes like 'cans of soup', I'm going to doubt you've ever been. And for God's sake, if you pronounce it like The Wrath Of, I'll know your a @#$%ing. liar! It's like pronouncing New York 'Neeewww  Y  Ork.'  Just say it right for flip's sake. I will remove my soap box now.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Moving along...

I get to the bus stop with my rollerbag and coat feeling somewhat naked and sad without my portfolio. The TAM 200 bus finally comes and I get on and give my 2 Euro coin to the bus driver. He gives me a ticket and a coin in return.

I go to sit down and the ENTIRE BUS starts screaming at me. I think what was happening was that I was supposed to slide the card into a slot. Screaming at someone helps this. 

At some point during the bus ride I must have fallen asleep. I was still asleep when I got off the bus for no particular reason. The scenery looked like Cannes. At least there was a coast and some boats, so it had to be Cannes, right?

Turns out it wasn't Cannes. It was Antibes. A cute little French town about an hour outside of Cannes. Of course I didn't realize this at the time and wandered about aimlessly for about two hours before I realized I was in the WRONG CITY! With my broken French, I was able to ask around for the bus stop and sat there for another hour waiting for the bus.

If you have the time and the inclination to check out quaint little French towns, I recommend taking a couple of hours detour. Not if you're in my state of mind. Then it sucks. I did try to enjoy it though. I really tried.

Antibes

An hour or so later I end up at the main bus terminal in Cannes. I was done, over it. I had no idea what the hell time it was and I didn't want to be around any humans. I found a cab, showed him the address of the hotel, handed him some Euros and got in the damn thing.

A few minutes later we pull up at the Hotel les Tourrades.

I found this rather amusing as it was right on top of a McDonalds. Why this amused me? I'm not sure, but it did.  I rolled my bag inside and got the room key. 


Now I know I have an active imagination. I know I can from time to time be a little bit of a drama queen. I'm also aware that I am not a forensic scientist, but I have studied blood spatter - kinda like Dexter.  After all, if the fatal day happens where I commit well justified matricide, I have to know how to cover it up. 

Whatever the case, I get to my room and find what I would only describe as 'back spatter' on the wall. That happens when you stab someone, pull out the knife and have another go. Certainly looks like a cast off pattern to me.

Oddly enough, after the day I'd had, this didn't bother me. I had free wi-fi, I had a charger converter, I had a bed and I was damn happy. I spent a few minutes communicating via Google Chat finding out how my accounts were or weren't unfrozen. As it was the wee hours of the morning state side, I had to disconnect. 

I decided to  let my devices charge while I went out to forage for food. Have I mentioned that Cannes is expensive? Cannes is expensive. Audaciously so. The first thing I did was hit up the Micky D's downstairs. This is what awaited me: 

Now let's do some conversions.   At the time of this writing, the Chicken McNuggets you see there second from the left are 6 for 6.80 Euros. That's $9.21!!!!! for nuggets! You can get 4 off the dollar menu!  I don't care if it comes with 13 beverages and 7 free ice creams, I'm not paying 10 bucks for nuggets. Nope, nadda, not thank you. Call me cheap, not going to do it!

So I walked around a little bit and found a supermarket. In I go. I was done spending excessive amounts of money. I wandered aimlessly through the aisles and picked up a few things. I needed water. Yes I know you can drink the tap water in France. I just wasn't about it, so I bought some. I also got some sparkling water, a ham sandwich and a bottle of wine. All of this was less than 5 euros. Eat that McDonalds!

I get to the self check out and ring up my stuff. Then I slide in my card. Will it work? 

 I don't know if my card was blocked, they didn't take it because it wasn't chip and pin, they didn't take it because it was a US one... whatever. All I know is that I drew the ire of an irate French woman that took great pleasure in screaming at me, slamming a ton of buttons on the machine, pulling out my card and pulling out about seven receipts, slapping all this into my hand and throwing her hands in the air. To this day I don't know what the hell that was about, but I think I got my goods for free. 

At that point, I tucked my tail between my legs, took my free food back to the hotel and spent the evening with myself watching French infomercials. Tomorrow was another day...

I apologize for how long it took to post this day's events. It was a hard one to get my head around.