Crossing Over

Since I left the window open through out the night, I was awakened by a cool breeze. I looked outside to a gray sky. A gray sky!

Could it be? I can't really be that lucky, can I?

I didn't have anything to do that day either, but I did have to check out of the hotel before 11.

I went down to breakfast a little later than the day previously. In retrospect, that may have been a mistake.

Blurry pic of brekki. Sorry. :(

The breakfast area was almost full. I took the same seat I took the day before and grabbed my muesli, coffee, compote, baguette and cheese- ready to fix a breakfast and a lunch. 
The second I sit down, a very large woman begins to talk to me in French. She seemed to be friendly enough, but when I said 'Je ne parle pas le français', she laughed and said in French 'you speak enough!' and continued to talk at me. And continued to talk at me. And continued to talk at me. Don't get me wrong, with all the travelling to foreign countries I've done over the years, I have the 'dumb look smile and nod' down. This technique is most commonly used in Asian countries, and by Asian girls to pretend they don't speak English. I've observed it and practiced it and can do it quite well. Even this technique didn't deter this woman. 

Despite this, I cut open my baguette and spread the cheese inside. I was hoping to be able to use the napkin as I had done the day before and save it. But NOOOOOOOO this woman WOULD NOT SHUT UP! Not only wouldn't she shut up, she wouldn't stop LOOKING AT ME. I had no idea what she was saying, and since I had seen her yakking at the manager/owner of the hotel I had no idea if she would rat me out. I was guessing there was a good chance she would. What could I do? Well, there was nothing left to it but eat the stuff. I nodded and smiled (sorta) through the whole process. I thought I was going to die. I was filled to the brim. And do you know that not the SECOND I had swallowed the last bite, that broad said in English "Good Idea", slit a baguette, spread cheese inside, wrapped it in a napkin and with a 'shhhhhhh' in my direction, slipped the whole damn thing in her bag!

Oh yeah, that happened.

 I rolled my stuffed self back up to my room to repack all of my crap. It was a little chilly so I put two sweatshirts on and crammed everything else into my roller bag. I had a nice supply of coins in my pocket. Of course I didn't have a portfolio to worry about... but I digress. 

I checked out of the hotel and hiked it down to the bust stop. Just as I was approaching, it started to drizzle. 

The sky was nice, so I took a few pictures.

It must have been a Cannes rush hour because there were a lot of people on the bus already. I had to take a seat facing backwards at the front of the bus behind a heavily perfumed and pungent man.

The riding backwards, cologne and starting and stopping did nothing for my over stuffed gut. I had to use some serious powers of concentration to keep all the breakfast down.

Eventually the smelly guy got off the bus and the almost fresh air helped. When we got to the Palais, it was a good full on rain. I love rain. I really do.

I got off the bus and moved to a different bus stop with a better view. There's just something poetic about sitting at an empty bus stop in the rain. 

I sat under the awning of the bus stop enjoying the rain and reading an ebook for at least an hour. It amused me to no end to watch all the people covering their LV or other couture bags/clothes running from the rain. Maybe I'm a bitch inside my head, but I did enjoy that, 

At some point an old French lady walked by and screamed at me. I don't really know why, but since I'd been screamed at so much by this time I'd gotten used to it. I pretty much just looked at her and went back to my reading. She went off, presumably to scream at someone else.

Eventually GC was able to get away to say goodbye. We chatted for a bit and found the express bus back to the airport. I realized that wasn't the bus I was looking for and set out in search of it. It was only a few yards away, conveniently by a snack shack selling glasses of wine for 1 euro. I couldn't resist a 1 euro glass of wine, so I pulled up my roller bag under the canopy and sat down to read and enjoy my wine.

Here are some more pics of the Cannes rain.

I was enjoying my book and wine when this interesting fellow decided that I'd be someone fun to talk to. From what I could gather from the bizarre info dump, he is a Golf Professor (which I'm guessing is the European version of a PGA trainer) who was born in the Bahamas, raised New York, works in Italy, is very wealthy and hates to fly. This conversation was constantly interrupted by way too frequent calls from a wayward girlfriend.  The guy (whose name I was never really clear on) bought me one or two other glasses of wine. I endured the odd conversation for as long as I could. watching the bus I needed come and go several times. An hour or two later, he directed me to a pay toilet in a shop next a liquor store. When I returned, I got on the next bus out.

It was during this long ass bus ride back to the airport when I had an epiphany. I realized then why the French so enjoy carbs. Cheap wine, coffee and bus rides do not mix. Despite the fact that my gut was already filled with cheese and carbs, I still felt like I'd need something to settle my stomach.

I was on this super modern bus that let you know where every stop was and how long it would take to get there. Despite this welcomed modern convenience, I fell asleep and opened my eyes just in time to jump off the bus. Don't do that. It's rather upsetting. Whatever the case, I got off the bus, walked to the airport and took the shuttle back to the other terminal. 

I tried to check in so I could go through security easy when no one was around, but could I? Nooooooooo! 

EasyJet has a policy where you can't check in until 60 or so minutes before your flight. That really sucks.

Ok, fine. So I had to go to the food court to get a snack. The cheapest thing I could find was a ham sandwich and sparkling water. I think this was right under 10 euros. 

As I sat there munching on my snack, something caught my eye. Oh what the hell? A pigeon had gotten into the terminal. Or maybe it was more than one. I'm really not sure. I did follow him for a while.

I got caught taking a picture of the vermin by a French business man who said, "A perfect example of hygiene in France." Of course I burst out laughing. He got up and moved away. I wonder how he knew I spoke English? 

Finally after about sixty billion years of waiting, EasyJet opened the gate and I could check in. Which I did. I breezed through Immigration and headed to the lounge. I really should get paid for visiting lounges. Seriously. 

Anyway, the lounge was nice and as expected, full of carbs. And more carbs, and various wines, coffee, liquor, cookies and weird pastry things. The soup or whatever the hot option was was no longer with us, so that sucks.

My stomach was still really pissed at me, so I didn't go for anything evil. Just a play-dough tasting pastry (seriously, WHAT IS THAT???) and a Diet Coke, in honor of Edie Baby. 

I enjoyed the lounge for all of 15 minutes when these other Americans, loud, drunk and really in love with themselves entered the lounge and ruined everything, I get it. Americans are rude and loud. Ah well. 

Due to weather, we kept getting updates that the flight might be delayed. And it was. I couldn't stand the Americans anymore, so I went down to sit at the gate. Even the promise of the solace of wine couldn't calm this annoyed breast. I felt like I was going to rip off a face or two.

So yes, the flight was delayed. And delayed. And yes, delayed. 

Finally, and I do mean FINALLY, we were able to board the damn plane. It had to be after midnight by this point. I was too tired and too annoyed to even bother looking. 

On the plane, I sat next to a teenage girl and her mom, so that was okay. I tried to sleep, but turbulence wouldn't allow it. Why would it?

Two hours later, we arrived at Gatwick. I didn't check my bag of course, so I just rolled myself to wait for the hotel shuttle.

Hmmm... what's different here? Oh yeah... It DROPPED ABOUT 30 DEGREES!   

And raining. Don't forget the raining. WTF? England? Everything was great when I left. I even worked up a sweat walking around. Now you betray me? You rat bastard. Fine.

About 30 minutes later a shuttle came. Is this the shuttle for my hotel? Well, yes it is, but he had to go to another hotel, then back to the airport. It will be about 45 minutes. BUT, I can take the ride if I like. Oh yes, I like. I do like. I will take this option.

I hopped onto the over heated bus. He drove to the other hotel. No one got off. No one got on. He drove to the airport. No one got off, no one got on... Sigh. 

Whatever. We were on the way to my hotel. Thank God.

I get to the hotel (The Gatwick Britannia, the same one as previous) and checked in. This had to be after 2 am. Again, I was afraid to look.

I get to my room, turn down the sheet and...

BEDBUGS!!!!!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? This really isn't happening is it? I had to consider my options:

I could scream. - Maybe.

I could cry. - Probably.

What I did was call the front desk. At first the guy at reception didn't know what I was talking about. Finally I said BUGS... INSECTS IN THE BED. Which lead to the question of: "Where in the bed?" Does it matter? There are BUGS IN THE BED!!!! It makes me itch just thinking about it.

A guy came to take pictures of the bugs and escort me to an upgraded room in the other building. He was almost apologetic, but not really. 

I'll only post a couple of  pictures so you won't be too grossed out. 

The upgraded room wasn't all that worth writing home about anyway. The guy told me to go look at the bed and make sure it had no bugs. I did, and invited him to do the same. We decided that it was bug free. 

It didn't matter how damn bug free the room was, there was no way on earth I was going to be able to sleep that night. I only had about four hours or so to doze, so I left my socks, jeans, and two sweat shirts with the hood pulled up over my head and tied tight. At least I could see the bugs coming at me, which I couldn't in the chair. 

So there I was, curled up like the Unabomber, (the poker player, not the nut job), trying to rest a little.

And that ends this very long day.

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!