Provence & Cote d'Azur - Monaco

The Principality of Monaco, a sovereign state, seems somewhat an anomaly in modern European politics.  It is almost like a fiefdom affiliated to France, bordered on 3 sides by France and on one side by the Mediterranean sea.  It is tiny - only 2 square km - and only has 30,000+ residents, of which less than 5,000 are actually Monegasque subjects.  The rest own residence permits to either benefit from the absence of income tax, or perhaps they just like to have some place to spend some serious money.  

It is one of the world's most densely populated countries.  Here you can see the road where the annual F1 race takes place. 

Another view of the rocky outpost that became Monaco.

Another gratuitous shot of the harbour of Monaco

Monaco also has the world's most expensive real estate market.  This odd hammer-shaped studio apartment of 30 sqm is going for EUR 1.5m, and it's not even in the city center. 

The story of Monaco is captivating.  Up to the end of the 13th century, Monaco was a colony of Genoa in Italy.  In 1297, Francesco Grimaldi, a member of the powerful House of Grimaldi in Genoa, together with a few of his men, dressed as monks, knocked on the door of the fortress protecting the Rock of Monaco (I was not lying when I said this place is just a big piece of rock) in the middle of the night asking for shelter.  Once they entered, they captured the fortress, and became rulers of the place.  Except for one century of dispute, the House of Grimaldi ruled Monaco since then, and the current Prince Albert II is a direct descendant.  Talk about a successful coup d'etat...

Today, the coat of arms of the House of Grimaldi in Monaco sports 2 men dressed as monks brandishing swords 

Of course, the other captivating story about Monaco is the marriage of the American actress Grace Kelly to Prince Rainer III in 1956.  Who doesn't like a fairy tale of a commoner marrying a prince?  (Actually she was not too shabby a commoner; her father was a brick tycoon in America)  It was said that the Prince chose to marry a famous celebrity to boost interest in Monaco, whose fortunes were dwindling at that time.  But regardless, she was and still is greatly admired by her subjects.  Unfortunately, she died in a tragic car accident in 1982, on one of the hairpin roads just outside Monaco.  

I recommend watching the 1955 film To Catch a Thief with Grace Kelly and Cary Grant.  Nice shots of Nice and outlying areas, the classic beauty of Grace Kelly, and rather scintillating dialogue.  

Photo of the wedding of Grace Kelly to Prince Rainer in 1956

The fairy tale continues today with the marriage of Charlene Whitstock, former Olympic swimmer, to the reigning Prince Albert.  Their photos are displayed prominently in every shop in the city state.  Reminded me of Thailand's reverence for King Bhumipol.

Monaco is also known for its gambling cachet.  The Casino de Monte Carlo of the James Bond fame is still going strong, but sadly we are not able to bring you photos of its beautiful Art Deco halls, because of our beautiful young kids. %3^&!#........ 

Rows and rows of luxurious cars parked outside the casino.  And just about everywhere else in this place.

A Mercedes SLS AMG was mobbed by everyone present.  Even the blase YL wanted a photo, can you imagine?

Another pretty car (TWO Bugatti Veyrons, to be exact) outside the Hermitage Hotel, one of the most expensive places to stay in Monaco.  There were endless groups of people taking photos of them.  No one bothered or noticed the string of Ferraris & Porsches  parked nearby.  We saw the driver and passenger while they were getting out of the car, and we think they are probably the Russian mafia.  We are not kidding.

We parked our car up in a hill on one end of the city, and walked with 2 kids in the hot sun all over the island and finally ended up at the casino.  Needless to say, we were haggard, sweaty, brown and smelly after that trek.  After salivating over these cars, walking past women in jewels that costs as much as a house, and reassessing where we had gone wrong in life, we had to get back to get our car.  I said, "OK, let's take a taxi back".  YL replied sheepishly, "Actually I was thinking of taking the bus".   

I love my husband, I love my life, I love my husband, I love my life...

Why did he become a doctor and not a mafia leader?

The rings were as thick as my YL's wrists.

Jacuzzi and a wine bar are standard features on the yachts there 

Of course with all that money oozing out of every pore in the city, security is a prime issue.  This is why Monaco is probably the world's safest city, with the highest number of police/ security personnel per capita.  CCTVs spy over every corner, police booths and presence can be felt immediately.  While on the tourist train taking us around the city, we saw a tourist faint from the heat.  Within 3 minutes, firemen were attending to her (Monaco is still very French; emergencies are handled first by the firemen, and then the ambulance and other emergency services).   

Yet another police booth we passed on our 10-minute walk

Monaco is not all about crass, shallow wealth.  It has one of the world's best oceanographic museums and research on deep sea exploration.  Jacques Cousteau was the director of the museum when he was alive.  This was one of his submarines used during his research.  (I haven't heard of him either, but YL assured me - between gasps of disbelief - that he is very famous and important)

In order to fit in with the Monegasque crowd (and to anticipate YL's mid-life crisis), we got ourselves a swanky convertible for the trip and for the drive on the Moyenne Corniche and Grande Corniche.  These coastal roads skim the edge of the Mediterranean sea along the mountains, giving you an unprecedented view of the azure sea, the luxurious seaside mansions, and the wealth that eludes you.  It was also made famous in the film To Catch a Thief. 

The kids were initially elated about the whole retractable roof thing, but Soph very quickly decided that she wouldn't like to be IN the car when the car is going at 130 km/h with the roof down.  Ju was enjoying himself until he heard his sister's complaints, and, to be cool, he decided he didn't like it as well.  :)   

Disclaimer: No young children were harmed in the shooting of this footage.

Provence & Cote d'Azur - The beaches

And now, for a change in scenery, we'll take you to the Riviera.... 

Or the Azure Coast (Cote d'Azur) as the French call it.  Such an apt name, the Mediterranean sea was. just. gloriously. blue.

Azure.  

Calanque de Sormiou

Having said that, the most famous beaches in the Riviera - St Tropez, Cannes, Nice, Monaco - are actually poor excuses for a beach, if you ask me.  Compared to the fine, soft, white sandy heavenly beaches back home, these are downright hell.  They are rocky, pebbly and pokey.  Why would anyone want to sit there for hours?  Every move or turn is torturous.  We just do not understand.  

So this is where my planning, erhem, comes into the picture.  We stayed in Cannes, where they import tonnes of that fine sand to cover their beaches, instead of Nice, where they may have a bigger infrastructure for tourists.  I insisted we make a detour to the calanques near Marseilles on our way from Provence to the coast to enjoy some natural soft sand.  

The calanques are tall white cliffs sporting slivers of white sandy beaches hemming the clear cool jewel-toned waters.  Most are only accessible by boats.  We went to the Calanque de Sormiou, one of few that are accessible by car, though it is restricted to those who have reservations at the handful of cafes and restaurants by the beach.    

Upon entering the long windy stretch of road leading down to the beach, we gasped in awe at the majestic view spread out in front and below us.  The sea was an endless stretch of blue, framed by the white rocky cliffs.  Several yachts and boats were bobbing close to  the shore.    

Picture-perfect view from our restaurant.  Lovers whispering in the corner table, the ubiquitous Panama hat at every table on man or woman alike, classy ladies in their summer frocks and over-sized sunglasses.  Yup, it was as stereotyped as it can get, but oh how beautiful anyways.   

That's what I had for lunch.  It was good, not fantastic, but then it's all about the view here.  They told us that they can't serve us tap water (carafe d'eau) because they don't have water pipes coming all the way from Marseilles.  Something like that.  We weren't really listening.  

The beach

The kids' first beach experience.

The Cannes beach scene is packed to the gills everyday, especially on la Croissette, THE place to be.  Several parts are privately owned by various luxury hotels fronting the beach.  

A typical afternoon at the Cannes beach.   

 To beat the crowds and heat, we headed to the beach at 10am on a gray morning.  This strip of the beach is the same one as above.  See the difference?  

We noticed that French women have no qualms at all about showing off their fat, wrinkles and sagging skin to the world.  It was a bikini or nothing here.  And we DID see several "nothing", usually grannies or aunties who seem to be saying to the world, I've done everything and I've seen everything, so what else is there to hide?  In my fully-covered one-piece suit, I look like I was on my way to do my groceries but accidentally ended up on a beach instead.   

You can make out some of the bikini aunties in the background. 

Speaking of beaches, we managed to get a reservation at one of the beachfront restaurants in Cannes on one of the nights of the annual international fireworks competition.  Coincidentally, it was the French's turn on that night.  While it was a great experience dining on the sand, on a table lit by soft candles, facing the dark open seas and skies, and surrounded by the beautiful Belle Epoque buildings behind us, in hindsight, it would have been better (and cheaper) to have brought our own picnic and have it one of the public areas of the beach, as many did.  

Lawn chairs set out for guests of the hotel that own this strip of the beach

The dining tables were set just behind the lawn chairs.  Behind us, you can see people gathered along the road to watch the competition.  

I thought it was rather good; in fact the best fireworks display I've seen.  Of course it was also the first time I actually had front-row seats and watched an entire fireworks presentation with music choreography and a theme.  This one was something to do with the natural elements (fire, snow, water, etc) and changing seasons.  No idea who won, though.  Must check that out.

Ju was clinging onto YL the entire 30 minutes.  

We asked him afterwards if he liked the fireworks, and after thinking for a while, he replied, "I don't like the fire.  I liked the works, though"

Provence & Cote d'Azur - The Roman Connection

Provence has a surprisingly rich heritage of Roman architecture.  The Romans colonised the area in the end of the 2nd BC and continued to leave their marks there for several centuries.  Nimes and Arles, two of the towns we visited, were the biggest cities in the Empire outside of Italy.  We checked off three Roman amphitheaters and an ancient aqueduct while we were in Provence.

In Orange, the 2000-year old Theatre Antique d'Orange, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was one of the largest theaters of Imperial Rome, holding up to 7,000 spectators.  Today, it is one of the best preserved Roman theaters in Europe, and - get this - still puts on performances in the summer.  We were lucky to catch the opera Turandot by Puccini on one of the cool summer nights.

We visited the theater in the day of the performance, while preparations were under way for the opera at night.  Here you can see the orchestra pit, and some props (the metal sphere on stage and the gong on the wall)

The theater was built against a hill.  Here you can see the nose-bleed section just below the trees, a.k.a. our seats.

The facade of the theater

The entire town seemed to be dedicated to the performance.  Restaurants offered fixed menus, designed to feed large groups of opera-goers in time before the performance at 9:30pm.  Makeshift stalls cropped up everywhere around the theater selling cushions, portable seats, foldaway chairs, binoculars, etc. 

This old lady was selling cushions covered with Provencal fabrics for EUR 10.  Being the misers we are, we decided our butts can withstand concrete for 3 straight hours. 

Waiting for the performance to start.  This is around 9:20pm.

If you can work out the seating arrangement in the picture, you will understand that the walking space is basically the "seat" of the people one row below.  There really isn't much room to move your feet without kicking the person sitting below you.  Before the performance begun, when everyone were looking for their seats, entire rows of people had to get up and stand while someone passes to reach their seat on the other side of the row.

There were thousands of spectators that night, and despite that, during the performance, it was so quiet you can hear a pin drop.

Now, add these two elements together, plus the fact that the performance went on from 9:30pm to midnight, you will admire how remarkably well-behaved our two young children were.  I had briefed Sophie on the story before the show, so she could at least guess at what was happening on stage.  Other times, I would whisper very softly and slowly to her about the progress of the plot.  She was very interested, and kept looking out for the princess and asking me whether the she had asked the first riddle yet.  

Now, Ju, as you know, is a TWO year old, and a BOY at that.  He cannot be expected to sit still for something that does not involve loud red cars who answers to the name McQueen.  Well, he did.  He cooperated and whispered his questions to YL, he did not cry to go to the bathroom once, and he did not attempt to see if he can jump from his concrete seat.  YL and I held our breath when he started to fidget around 11pm, when he was really desperate for sleep.  We rocked him slowly and that was it.  No fuss.  Regardless, YL said that the guy sitting next to him was not impressed and shussed them once.  Shame on him!

(p/s. it's debatable whether we should have brought a two year old to a late night opera, but give us a break, OK??)

Turandot is a story about a Chinese princess who, in order to avoid marriage, promise to marry only the man who can answer three riddles correctly.  The opera was written at a time when chinoiserie was the rage in Europe.

On another day, we visited the amphitheater in Arles.  It is one of the largest Roman buildings in Gaul (the old name for France).  This particular amphitheater has a strong heritage of Spanish bullfights.  We caught a "bull race" where young men dressed in white from top to toe would tease and taunt the bull, and then with some very nifty quick legwork, jump over the fence once the bull starts at them.  The point is to see how close they could get to the bull without being hurt.      

The third amphitheater was in Nimes, built in the 1st century for gladiatorial fights.  We had a rather enjoyable audio guide tour of the place, where the narrator introduced different types of gladiators, their lives, and the atmosphere of the shows in the Roman days.  

By the way, here's a bit of trivia for you: Nimes' other claim to fame came in the form of a man in California in the 1800's, when he was looking for a hard, tough-wearing fabric to make pants for miners, and found the right type, imported from Nimes.  His name was Levi Strauss, and today this fabric is simply known as denim (= de Nimes = from Nimes).

Besides these amphitheaters, the Romans also left a vast network of very practical structures in Provence.  The Pont du Gard (another UNESCO WHS) is apparently the largest aqueduct bridge in the world.  It is 50 metres high, 350 metres long, with arches that are 25m wide and 19m high.  It transported 9 million gallons of water per day to Nimes when it was one of the largest cities in Europe.  Most of the aqueduct is on or below ground, but at Pont du Gard it spans a canyon on a massive bridge.  It was indeed a sight to behold.  

We had an enjoyable lunch by the bridge, where we ate under the parasols while listening to the shrieks and chatter of those frolicking by the river below the canyon.

Provence & Cote d'Azur - The villages

When one speaks of Provence, in their mind, one sees small bucolic villages, fresh food markets, wicker baskets, a riot of colourful blooms tumbling out of window-sills and creeping up old stone farmhouses.  After our visit, part of me wants to attest that those rustic images really exists.  The other part is not sure what I saw in those heat-induced bouts of hallucination when I was not playing hide-and-seek with the dogged sun.

There was simply no refuge.  The sun was out at full force from 8am to 8pm.  Provence has several small ranges of mountains/hills, but it also has vast plains of flat fields.  In the afternoons, while driving from one small village to another, we were roasting in our car, browning perfectly.  And while walking around the villages, we were basting in our sweat, wonderfully seasoned by dinnertime.

Sorry, I digressed.

Back to the villages.  We visited too many to care, but here are some worth mentioning.

Amongst many other things, Provence is famous for its perched villages.  Houses and dwellings are built at the edge of rocky cliffs and mountains.  It makes for a very dramatic entrance as you approach them from the plains and valleys, gazing up their precarious locations, seemingly lording over the area.  Castles or lookout towers were built at the highest points of these villages in the past for defence purposes.   

View from the top of the 12th century castle in Le Barroux.  

Le Barroux is one of these villages with a castle at its peak.  The village was almost deserted in the early afternoon, and we wandered aimlessly and freely through its maze of shaded narrow cobbled streets lanes.  This is a pleasant change from some of the overcrowded, tourist-infected villages that we visited.  Aside from the lone shopkeeper we saw while leaving the village, the only other people we came across were another French tourist family, with whom we exchanged sly smiles as if we were sharing a secret.  

The panorama from the top was ... what's the best word?  Inspiring.  Not breath-taking, not sensational, not world-changing, but simply inspiring.  That is why many artists, painters, craftsmen choose to live in Provence: for the inspiration.  That's good enough for me.

    

And if inspiration runs low, you can take a break in your rustic yard, and start again tomorrow.  

The kids were having the time of their lives, trying to outrun each other, and generally generating the kind of din that makes local Provencal folks hate the tourists who overrun their calm villages every summer :)

Now I must tell you about some of these tourist-infested villages.  Obviously there are good reasons why tourists flock there.  They are pretty, they are charming, and they are probably listed on the les plus beaux villages de France roll (the most beautiful villages in France).  These are some 150 villages deemed to be preserving the essence of traditional village life, and the list is maintained to ensure French villages do not turn into "soulless museums or theme parks".  

(By the way, this passion for heritage and tradition and concerted effort to preserve them is the answer to YL's persistent question, "Why can't small towns in Malaysia like Sungai Siput or Tapah be a tourist attraction like here"?)  

Gordes is one such pretty face.  It has all the typical ingredients for a typical Provencal village - tight narrow lanes, cobblestones, a small village square with a fountain, tiny locally-owned shops and producers, etc.  What fascinated YL is the glow that is reflected from the beige stone houses and buildings.

...this glow...

Getting some breakfast at a boulangerie (bakery) in Gordes

This boy really loves his croissant.  Look at the genuine pleasure in his face. 

Note on a local fruit shop: "Our job: Every day and all year-round, we select seasonal products each morning from local producers."  See what I mean about fresh food? 

The kids choosing their cherries for our snack

Forget it YL, you will never get a "normal" smile out of them. 

Gordes at night, overlooking the valley underneath.

There was also Venasque, which seems to be an magnet for potters, but unfortunately all the shops were closed for their afternoon siesta when we were there for lunch.  There was a weekly crafts market that was supposed to start at 3pm, but when we left at 3:20pm, the vendors were more energetic about greeting each other and exchanging kisses and catching up on the latest gossips than setting up their wares.  So we never got to see how good they are. 

Mougins is supposed to be a gastronomic mecca with the most number of Michelin-starred restaurants per Porsche (I'm kidding, but you know what I mean).  We had lunch there at a Michelin-wannabe, and conclusively decided that we're not Michelin people.  We don't want two mussels dipped in seawater and aired in a jasmine garden to be our appetizer.  We don't want a stick of caramelised spring onion glazed with hibiscus powder served as our main course.  (I am only half-making this up.)  And we don't want to pay a whole week's worth of groceries for them.   

We also don't have the excess funds to buy anything from their art galleries......So why did we come to Mougins again?

A sketch on a wall

Apparently many rich Parisians have their summer/weekend homes here

And here's a Provencal village with a little bit of difference: Roussillon.  Also one of the les plus beaux villages de France, its claim to fame is colour.  Ochre, to be specific.  The village is situated next to an old ochre quarry, and many of its buildings are red, bright yellow or orange in colour.  Sorry, there are no good pictures of the town or of the colour "conservatory" in the old ochre factory to post.  

The old quarry.  It's that bright, and it's not the sun...

  

The walk round the quarry and surrounding woods takes 30-50 minutes.  

 

Needless to say, we were orange and yellow all over by the end of our walk.  Our sandals are still orange today.

Lest you be mislead that Provence is all beauty and perfection, I must clarify that it has its fair share of the ugly and the forgettable.   

YL often commented that the roads remind him of those drives to the small towns in Malaysia.  You can't tell from this picture whether we are in Malaysia or France, can you?

There are ghost towns in Provence, too...