Over the Labor Day weekend, which was a blessed four day weekend, we drove out to Cannes, France for a French Riveria vacation. As school had not started yet, Ashley drove out early on Thursday with the kids and Megan, Yorba, and Verna Trifilo. Greg Trifilo, Ben Crandall (Charlotte & Luke were in the US), Ashley Shirah, and I drove out later that night after work. Our drive was almost certainly more tolerable without 3 kids and 2 dogs, but Ash & Meg survived and even managed to use gas coupons before crossing the border unlike our posse of four book-brilliant but street-dumb adults.
The house where we stayed was in a small town just northwest of Cannes called Pegomas. The owners live next door and just recently started renting it out on Airbnb. It was a fantastic place with plenty of indoor space for all of us, outdoor space for the dogs and kids, and even a swimming pool.
And the kids are of course mind-bogglingly cute. Juliet is holding "Verna," her birthday gift that she named after Greg & Megan's new golden retriever puppy.
The old town had a main street for pedestrians only that made a loop around and was lined with shops and houses. You could walk the whole thing in under 5 minutes if you needed to. We, of course, were there for about 2 hours.
The best part of that night happened right here. This is the street that runs in front of the old Monte Carlo casino. We drove over there after leaving the old town and were trying to find parking. The road split, with signs pointing left for parking but right for "Le Casino." There were even gendarmes standing there directing people. We weren't sure which way to go in the Subie (sporting bird excrement and all), but the gendarmes sort of waved us to the right as if we were supposed to go that way. Next thing we know we are in a line of Bentleys and Mercedes and other luxury vehicles driving on this very road. Megan almost came unglued. "Greg! We went the wrong way!" Some yellow Lotus was unloading in front of us and all the tourists you can see there on the opposite side of the road were taking pictures. We could not stop laughing. It was hilarious beyond explanation. Don't mind our Subaru Outback! Just looking for parking. Thankfully the Thule had been removed. I think Megan would have died. If only we had been in the minivan.
The casino was a bit of a disappointment. The anterooms have gambling for the middle class tourists, while the back rooms are for the high rollers. Jackets required in back after 8 pm, and 10 euro to enter. We stayed in the front rooms until everyone (except me - my native Las Vegas aversion to casinos kicked in) had lost at least $25 playing roulette or buying ridiculously priced beverages. On the way out we saw an older, shorter European gentleman escorting a 6-foot tall African model in a designer light blue evening gown into the casino. There ensued a lively discussion of whether she was digging for gold or employed in that oldest of professions. Outside the casino Greg and I had stopped for one last look back when this eye-magnet blonde with stilts for legs walked past us. Naturally both of our gazes were temporarily transfixed. When we turned around, Megan was glaring at us and wagging her finger.
The next day the whole gang headed down to Cannes to catch the ferry to the Island of Sainte Marguerite. There is an old fort and relatively uncrowded beaches there. The Man in the Iron Mask was there for 11 years of his imprisonment. Plus, you can take in the view of Cannes and the surrounding beach towns from almost everywhere on the island.
Georgie just leaves me speechless. Look at Ashley gripping the smallest margin of fabric to keep this picture suitable for public sharing. It's a swimsuit underneath, but still.
Instead we frolicked in the water and kept repeating over and over again how unbelievable the whole situation was. We were in the French Riveria for a four day weekend. We weren't even taking leave!
Ashley was being kind of a downer before we went, saying that she had been there before and it wasn't that great and we should be doing something else with our precious four day weekend. I could not disagree more. That weekend was magical and not to be forgotten. It was a preview of the huge party we are going to have over Thanksgiving in a Tuscan villa with the same crew plus Charlotte and Luke Crandall and Steve, Kate, and Brennan Edstrom. I feel so fortunate to live here and have these rock star friends and my perfect family to share it with. Merci et au revoir, France.
The house where we stayed was in a small town just northwest of Cannes called Pegomas. The owners live next door and just recently started renting it out on Airbnb. It was a fantastic place with plenty of indoor space for all of us, outdoor space for the dogs and kids, and even a swimming pool.
Isaac and Yorba enjoying a dip.
On Friday we headed inland to Grasse and Tourettes sur Loup. Grasse is famous for perfumes and antiques, but it was a huge bust for us as we couldn't find parking to accommodate an Odyssey and an Outback with a Thule on top. Instead we stopped briefly at Bar sur Loup, a lovely small town, and then had lunch just outside of Tourette sur Loup. We were very impressed with the view of the town as we drove in and there happened to be a small cafe right along the road.
C'est magnifique. The dining experience was so stereotypically French that we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. As we started to take our seats outside the owner/operator woman pointed to her watch to indicate how late it was (about 2:00 pm) and convey to us very plainly her intention to close the cafe for riposo or mediodia or whatever the sam hill the French call the lazy southern European midday break. Undeterred, we sat ourselves down, conveying to her our very American intention of being served when we darn well want to. She then refused to speak any English to us. Although the town is small, it is major tourist attraction. Tourism is the only thing keeping that town alive. She would be out of business if she couldn't communicate in the universal language. But Megan was forced to dust off her high school French and try to order for us. We ordered three things which we intended to share amongst the nine of us. When she realized that we weren't ordering individual meals, she suddenly discovered her ability to speak the King's English and said to us, very clearly, that "In France, we do not eat like this." The food was great, of course, and we had a great time reliving that dining experience for the rest of the weekend.
Doing our best impression of "too cool for school" French people. I always end up looking constipated and/or angry when I try to do cool. Ashley looks great (come sempre).
The old town had a main street for pedestrians only that made a loop around and was lined with shops and houses. You could walk the whole thing in under 5 minutes if you needed to. We, of course, were there for about 2 hours.
Ashley struttin' her stuff. Nice diaper bag, hot lips.
Even I am forced to admit how "cute" the town was. Very pristine and idyllic. Artificially so for the benefit of tourists and separating them from their euro, but still very charming.
Juliet made friends with one of the local cats.
All of the kids found a friend in Uncle Ben. If Ben was miserable without Charlotte and Luke you would have never known it. Except when he got a little mopey while texting in the evenings. Incidentally, the name of Ethan Hawke's character in the 1980s cult classic movie "Explorers" is...Ben Crandall. We just watched that movie recently with the kids and they got a kick out of that.
An idyllic staircase by the gelato shop.
Their specialty flavor was Violet, which no joke is flavored with violet flowers. We have seen rose and lavender flavors here as well. Juliet loved it.
By this time our kids were ready to call it a day, so the Merbacks headed back to the house while the unfettered adults proceeded on to another charming small town. On the way back the kids found a second wind, however, and we took a short hike along a gorgeous river.
This was an old home dug out of the hillside along the river path.
The next morning we split up and the ladies went to Cannes (minus Juliet) while the boys stayed home and lounged by the pool. Ashley found a fish spa and could not allow the opportunity to pass them by.
Georgie jumped right in and let those fish feast on her dead skin cells.
As did Ashley Shirah and Megan.
That night we split up again and Ashley Merback stayed behind with the kids and dogs. They walked into the center of Pegomas for dinner and pastries.
Georgie and Yorba out for a stroll.
This is a local baked good called "socca" that is made with garbanzo (chick pea) flour.
Delicious French pastries.
Monaco was fantastic. We walked through the old town, admiring the view and the exotic gardens. We had a superb meal after being very wishy-washy about choosing a place. I felt Ben's pain being without Ashley there.
Greg taking in the view of the Monte Carlo harbor. Pinch me.
A Bugatti we saw in a showroom window. A Bugatti, you say? An old Italian brand (the original is the small blue car out of frame on the right) that was resurrected in the 1990s and is the fastest street legal car on the planet. Leaves Lamborghini in the dust. Owned by Volkswagen now, as is Lamborghini. Freakin' rich Germans. This car took my breath away, and I'm not even a sports car guy. Retail? Starts at 2.5 M. Pinch me harder.
The casino was a bit of a disappointment. The anterooms have gambling for the middle class tourists, while the back rooms are for the high rollers. Jackets required in back after 8 pm, and 10 euro to enter. We stayed in the front rooms until everyone (except me - my native Las Vegas aversion to casinos kicked in) had lost at least $25 playing roulette or buying ridiculously priced beverages. On the way out we saw an older, shorter European gentleman escorting a 6-foot tall African model in a designer light blue evening gown into the casino. There ensued a lively discussion of whether she was digging for gold or employed in that oldest of professions. Outside the casino Greg and I had stopped for one last look back when this eye-magnet blonde with stilts for legs walked past us. Naturally both of our gazes were temporarily transfixed. When we turned around, Megan was glaring at us and wagging her finger.
The next day the whole gang headed down to Cannes to catch the ferry to the Island of Sainte Marguerite. There is an old fort and relatively uncrowded beaches there. The Man in the Iron Mask was there for 11 years of his imprisonment. Plus, you can take in the view of Cannes and the surrounding beach towns from almost everywhere on the island.
The view from the old fort.
This is the cell in the fort where the Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned. Hollywood aside, historians laugh at the idea that he was King Louis' twin brother. An irishman was imprisoned here in the 1800s and wrote many letters that he hid in a hole in the wall facing the window. There is a mural painted on the wall that facilitated his keeping the hole hidden. ("In France, we have artwork in our prison cells.") The letters were found just a few years ago and are displayed right outside the room.
How did you spend your Labor Day?
See what I mean? Unreal.
Juliet kills me.
Lunch on the island with Greg and Ben in the foreground and Cannes in the background.
Either the kids were really tired at this point or else they were sulking because I had just reprimanded them for doing something totally normal for American kids but unheard of at a European restaurant, even one on an island beach town.
We finished up the day playing on the beach. The water was warm and calm and the view was amazing. The kids found an obscene number of dead jelly fish that were perfectly safe to pick up. Yorba made himself right at home and starting eating the food out of some French guy's bag. Greg and Megan were all over him in a flash, but not before the French dude had picked up a rock that he apparently intended to throw at Yorba. I could see Megan's temperature rising. That dude was lucky he put the rock down. Actually, we were lucky he put it down. Imagine if two physicians and a pharmacist would have been arrested in Cannes over Labor Day for beating a silly Frenchman to a pulp. The temptation would have been strong. You don't mess with the Trifilo's dogs.
Ashley was being kind of a downer before we went, saying that she had been there before and it wasn't that great and we should be doing something else with our precious four day weekend. I could not disagree more. That weekend was magical and not to be forgotten. It was a preview of the huge party we are going to have over Thanksgiving in a Tuscan villa with the same crew plus Charlotte and Luke Crandall and Steve, Kate, and Brennan Edstrom. I feel so fortunate to live here and have these rock star friends and my perfect family to share it with. Merci et au revoir, France.
