The Casino or Bust!
I can now honestly say that I have seen Prince Albert of Monaco. And I have seen him and seen him and seen him. Not in the flesh, mind you, but in the oil. Albert’s portrait is everywhere in Monaco. At the Port Authority, at the hotels, at the corner market, and at the souvenir stands. They obviously love their royal family; or at least they love their Prince. I saw no portraits of Caroline or of Stephanie – just Al. I felt like I was back in England, except I didn’t find any portrait plates or tea cups with Al’s portrait. I am sure that they must have them; and so, the search begins
Monaco is beautiful. In fact, it is more than beautiful. I would say that it is probably the finest place that money can buy. It gleams in the sun like a priceless jewel. When I first looked out the window at the city this morning, the song playing on the intercom was WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR. I am sure that I was the only one who noticed it. And if that wasn’t enough irony; the next song that played was STRANGER IN PARADISE. I guess only actors notice theme music playing in their lives, but I always notice it. And speaking of theme music, the one song I have heard played on this ship (more than any other) is the love theme from TITANIC. And if you weren’t already sick of the song, the movie is playing all day, today, on the in-cabin TV network
After breakfast, I disembarked from the ship and headed for the nearest taxi stand. Unfortunately, the Monaco Marathon or the Monte Carlo Mile was being run; not only through the streets of the city, but all over the damn pier. No matter where I walked I was surrounded by runners yelling at each other in French. Damn! I bought Italian lessons but forgot all about the French and the Spanish-speaking stops. Anyway, I kept trying to get out of the way of the runners, but I kept ending up in another path of runners. One man was running the entire race on stilts that had enough spring in them that he was literally bouncing down the pier.
After clearing the race track I found myself in an area of the waterfront where they were setting up rides for some type of carnival. After fighting my way through the truck loads of bumper cars and mini-roller coasters, I managed to reach the street. Unfortunately this street is one of the ones used in the Grand Prix of Monaco. Everyone was apparently in training for the race, because the slowest moving vehicles were probably going sixty. No taxis. No taxi stands. So I kept walking………..
I guess I had never realized before that Monte Carlo, like so many of the port cities we have visited; is built on the side of the hill. There is the flat area where the yachts are moored, and then everything else goes straight up the side.
So, I got across the main street and walked up a small side street loaded with Gucci and Prada and K-Mart, and all those other exclusive shops. The next main street I found was a little slower traffic-wise; but unfortunately it was one way going the other direction from where I wanted to go. So I walked and I walked, and the next thing I knew I was on the boulevard that runs up the side of the mountain. And again the traffic was moving so quickly, that even if I had seen a taxi, I could never have gotten it to stop for me. And what lovely traffic it was, too. Bentley’s, BMW’s, Mercedes’, white stretch limos, and more Ferrari’s than I have seen in my entire life. So, I kept walking and walking up hill. I stopped to rest outside the Princess Grace Theater which is built into the side of the mountain. Finally I reached the summit, or at least the Promised Land. The Casino de Monte Carlo and the Monte Carlo Opera House, which are both in the same building, The grounds are beautifully landscaped, but the opera house was closed, and it was too early in the day for the big casino; not to mention the fact that I was not wearing a suit and tie.
But I kept walking, past the Hermitage Hotel and the Hotel de Paris until I reached the Café de Paris. Apparently the direct translation of Café de Paris is THE PLACE WHERE UNDERDRESSED POOR PEOPLE CAN GAMBLE AWAY THEIR MONEY. The man at the door told me in French that I couldn’t take my camera into the casino, and he referred me down the hall to where a lady could check it for me. I say, “could check it for me” because she was deeply involved in some personal phone conversation and wanted no part of me. After standing and waiting and waiting the doorman, who must know the lady at the coat check, signaled for me to come back to the entrance, and he let me go in still carrying my camera.
I find it very interesting that in a country where French is the main language, all of the slot machines in the casino are written in plain old English, and they talk to you in English, as well. I am sure that if I went back to the main casino, tonight, all of the machines would be written in French, but in Café de Paris, the only thing not in English, is the exclusive use of Euros, instead of dollars. After quickly donating 30 Euros to the cause, I decided to depart the place while I still had cab fare. As I exited past the same French doorman, I said in my best French, “Merci.” To which he then replied in his best Brooklyn accent, “Your welcome, sir, have a good one.” Ahhh Europe!
Either later today, or sometime tomorrow, I still want to visit Princess Grace’s tomb, and maybe the palace. It will probably end up being tomorrow, even though it is Sunday, because I have been invited to dine with the Assistant Cruise Director this evening at 6:30. Some people get to sit at the Captain’s Table; I get the Assistant Cruise Director.
