Monte Carlo: The Grand Prix and the French Riviera
If there was ever an out-of-this-world sight to wake up to on a Mediterranean cruise, it has to be the coastline of Monte Carlo, Monaco, on the week of the Formula One Grand Prix. Yachts flock to the area, and in a bit of typical humor, our cruise director tried to make us feel better about not being on one of those pieces of money-indulgent luxury, by telling us that we were on the biggest yacht at anchor. Thus reassured of our status, we tendered in to see what all the fuss was about. What a mad house.
The streets would be closed the next day and, in preparation for the race, barriers were going up along with the royal viewing box and TV cameras. The fancy cars were being trucked in on the narrow roads and our bus driver and a driver of one of those trucks got in a bit of a shouting match on a curve about who was going to back down (or up) first. We lost that match, backed down the hill, and then watched the brightly painted truck go by us on the wrong side and be followed by a dozen motorcycles doing the same.
Finally we were able to wind our way up the steep roads to a better viewing point, take in a few photo opportunities, and cross the boundary stone into France. We stopped at the village of Eze for a welcome walk around and potty break. Tour buses were lined up so I have a good idea about the source of Eze’s income beyond the price of the half Euro facilities.
Coming back toward the ship, we did a quick overview of Nice. Again, some place I can see going back to for longer than an hour. Arriving back in Monte Carlo, the bus drove into a tunnel and found a roundabout! Yes, that’s right, that daring little traffic circle common in Europe where you go into the traffic loop and hope to catch the road you wanted on your way out. I found it akin to getting your rhythm on the elementary school playground as you waited to run into the jump rope. (I wonder if I could still do that.) An advantage of a roundabout is that if you miss your “exit” the first time, you can just keep circling--and have the right of way! However, this one was in a tunnel with five roads coming at it, and I was glad all I had to do was sit back and watch.
Provence: Chateauneuf du Pape and a transportation strike
Our last day of the cruise was to be spent docked in Marseilles, but a transportation strike put an end to that. Instead, we put in at Toulon, France’s naval center. About half of the excursions were cancelled and some redirected. We were on our last Biale special tour, this time to the noted Chateauneuf du Pape wine region, so we were unaffected, except for having two extra hours on the bus, one each way, to get where we were going.
Chateauneuf du Pape wine can be red or white and takes its name from the time of Pope Clement V, who in 1308, relocated the papacy to Avignon, France. The following 70 years helped to cement the viticulture of the area, as Clement and the subsequent popes were fond of the Burgundy wines. Both geographic area and varietals, over a dozen are allowed in the designation, are dictated for Chateauneuf du Pape.
We were fortunate to visit two wineries, Domaine de la Janasse, where we tasted a wine from 1979, and Domaine de la Solitude, where we were able to see the vines up close. Seeming to grow out of the rocks, the vines are stocky and not trellised. A very different vision for those of us used to Napa.
Barcelona: Putting on the Ritz
We disembarked at 8 a.m. the next day. Our luggage had been picked up and tagged and we found it circling a conveyor belt in the cruise terminal. A taxi took us to the Hotel Palace. I wasn’t too sure of either the destination nor our driver’s ability to know what we said, but I showed him the address on a piece of paper. He put it into his dashboard GPS and off we went. The architecture of Barcelona is jaw-dropping and varied. We were going too fast for me to whip out the camera and do justice to what I wanted to focus on.
Arriving at the Palace, we found it to have once been The Ritz. Complete with heavy tasseled room keys, we checked in and out with the Concierge by picking up/dropping off our key. All very Old World. Because our room wasn’t ready before 9 in the morning (nor did we expect it to be), we took a city bus tour with a multi-lingual guide who brooked no nonsense from her adult charges. She had us believing from the first word that if we weren’t back where she said to be when she said to be there, we’d be left! We stuck close.
We visited the Gothic Cathedral, the Spanish Village which never really was a village, just a showcase of Spain’s varied architecture, and then a lookout point for a panoramic view of the city. It was hazy or polluted, however you want to put it. However, down at the docks was the Marina, and I found myself being very nostalgic. “Our” ship was being readied for her next passengers. Someone else was going to have our suite and be taken care of by our keeper. I snapped a photo through the haze and waved.
Links: Domaine Janasse Chateauneuf du Pape: http://www.lajanasse.com
Domaine Solitude Chateauneuf du Pape: http://www.domaine-solitude.com
Barcelona: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barcelona