As I drift from one season to the next there are a few songs that are seeming to consistently backtrack all activities and adventures that are ago. Play, Feel, Smile.
There is a place, that is small and quaint, tucked in
between majestic Monaco and nice Nice. A place called Boly-eur-Somer , no I did
not just mumble/type a word, it’s a real place. No one can ever really say the
name properly, nor comprehend spelling it ( yes I had to google the legit
spelling to make sure ).
Before we dive into the story here is a little song to serenade you in the background. This summer classic has, with it's comfortable chords, on many occasions grooved its way through my ears. Easy simple happiness inducing listening at it's best.
This little place is mainly knows for it’s
non-friendly dockwalker shipyard and beautiful beach. We did a sneaky dock
walk there once or twice and some friends got a little lucky with some temp work.
However my best memory of this little hard to pronounce haven comes from a day
spent with a good friend playing about on Jet-Ski’s.
Now in order to properly
set the scene, one must track back to the night before said day of fun. It was
a quiet night in Antibes ( ok not really, but kind of ), and yet another day of
aimless dockwalking had passed on by. Throats were a little parched and so the
ever-responsible idea of getting just one beer from the shop down the road
became an imminent reality. As it goes, other housemates returned home, equally
thirsty and so on and so forth. It was not until the two brothers Rens came
trampling through wet from the fresh rain drops with a certain Cape Town
classic china, Cian.
Cian was to stay the night and we were to socialize, no
complaints. Soon enough bottles of Rose were being opened at break-neck speeds,
music was blaring out of the small scratchy portable computer speakers and
conversations were drifting between the future, present and hilarious past. As
it goes, Cian casually mentions that he needs a student for his jet –Ski
instructors exam the following morning, in Boly-sur-mer. I immediately jumped
on said band –wagon as I had never driven the infamour water-bike before and
thought it would be a great change of pace to the rather omninous week of more
dockwalking ahead. Glasses were cheered, wine mixed itself with beer and soon
we found ourselves at Absinthe bar , drinkers club and a few other watering
holes. I being a responsible future-student called it a night at a relatively
respectable hour considering… and Cian said he would be home a little after.
The next morning awakened by the sounds of phones ringing, loud rustling, slow
hustling and my name being shouted. We dashed through the streets of Antibes,
bought some luke-warm water and made it in time to catch a train. We boarded a
mystical carriage, one that we had both never seen before, or been on since.
The couches were a dirty emerald and there were low-lit mustard lamps,
reminiscent of a shifty cigar lounge. It took a good couple of minutes for us
to both regain our breath, before any form of conversation regarding the
previous nights happenings could begin, by which stage we were already in Nice.
We hopped off to swap trains and shared one of the best Lipton peach Ice Teas ever
produced in Europe.
Getting to Boly-yer-somer we knew we were a little late,
but the big smiles on both of our faces got us through that always-awkward late
arrival moment. The lesson began and once we were through all the theory and
Cian’s very, very interesting geographic descriptions of the surroundings we
were on the water with all of the previous night being cured. The whole
experience was amazing and due to my previous lack of experience on a jet-ski I
made for quite the good dumb student. After all the various tests and box ticks
had been completed we were able to mess about have ourselves some good ol’
fashioned racing competiton. At the end of the whole session, high on adrenalin
and salt water we wandered off and got one of the best burgers I have had in
France and sipped on some more life-changing Lipton Ice Tea.
All in all it was one hell of an adventure
seeming to go at a constant fast pace from Antibes antics, early morning
running to throttle-gripping in the sea. I had one of the biggest smiles on my
face that entire day and for a long while after. It was the perfect break from
all the dockwalks and gave me a lovely boost ahead of the big Monaco Grand Prix
weekend. Cian I thank you, Boly-sur mer, I thank you too, however I don’t thank
the people that named you.
As soon as I arrived in Vive Le Frache, there was one place, and one place alone that stood at the top of my list to visit, and visit I did. Wether it was through tedious hours of dock walking, a few casual hours waiting for trains or some spent hydrating in the local pitstops, Monaco was the place I wanted to Xplore and Xperience as best I could. A mere ONE hour train ride form my humble Antibes abode, Monaco was a place that was frequently meandered to. Im going to split this blog post into 3 parts.. for the benefit of my paragraph + photo construction, as well as your reading pleasure. The main categories I will be tackling are, 1. The dock , 2. The Town and most importantly 3. The jol. ( Afrikaans word, of native South Africa, pertaining to ' The Party ' , Jol just rolls off the tongue that much smoother). You might be thinking I am leaving out one of the most important/vital benefits of being in Monaco, yes the F1 Grand Prix, but due to my level of awesome-ness experience in that one weekend alone, it is highly deserving of it's own, soon to be written blog post. That aside, lets get to the 1,2,3..
1. The Dock
First up a track, often played on trips to and from said dock, whist you read and recollect with me, Chris Malinchak - So good to Me.
Arriving in Monaco train station often in a crowd of various dock walking friends, ( whose name shall not be mentioned due to copyright infringements ). We immediately got to photographing and ooh-ing and aah-ing, as all Asian tourist are trained to do before leaving their homeland. The concept of dock walking sometimes took a slight back seat as we just soaked marvelous Monaco in as best as we could. Arriving in Monaco the first time and many times after I felt compelled, and sometimes followed through with a causal, " Howzit Charlene ". As a proud South African one could not be more patriotic in a land where a fellow home-girl is a Princess. Seriously.
But getting back to the dock, well three to be exact, they were long and long. Monaco boasts one of the biggest ports and plays host to many a super yacht, sail yacht and mega yacht. Apart from attempting to hand C.V's out in the lengthy U-shaped main port, if you walk a little further there is another and followed on from that is another, name Cap d' Ail, or ' Kap Die ', as most people term it. The Monaco dock walk to be fair is not the worst, every time you look onward to the grueling 500m you have to walk from one quay to the next, a quick look up at your surroundings and your walk is immediately made easier by the glamourous views and sightings one can have a long the way, Many a dock walk was done in Monaco, most of the time just because I knew a friend who was on a yacht there at the time and wanted to catch them on their lunch break for a much needed two-armed hug, but also because it was fun, and you never felt too self-depleted after a Monaco mission.
Escalators from one port to the next, casual.
Walking in and around the F1 stands.
During one dock walk we were even put to the test by a scam artist, promising us a job if we in turn gave him money for some sort of necessary boat insurance. Definitely entertaining and weird, but hey, It's Monaco.
Class, Class, Class.
Random statues to keep you entertained along the way.
Moments like this made that day of dock walk that much better.
The second port, Beautiful.
Reflections and Sails
Kap - Die .. Beach sign.
The 'beach'
Approaching Monaco Marina from my yacht.
It all made sense, the hours of dock walking, finally landing a job and getting to see Monaco from the Port entrance on a yacht, absolutely breath-taking.
My wheels from my yacht, made Monaco that much easier.
2. The Town
Brilliant, beautiful, styled and schwarve. Just some of the adjectives one can neatly place alongside any description of Monaco and the city it proudly presents. I was fortunate enough to have quite a few strolls around the streets at all hours of the day, and managed to see many somewhat hidden beauties lying a little further from the port. Every street seems to have it's own unique character and the attention to detail is astounding. Att : Readers : Keep that first song playing in the background, it will flow through the photos with the greatest of ease.
Monaco Train Station
Tunnels and Turns
All over the city.
Monaco Zoo
Statues in Parks
All over the city there are board with historical photographs pertaining to the exact street you are on, awesome!
The famous Casino.
Pavement. Literal walking on Sunshine
Ladies and gentlemen that concludes the serious part of our Monaco tour, now onto a somewhat slightly light-hearted and festive subject,
3. The Jol
Before we go any further, press play on this next track, its time for a little shift in mood. This song has quickly become one of my classic summer hits over the past while, yes i said summer because this is my second summer of the year :) The remix is great and lifts the song into a more upbeat and cheeky space.
Most people, including ourselves would think that a night out in Monaco would yield over-priced drinks, crudites and hush-hush chit chat. However we managed to find one of the greatest loopholes to this problem, as did many 'yachties' and other travelers rolling in on the same budget. A wonderful oasis situated straight off the port, on one of the more famous F1 corners aims to hydrate those in need.They have a delightful deal whereby all liqour purchased between 4pm and 11pm is half price. Some call this place heaven some call it hell but all recall it as La Rascasse.
Our first Rascasse experience, yes it's that big of a deal, happened somewhat unexpectedly ( even though we had all packed a bag with a change of clothes ), after a day of serious warm weathered dock walking. We had heard from a reliable friend, of this so-called Rascasse place and decided to check it out as some vital hydrating became the call at the end of our long day. We arrived there at 3:58, unbeknown to this deal that would begin a mere 2 minutes later. We waited it out hands tingling, smiles starting to grow as the minutes passed by. Boom ( well there was no actual boom but it felt like it at the time ) , 4pm struck and our first round of drinks were ordered. A pint of their beer seemed like the best option, a casual 3 Euro's and we sipped on that golden deliciousness again and again. More people started to join as word got out and shifts on nearby yachts ended. jaegerbombs slowly started infiltrating our now ever-growing shifty table, beers were still being consumed at a usual pace and stories, hugs photos and more were engulfing our wonderful time.
The night then took an unexpected turn as a few of us started being confused when comparing the amount of actual beers drunk vs the way we felt. My friend Nick, a proud upstanding experienced beer drinker from back home and myself, who from an early age thanks to my older brother was taught to appreciate and enjoy beer like a champ, were decidedly baffled. We thought long and hard and reviewed the facts, this was no causal chat and we were one discussion point short of a powerpoint presentation on the matter, we took it that seriously.
Our rigorous research showed was that we had suffucently eaten that day, we were also not mixing and therefore the amount of consumed crispy cold beers should not have resulted in the aforementioned results.The night came upon us and we trotted to the train station where some of the best interpretative dances were then performed on Platform A.
The next time our troop went through for a Rascasse rumble twas a fresh and clean Friday. We had some new members join our gang and were ready to take on Monaco and give ourselves a night different to the usual Antibes/JLP jol. On the train ride Nick and I got back to our 'hot topic' and formed our somewhat hefty hypothesis. We assumed that the beers poured into glasses from the draught machine were rinsed with a little something special, and that if one had to consume the same amount of beers out of a bottle the effects would be vastly different. Walking into La Rascasse with our game plan in mind we like diligent students, got cracking on the workload.
When we were about four beers down it was plain to see that our theory had been correctly proved and Nick was for all intensive purposes on a much different 'level' to myself, who had been sipping away on some Coronas. We felt content, the next round of beers and jaegerbombs were ordered straight and cold, we then let loose and let our Monaco night take hold.
As all nights go, even though we were in mild Monaco, the usual suspects were in full swing. Crazy Taxi drivers, creepy foreigners, nonsensical conversations with twists and turns that leave you thinking what you were even speaking about in the first place. People testing out new dance moves, subtle shouting, woeful whispering, highest of high-5's and more. We made a little turn tot he infamous Monte Carlo Casino, after about 15 minutes spent trying to get through security with passports being shared around we were in, as girls we all went to the bathroom to freshen up and by the time we came out the boys were ready to leave, love had been lost in that hopeless place in the space of about 10 minutes and new horizons, namely those with some sort of pie/pizza place were put in sight. We never did manage to find such places and instead wound up crashing at a friend of a friends apartment for two to three hours whilst we waited for the trains. Walking around the streets of Monaco in the early hours with the sun rising was amazing, and the skipping and shivering made it that much better.
The morning train ride back to Antibes was nothing short of hilarious/nauseating/truthful and a one of a kind experience. By the time we got back to our apartment all memories had been recollected, beds were found, mid-morning munchies were had and operation-recovery was put in place until late afternoon, when the usual Antibes antics were approached.
All in all, at the end of the day, when the final car has crossed the line, Monaco is Marvellous. The times i spent there varied from great to greater and missions we made will always be remembered. I will still continue to pass through the port over the next while so a few more explorations will be had. My mentions on Monaco are however not complete, there is still the crazy tales from the weekend of the Formula 1 to come up, which will feature in a new post soon.
Until then 'Howzit Charlene' and dont drink the draughts unless u really want to.
