Magic on the Mediterranean Friday, August 6 Day 3 On the Road with MaggieMay... We had a full day ahead of us. The sunshine poured into my room (mental note: shut the curtains before you go to bed!) and I woke up feeling pretty darn good. I had set out the order form for breakfast at 2am after struggling with it for a FULL half hour. My brain was beyond even the simplest of tasks after the trip, the boat, and the dinner and I just couldn’t decipher the order form. Jambon? I had never HEARD of jambon! It was evidently a breakfast item, but what? Piccalilly? Blood sausage? Bacon apparently is BACON in any language, though I had discovered in England it’s Canadian ham. I finally muddled through it and hung it on the door. I subsequently discovered that ONE side was written in French, but if I had only turned it over, I would have found that the OTHER side was written in perfectly clear English. Sigh I am an idiot. Jambon, it seems, is HAM. Snort! I roused Hubby, warning him that breakfast would appear at any moment and jumped into the shower. It was the usual deep tub found abroad where one has to leap out afterward. I heard breakfast come in the door and felt a wave of fear about the coffee. Was it going to be the Barbie doll type espresso of the evening before? I’d have to drink it anyway. MaggieMay NEEDS her coffee!  Thank
God! It was regular coffee, AND it was wonderful. I was surprised
to see the Pink Stuff (how most Americans refer to Sweet and Low) on the
table. SueC and I had brought a large amount with us since Equal
is usually offered in the UK. Sweetener is a religion with us that
is fanatically observed. The omelette was fine, but the bacon, while
the same as American bacon, was well...not very crisp. “Limp” is
not a word I like to use about anything. Bacon proved to be
a battle that I couldn’t win. Even though I wrote BURN IT in black
marker on the breakfast order form, and underlined it, they refused to
cook it to my liking. Sigh A minor matter! The croissants
were quite good but nothing better than we find in the States. The
highlight was the freshly squeezed orange juice. I had plenty of
time to sit on my balcony, sip coffee and watch the boats. I could
have stayed there all day and been perfectly content. : )
 However,
I had set up a tour for our group, and it was an exciting prospect.
This was one of the advantages of traveling with a group of friends – it
worked out financially to hire our own driver and van rather than to sign
up for a tour. He was going to appear and take us anywhere we wanted
to go! SueC, Alice and Cathy arrived at our door to go down with
us and proceeded to pounce on our room service tray. No one in their
room had thought to put out the breakfast order form the night before,
a mistake I’m sure they didn’t make twice. It was close to 9am and
we were ready to go!
Angel was waiting patiently for us at the door, and our driver and guide from LivenupMonaco appeared promptly at 9am in front of The Grand Hotel. Jean-Louis was another nice guy, friendly and fun. SueC was in charge of the excursion and had looked at maps and gotten generally familiar with the area. The rest of us were more than willing to leave it up to her. I was happy to see anything! LOL  Our
original plan had been for 3 hours, but Pascale had warned me that 3 hours
would not be enough time to venture into Italy, so I had upped it to 4
(hence the 9am start). Friday was market day in Ventimiglia, Italy,
and we we agreed with Jean-Louis that would be a good place to start.
What a PERFECT day! Sunshine, but not too hot, just pleasantly warm. We weren’t in any kind of rush, and Jean-Louis made us feel completely comfortable. Every moment was something new to see, unusual or pretty or both! LOL We drove out of Monte Carlo, and thru Monaco. I was surprised how small Monte Carlo is, really, a few minutes and we were out of it. You couldn’t easily tell except for the signs. I saw a number of signs for Plage and couldn’t figure that one. Jean-Louis said it meant “beach” which of course, made perfect sense. I asked him about “glacier” too, having noticed it on the signs for a number of restaurants. Ice cream! LOL!!!  We
drove along the Cote d’Azur, passing beaches and quite a few people already
sunbathing at 10am. Every passing scene was beautiful! I was
surprised that the beaches were rocks instead of sand. Not big rocks,
but ones that appeared to be large pebbles, perhaps 3 inches in diameter
(their appearance from a distance). Some young people had only a
towel and I think lying on those pebbles would be very uncomfortable.
Many people had beach chairs. Jean-Louis said you really had to go
to St Tropez for a nice sand beach. There were a number of small
restaurants interspersed among lovely apartments with pots of brightly
colored flowers on their balconies. The pharmacies were easy to pick
out with their green neon crosses. The streets weren’t crowded, but
comfortably populated. Our first stop was a lovely lookout
over the beach and harbor. We had been begging Jean-Louis to stop
and let us out to take photos, but he knew the perfect place to (safely)
stop.  Ah!
It’s the land of a million GORGEOUS views. No, I don’t know the name
of the area we were looking at. I know Jean-Louis told me, and if
anyone DOES know, please drop me a line. I *should* have taken notes,
but I was afraid I might make him “nervous”. ; )
Was it Cap Martin? SueC says it was Menton. I think I
may retire there! LOL
Our second stop was at the Italian border, in a pullover area near the old border crossing, right against a wide expanse of the Mediterranean. The European Union is a marvelous achievement for visitors and I’m sure a great blessing for the inhabitants. You’re not stopped crossing the border to Italy (and I understand a number of European countries are included in this arrangement), there are no questions, and no hassles. It’s fantastic! We jumped out to stretch our legs, and get some sea shots. The official buildings are still there against a hillside, with palm trees and purple flowers, and some kind of bar/liquor store nestled underneath. A fruit wagon was set up in the laybye, manned by a handsome Italian lad hovering over the nice ripe melons.  On
to Ventimiglia! Italy looks *different* from Monaco. Poorer,
less well kept. Still cool, though! Jean-Louis gave us our
*instructions*: Go to the market, watch your wallets and pocketbooks
closely (!!!), here are a few restaurants for your lunch and meet me back
at the footbridge at 1pm. He was so good! He dropped us off
and we headed over the water toward the bustling market. Market Day
is a big thing and there was a huge crowd. A large part of it was
more like an American-style flea-market, a lot of junk, with many stalls
that could have been selling goods that had, um, “fallen off the truck”.
LOL Hubby kept close, and made sure that no one became too familiar
with my purse It was quite a crush! The only thing that caught
my eye was a huge display of pashmina scarves in every color possible,
and it was the only thing I bought. A big, slow moving crowd is not
my favorite thing, and we had had enough.  Gabe
and I had lost the other gals; remarkably, we all came back at the same
time. I went a few yards in another direction toward the food stalls,
and loved the quaint appearance of the meat and cheese displays.
I wanted to buy a huge chunk of the parmesano-reggiano cheese (there were
TONS of it, huge wheeels) but I was sure the aromatic smell would attract
the dogs at the airport. I leaned over to get a good whiff and the
elderly stall keeper cut off a piece and held it out to me. That’s
not something I usually eat out of hand, but I couldn’t refuse him and
he talked for quite a while in Italian, with me nodding my agreement as
I tried to choke down the very dry cheese. LOL The meat stand
was incredibly cool, but scary in a way, too. I don’t care
HOW well-cured meat is, I like it kept refrigerated. <shudder>  There
was a large tub of iced drinks and a table of very red, very ripe watermelon
that was hard to pass up. Everyone agreed it was time for LUNCH.
Our group walked back over the bridge with its picturesque view of the village. A discussion ensued over where to have our first meal in Italy, but I had already silently chosen a small cafe with outside seating and a view of the sea. LOL There were a number of vendors that had set up shop on the sidewalk and one had to wind their way between them. There was nothing I wanted or needed, but various of our party stopped to look and only three of us made it to the cafe. Gabe was the last to finish shopping. Our waitress was a pretty girl, and though her English was limited to only a few words, we got on well. She knew “pizza” and that sufficed.  I
am quite pissed off at my French phrase books. The ONLY thing I really
needed to know was how to ask for a Diet Coke. That proved to be
a toughie. I quickly picked up that “Coke” was not what one phrase
book suggested (Coca). It’s Coca-Cola. After a lot of confusion,
it dawned on us that to GET a Diet Coke, one needed to ask for Coke Light.
That’s what it said on the label! Really nothing else mattered.
Lunch was lovely, the various focaiccia sandwiches we had ordered were excellent, and the Coke Light was cold. Cathy traded her proscuitto with SueC for a more familiar-tasting ham and cheese, and Alice offered everyone a bite of her pizza which she described as “freakin’ awesome”. There were no chips, in fact, I didn’t have a single chip or “crisp” the entire week. There just weren’t any! The only thing I did find were cheese twists. Shrug We inquired about Toilette Femme and I had a vision of the Scot restroom in “Trainspotting”. It was very cute and very clean, thank God. I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see it was ten til one and time to meet Jean-Louis at the footbridge around the corner. One thing I noticed is there isn’t a lot of checking back by your server. It’s nothing as bad as Japan, where they drop your bill on the table and never EVER come back. They’re in no rush to bring your bill in this area of the world! At least, that was my experience. It’s as if they expect you to stay the afternoon and want you to. Luckily, there were other customers, and we were able to flag our young lady down with a sweetly called “L'addition, s'il vous plait!” EVERYONE understood that.  We
were rested, full and in good shape for the afternoon. I could sense
a few difficulties in the air. One of our party (and she shall remain
anonymous) asked where we were going next and I pointed up to the mountains.
WHAT? I reminded her that we wanted great spots for photos, and had
discussed the trip before we left The States, but I think she hadn’t actually
realized what I meant. Jean-Louis was there to collect us and we
sped off and up, up, UP. The view was amazing, breathtaking, spectacular!
I wanted to hang my head out the window to take it all in. We flew
up the mountain road. It turned out Jean-Louis was a huge racing
fan and not beyond a little fancy driving himself!
This was the kiss of death for our two skittish and sensitive riders. God bless their little queasy tummies! I was not the only one wanting to hang my head out the window! LOL All those hairpin turns were something, and the road was so narrow that Jean-Louis honked his horn when we approached a bend. 
I could have pulled the foliage off the cliff as we hugged the wall to
allow others to pass going down. It was that close at times.
Jean-Louis took us to what proved to be my favorite spot of the entire trip – the village of Ste Agnes. He said it was the highest village in all of Europe. It is truly off the beaten-path, completely untouristy and non-commercial, a simple place of great natural beauty. We had an incredible view to the Mediterranean and could see for miles all around. It was difficult to tear myself away. Our guide pointed out a path to me below our look-out point and told me it was the very old footpath the villagers use to make their way down the mountain by foot. I swear, I expected Heidi to appear in her dirndl surrounded by goats, calling “Grandfather, Grandfather!” Was he serious? It was steep beyond belief, and you could barely see the steps. Oh yes, he said.  The
very worst thing that can happen is that you get back from your shopping
and realize you’ve forgotten the beer! LOL
The parking behind us was next to some old fortifications, flowers were now growing beside them, a hopeful symbol of peace. J-L (funny...that seems so familiar!) had suggested we walk though the village and said he would have the van waiting for us at the other side. Gabe and SueC took off to explore, kindred spirits that they are and Cathy and I strolled leisurely under the pines while Lisa and Alice went ahead of us at a quicker pace. We found them at a small store that basically sold two things: lavender and postcards. I bought some of both from the pleasant proprietor, as usual smiling and nodding and not understanding a damn word he said. The short walk thru St Agnes was magical. There were no crowds, no hawkers, just the sense that you had entered a place that time forgot, a place of great beauty and simple pleasures. We came out into a courtyard by the Church of St Agnes, and ventured into another small store for water. The gentleman there did speak some English and rattled off all the places he had visited in The States. Surprisingly, he had missed Indiana! LOL  Everyone
started to straggle in to the courtyard. I was perched on the edge
of a wall with a hell of a deadly drop behind me, the closest I come to
living dangerously. J-L had tired of waiting on us and had decided
to hunt us down for fear we were lost. Gabe finally turned up – he
had walked up to the village cemetery, but he was without SueC. I
was thinking about a search party when she came thru the doorway to the
courtyard.
We finished our drinks and walked down to the van. J-L had become aware that two were getting a little sick, and one was on the verge of it (naming no names) and was sober when he told them we had to do a little more “mountain climbing”. He drove with consideration, but had to point out that the road we were scaling was used for the motor rally. At night. In the pitch dark! Someone called out, do they ever go over? I thought that was it, we were sure to lose at least one of the girls. 
I kept seeing signs for La Turbie; we drove through, but didn’t stop.
At one point, the road narrowed and the car coming down couldn’t get by
our van. He had to back up the mountain to allow us to pass.
I wasn’t sure of mountain etiquette. J-L winked and said we’re the
bigger car! LOL It was something to see and not a little frightening
to watch the car carefully back up with the sheer drop feet away.
Gabe and I used to be hackers, so J-L took us by the Monte Carlo Golf Club (18 holes, par 71). Nice place, nice looking course. Our fellows trotted in for a quick “stop” and we jumped out, and took a couple pictures, nothing too exciting. An employee flew at us out of nowhere, YELLING "No Pictures!!" and I know each of us jumped right out of our shoes. My controversial and extremely damaging photo is of the flag at the 18th hole. No one is there, no even a squirrel, just the freakin’ flag. If there had been a No Photos Desired sign we would have honored it. OK, if there had been a No Photos Desired sign in English, we would have honored it, or at least given it serious consideration. LOL I will certainly chastise any foreign visitors I see taking photos at MY country club the next time it happens! No Exceptions! Our guide was quite surprised. shrug  We
left the golf club with our noses in the air, though not out of joint and
headed back on the road. At some point we began to go DOWN.
Anyone in the van that had thought going up was bad, immediately reconsidered.
I even began to feel a little queasy. Every time we went around a
hairpin curve (and there were dozens) it felt like the van was rolling
over. J-L took them very slowly and considerately. After a
particularly bad spot, one of the girls turned to me and said Maggie, we’re
going DIRECTLY back to the hotel, aren’t we? Um...no? J-L stepped
in with a brilliant idea, offering to drop our drooping sisters off at
the hotel, then take whomever was left back out to see more. It was
a plan! I know the girls were hanging on for dear life.
Three got out of the van and three stayed on.
 We
started the last section of our tour with the Princess Grace Rose Garden
(mentioned by Justin in various interviews). It’s a delightful little
spot, small and winsome. I liked it very much. An open gate
welcomes you and there are several appealing sculptures within the gardens,
one is in the center of the attractive pond. It’s very close to the
waterfront and I noticed the heliport close by. It didn’t take long
to walk through the garden. I had always liked Princess Grace and
I hope that her time in Monaco was what she wanted out of life. Our
next stop was Palais Princier (The Palace). I was told that The Family
Grimaldi had run in to “difficulties” in its native Italy around 700 years
ago, and the original Grimaldis were forced to relocate. The gentleman
went to the monastery and knocked, and when the unfortunate priest asked
what he could do for him, he killed him!  The
Palace is lovely, very simple in appearance with a minimum of guards or
obvious security. There’s a large courtyard and shops across the street.
The overlook onto Port Hercule provides yet another beautiful view.
It’s a fantastic spot! I could see the Grand Hotel directly across
the harbor, and realized that Stars ‘n Bars must be below me and to the
right. Orientation is a wonderful thing! LOL That side
of the palace still resembles a fort, complete with cannons on the parapet
and large piles of cannonballs below. There’s a beautiful, though
disturbing stone statue dominating the park-like area, and benches for
the weary. And I was! Frankly though, I felt less weary
than, um...”waterlogged”. SueC plunked herself down next to me and
expressed the same desire. We needed a ladies room! LOL
 Jean-Louis
reappeared at the appointed spot and we expressed our sincere desire to
experience a view of the native plumbing. He had to think a minute!
LOL He rounded the corner and pulled into the parking lot of the
Oceanographic Institute, giving us directions to the nearest water closet.
Quite a few people were visiting the sights and it was difficult to pass
up the chance to visit the Institute. We’ll have to save that for
our next visit to Monte Carlo. (HAHA) There was a small building
past the Institute on the other side of the drive with the universal signs
for such facilities. Another sign said: Abri Chiens. OK, I
knew “chien” (well, and there was a drawing of a dog on the sign, too),
but I didn’t know what the sign meant. Curb your dog? Possibly.  We
didn’t have a dog with us, so it wasn’t a big worry.
It is not an American custom to tip someone to use the ladies room. We just don’t do that! Even the finest places (at least the ones I have been to) do not usually have restroom attendants. It’s VERY rare. However, it is THEIR custom in Europe, and I don’t mind it. Really, the problem with Americans traveling is we want to tip EVERYBODY. LOL!!! When I’m traveling, I hand out ones, fives (and more as required) like giving out candy to a room full of small children. I am very popular in America! Tips are built in to our economy and that fact was brought home to me personally while working at Steak and Shake during my high school days. Yes, MaggieMay was a waitress and made more money than anyone else at her restaurant, discovering then exactly what a warm smile is worth. ; ) SueC and I walked in to the small shelter, passing a couple teen-aged girls and found (to our surprise) a MAN sitting in an alcove connecting the women’s and men’s facilities. There he was, and there was a plate with change in it. I had no idea WHAT to tip! Too little is an insult and too much is foolish. Sigh I fished out a 2 euro coin from my pocket (hoping it would work for both of us and having no idea if it would) and laid it on the plate, receiving both some toilet paper and a paper towel and a large smile. (Damn! Too much! LOL) SueC waited, and was laughing when we walked out moments later. It seems the two girls also wanted to use the restroom but either had no money or simply didn’t want to pay and had argued (in French) with the attendant, finally pushing into the stalls without his tissues or his blessing. While I had hoped to visit the Trophee d’Auguste (the monument of Roman conquest), it was close to five and our time was running out. Sigh Jean-Louis had something else in mind for us! We popped back into the van and J-L told us that we would be going up the road where Princess Grace had died. EEEK! 
Then he FLOORED it. There was no longer any need for measured and careful driving and J-L was going to show us what he could do. I held on for dear life. J-L told us he was going to take us to a special place where he didn’t usually take Americans. I’m going to kill him. If you look up from the Princess Grace Rose Garden, or really from anywhere in Monte Carlo (looking southwest) you will see Tete de Chien (Dog’s Head). It’s very distinctive, capped with a building that looks like an observatory (in reality, something to do with radio.) We ripped up there at top speed and stopped just shy of the observatory at the side of the road. There was nothing there! I was mystified. J-L got out and led us down a rocky and uneven path, giving no clue. We went thru a short tunnel and stepped out on a small plateau. He led us out onto a large piece of what looked like granite.  Halfway
out, it dawned on me that we were on the very edge, the completely unprotected
edge of a sheer cliff hundreds of feet above Monte Carlo.
I froze. Absolutely froze! This extremely hard rock was angled down and out, and there wasn’t a single thing between you and death. Birkenstock sandals are not the shoe of choice for rock-climbing, though I don’t think there’s any shoe in the WORLD that would have encouraged me to walk out onto this spot. Oh, the view was breathtaking, all right! Well, it takes a lot to render me speechless, and this did. My goofball husband and lunatic best friend walked almost to the edge, just snapping away, not the first time they have done stuff that has had me thinking over what I’m going to say to the children about why Mommy/Daddy isn’t coming home. LOL J-L finally looked around (I knew Gabe and SueC weren’t going to) and I silently held out my hand to him, thinking, Buddy, if *I* go over, YOU are coming with me!  It
took a couple tugs before I could convince my feet to move. I took
a few photos, not of the VIEW, but of SueC and Hubby, courting death.
I’m going to kill THEM too! LOL!!!
We left, and J-L got us back to the Grand at exactly 6pm. Our nine hour tour had been a good start, and Jean-Louis was a fabulous driver, interpreter, tour guide and fun companion. I’m still going to kill him for that last bit! LOL I was beyond tired, but there was no time to rest. We had dinner reservations at 8. There are a lot of subtle differences between The States (in general, since there are incredible regional differences in customs within the USA) and Monaco. For instance, the hotel staff is apt to knock once and COME IN to your room. That was a surprise more than once! I was working on getting dressed for dinner and had just (literally) jumped out of the shower, when one knock and boom – in came the maid. That was ok! We weren’t sure why she was there, and she spoke almost no English. I had a sudden thought though and asked her for towels. Nope! She didn’t know the word. I didn’t either! I had to point and she surprised me by saying, ah! Serviette! What? Doesn’t that mean a table napkin in England? (And “napkin” means diaper of all things.) Well, it means “towel” in Monaco. LOL Hey, I could order Diet Coke and get towels from the maid. I had it MADE.  Our
concierge kindly made reservations for 6 arriving at 8pm at La Piazza,
doing this for us as part of a series of email questions and requests before
our arrival. They’re terrific at the Grand! I had asked Justin
to name his favorite restaurant in Monte Carlo during his chat and decided
to follow his recommendation. It was an outstanding suggestion, Mr
Hayward! : ) I probably should have found out exactly
where it was, but it kept slipping my mind. No matter! We got
into a couple taxis, asked for La Piazza and 2 minutes later, we were there.
LOL It turned out it was around the block from our hotel. We
were offered a strange choice of seats, either in front of the restaurant,
or across the street from the restaurant in what looked like the median.
LOL!!! I couldn’t imagine how that would work! Would they cross
the street with your food? (Yes, they would, checking for traffic
first) A number of people served our table, all delightful, and our
English speaking waitress did an excellent job of describing the menu and
the offerings.  Too
good a job! I love appetizers, and really, prefer them over main
course dishes, so we ordered several. Timbale of spinach, crispy
spring rolls, various salads and Alice of course, had the French onion
soup. That’s her thing – French onion soup across the world.
LOL Gabe and Jean-Marc had had a long discussion on the boat about
rosé-champagne and we decided to try it. I had noticed a Margarita
on their menu and tried it, and like all Margaritas in the eastern hemisphere,
it sucked – way too tart and way too strong, but it suited one of my girlfriends
perfectly. It was a gorgeous night, clear, dry, pleasant, sigh...just
perfect! We drank, we drank some more, we ate, we ate some more and
we talked and laughed for hours. HOURS!!! Remember, they don’t
bring your check! They don’t make you leave! I admit, I really
wasn’t hungry for my beef stroganoff (very tender, nice and winey) after
the spring rolls, after the spinach with a great cream sauce and after
the salad, but it came anyway. The champagne drinkers at the table
finished off the first bottle of rosé-champagne (I loved it, Jean-Marc)
and decided to have a second.  The
entertainment was unending! Young people walked to and fro and there
were even some cruisers. By that I mean young people in cars, driving
in circles around town for no purpose other than to see and be seen.
One group cruised by (several times) in black afro wigs. LOL!!!
Hours with a group of women inevitably means trips (usually in pairs) to the ladies room and the first up reported back on her findings. It’s a good excuse to get up and stretch your legs, if nothing else. I finally decided I was sober enough to make the stairs (questionable) and went off with CL. We made it down the steps ok, but then stopped, perplexed. There were two doors and a very indistinct sign on each, some kind of mermaid. I couldn’t tell! I was trying to figure it out when a fellow slipped past me and went in the far door. A ha! We went in, and the two stalls (no attendant) were both occupied. Another gal came in and suggested I try the door handle and as I opened it out, a MAN came out. Well, WE were surprised! He seemed surprised, too. He was very big, and I know it shouldn’t be odd, but I am always put off by a large black man with an English accent. He should be talking down with The Hood (whatever that means – I’m not fluent). While he was pleasant and surprised, he apparently took a real liking to where he was and didn’t seem to WANT to leave. I escaped into the stall and left the other gals to deal with him.  I
don’t know where the time went! Things started to die down in the
restaurant and I checked my watch, gulping at the sight. It was 12:30am
and we had been there 4 and a half hours! One of our servers brought
by cordial glasses of an awful lemon flavored liquer that burned
going down. One sip was enough for me! Gabe and Sue seemed
to like it so I had Cathy stealthily exchange my full shot glass for his
empty one. Heheheh. You either really liked it or really didn’t
like it. I think SueC and Gabe had um...5 each? I know they
refilled them at least once. We tried the tiramisu (not up to Olive
Garden standards, I’m afraid) and ordered coffee receiving once again those
Barbie doll sized cups of evil. Heck, I drank mine.
La Piazza was a great place, but to be there with a group of your best friends on a gorgeous night...sigh! That is what life’s all about. One of the girls asked our server for her napkin as a memento and it seemed to please him (a big tip puts people in the most Christian of moods) so we all took ours – pink, with butterflies.  It
was only a block, but it was uphill to our hotel. We said our goodbyes
to the staff at La Piazza and started off. After a few yards I heard
someone calling "MaggieMay!" from the Irish bar next door. (No, it
didn't surprise me). There was our good friend Brian Broggy with
a Guinness in hand. It was very odd to see him without his wife and
kids, but I knew they had sent him to Europe with their blessings.
It was great to see him and probably very reassuring to Gabe that he wouldn't
be drowning alone in a pool of estrogen. HAHAHAHAHA
The nice thing about staying forever at a restaurant is that you are quite sober when you leave. LOL I wasn’t feeling tired at all! It was time to check out the small casino in our hotel. How was it? Quiet. Way too quiet. The machines are turned down and the people are quiet. They’re also the tightest damn slots I’ve ever seen went thru a hundred and got no pleasure out of it.  If
you want to gamble, take my advice and go to Vegas. Or even Atlantic
Ciy! The Bellagio is a raucous place by comparison. I saved
a few slot tokens for a friend who collects them and left. Alice
and Cathy had done some legwork around the hotel and had discovered a nice
bar past the casino. We were all DEFINITELY winding down from the amazing
and very long day. We ordered drinks and Gabe had the WORST martini
I’ve ever had to taste, being slightly reminiscent of kerosene. I asked
him why he had ordered a *red* martini and he said Red? I thought
she said WET! Well, whatever – he passed it around the group, trying
to get all the girls to take a sip and leave less that he would have to
drink. LOL We were sitting around and heard a blast, looked
out and saw Le Sporting Club showered in fireworks for the Red Cross Ball.
Fabulous! It was a perfect end to the day!
(If you think this was long to read, try to imagine writing it. I’m exhausted! I think my hair’s turning gray.) MaggieMay Fly me straight, and fly me high! Photos courtesy of SueC, MaggieMay, and Gabe |
August 7, 2004
Day Four