Rambling on a Train

On our last full day in Juan-Les-Pins we had sceduled a train trip. First west to Cannes, and then east to Nice, on to Monte Carlo and return to J-L-P. A big day, but a grouse day. The train trip is an experience in itself. It follows the coast and affords a wonderful view of the plage (sorry, beach) all the way along.

Cannes probably has some wonderful redeeming features. One of these is the annual film festival, which hopes some day to reach the dizzy heights of the Wangaratta Jazz Festival, which attracts hundreds of visitors every year, and even a few more. We took pictures on the red carpet of the cinema, but totally failed to check out the famous murals that are famous internationally.

After that we re-traced our rail rambles through J-L-P and on to Nice. Nice has trams. And a huge square. And a prominade on the beach-front very similar to that of Cannes. It appears to be much bigger and huge numbers of people turn out for lunch in the many restaurants in the many squares around the old part of the city. When I was here a couple of years ago I listened to a couple of young kids playing Django Reinhart music in one of these squares. They played extremely well and I stayed and listened for some time. You need to dig out some of this Django music to see what I mean. Lots of strum-strum-strumming, with an overlay of melody. I love it. [Cut forward here to our 2010 trip whee we come across two busking bands playing Django Reinhardt music. Seems that Django has left his mark here in the haute Provence!]

Django aside, we made for Monte Carlo for the final onslaught of the day. Unbelievable wealth here, with king-sized yachts, swanky richos and wealth beyond imagination. I don't care for it myself. This raisin d'être is far beyond my comprehension. I give up!

Back to Juan-Les-Pins after a delightful dinner in the lower cost section of the principality, we tumbled into bed; tired, but happy. The stands for the annual motorsport were being dissembled for another year and I had done my dough (10 euro entry) at the Casino. It was time for bed. I think I have had my fill of imagining what it would be like to be rich, and all I needed was some shut-eye.

More Django later ...

YFB,

Groom!