The volcanic ash effect was playing on my mind as I was packing for my next trip. So far, I had not crossed paths with Eyjafjallajokull but who knew what the future had in store for me. Anyways, I tried hard not to look at the ash forecasts and airport closure news leading to my flight. This so that I would not be too disappointed if my flight
did get cancelled due to Eyjafjallajokull’s smoking habits.
But when I did manage to make the flight, I had other things
to start worrying about – the weather. It had been raining non-stop in the French Riviera (which is where I was headed) for the previous week so I astutely packed my umbrella and raincoat (for the record I didn’t have to use either!).
The landing into Nice gave me a sampler of things to come – from the skies we could see yachts, palm trees, beaches, villas, azure waters, tennis courts, and swimming pools. I was staying at Antibes (apparently a haunt for painters / writers – Maugham, Picasso, Matisse, Hemingway, Fitzgerald all stayed here at some point in their lives) which was a nice little breeze-swept coastal town. It was the next best alternative to staying in Cannes as Cannes is stupidly expensive during the film festival and hotels only take bookings for the entire 12 days of the festival. So I settled for Antibes. The town has a daily large spices/vegetables market which was good fun to just walk through. Antibes was a rather handy place to be in for day trips to Nice, Monaco, and Cannes.
The 63rd Cannes film festival was on during my stay and I made the most of it (Cannes is just a 10 minute train ride from Antibes). The festival itself is exclusively meant for the media- and film-types only and outsiders like me can hope to see little (nothing actually) there apart from the crowds and occasional spottings of the stars. People wait for hours in front of the big hotels (Martinez, Carlton) in the hope of catching a glimpse of the actors and actresses.
The atmosphere is buzzing at Cannes during the festival – One hears stories of starlets waiting to be ‘discovered’ on the beaches at Cannes. There might be some truth to the story as you would find a ridiculously high per capita presence of people there who are either over- or under-dressed. One gets to see all sorts of clichés - Spanish filmmakers, Italian Casanovas, American starlets – all vying for attention. The number of people really took me aback – it was like a fish market but a really good-looking and well-dressed fish market. And of course, the fishes (or fishmongers, take your pick) were doing the rounds in their open-top Ferraris, Bentleys, and Lamborghinis.
Though I was not expecting to see too many stars, I decided not to go away without spotting atleast some of them. I bumped into a few Indians there and we did a bit of research on timings / locations and figured that the best place to be was in front of the red carpet in front of the main hall of the Palais des Festivals. The place where the red carpet started and the stars got off their cars was the closest members of the public could get to. Films that are shown at the competition usually start at around 19:00 or 19:30 and we could see people waiting there at 2 in the afternoon. You could make out that those waiting in the Sun were real professionals as they had step ladders and Nat Geo kind of cameras. Following a bit of discussion we also decided to wait there and after a couple of excruciatingly long hours (of doing nothing but standing in the sun), we were rewarded with spotting of all the stars as they got off their black-tinted cars and stretch limousines onto the red carpet for the waiting paparazzi.
For all the patience, I was rewarded with sightings of Michael Douglas, Eva Longoria, Salma Hayek, Juliette Binoche, George Lucas, Oliver Stone, Martin Scorsese, Benicio Del Toro, Kate Beckinsale, Aishwarya Rai, Deepika Padukone, and another Indian-looking woman whom I didn’t recognise (only later did I find out that she was Malika Sherawat).
In front of Hotel Martinez, I heard shouts of “Woody Woody” - thinking that it was someone from college days I expectantly turned around to see a familiar face from college days. I just saw the pops of camera flashes and realised that Woody Allen was leaving the hotel with his family.
So all in all a reasonably successful sojourn at Cannes.
On the Saturday, I travelled to Monaco - about 40 minutes by train from Antibes – the train ride was along the coast and was, naturellement, spectacular - one could see bays and inlets with yachts, and beaches with crystal clear water. Aaaaah the rich and prosperous South of France. Who was it who said that "South of France is Sunny, but the people are shady"?
It was the Grand Prix weekend at Monaco so most of the roads were closed and I couldn’t get to the ‘sights’ the 'country' had to offer. Not being a die-hard F1 fan, I was not planning on spending money on “seeing” the qualifying session (it was the Saturday). But I could hear the cars going around the track and there was something very infectious about the extremely loud vrooooms - I succumbed to the temptation and decided “what the hell”. I was only willing to fork out money on the cheapest available ticket and prepared myself for a terrible seat with hardly a view.
To my pleasant surprise not only did our seats have a reasonable view of the ‘track’ (this is a street race, remember) but more importantly our seats were bang opposite the pit lane so we could see all the drivers get in and out of their cars. So more than the excitement of seeing (and hearing) the cars whizz by in loud blurs, I was able to spot Schumacher, Hamilton, Massa, Alonso et al.
What, however, I was totally unprepared for was the deafening roar of the cars as they passed our section – the noise is so loud that it is impossible to have a conversation even if you’re shouting. I had picked up one of those earplug thingies and had put it on before entering the stand. In the middle of the session some boys walked in without plugs and held their hands to their ears and immediately went looking for ear plugs to buy. I wondered why they were doing such a tamasha and took off my plugs just to hear what the fuss was all about.
What? What did you say?
(May, 2010)
Monaco is so rich and so small that it deserves a ridiculously small write-up. I visited it twice – once when the Grand Prix was one and all roads were appropriated by Messrs Massa, Alonso et al and I couldn’t see any of the sights (though I did splurge an obscene amount on ‘watching’ the qualifying session). 
