But that was a rather dreary end to an otherwise lovely day. I don't like getting up early, and it was necessary, but so worth all the struggle. Monaco is like southern France, only cleaner and more on the extravagantly coiffed side. Less traffic, less people, and less tacky ads or posters bordering the streets. Just flowers, and decorative railings. Of course, I only saw a select portion of Monaco––the area around the exotic gardens and the palace. I'm sure it's an expensive neighborhood. In fact, most of my pictures of Monaco are of the gardens, or views from the gardens, because I spent the majority of my time there. I appear to have been partially abandoned by the group of girls I've been spending time with, and as a result, was pretty much on my own all afternoon.
And it was marvelous. For once, I didn't have to worry about being left behind or annoying people when I stop every five seconds to take a picture. I can do what I want, on my schedule, and I don't have to play polite by asking others what they want to do. When my feet hurt from walking, I could just stop. Wherever I wanted. After I bought my obligatory postcards, and took enough photos of the cathedral and streets, I retreated to a small, shaded bench in the gardens, overlooking the Mediterranean. The college packed us a bagged lunch (water bottle, an apple, a banana, a bag of chips, some cookies, and a sandwich that pretty much consisted of bread and mayonnaise), so I plopped down, ate, and enjoyed the fact that I was in Monaco, looking out across the Mediterranean. There were bird all over the place, pretty white ones, not pigeons, and they'd chirp as they hopped from tree to tree; the sun was shining; the water sparkled white. And it was Monaco! I'm getting the opportunity to see so many amazing things, to go places I've always only read about.
I must also admit to being overjoyed at hearing buses were no longer allowed to drive past the Monte Carlo Casino, which disappointed and pissed off the two-thirds of the kids who only came along to see it and/or gamble. Laughing quietly to myself, I kept my eyes out the window as we drove across very elevated mountaintops to reach Eze.
Because I'm sure most of you aren't aware (I wasn't), Eze is a small town that, along with Grasse, is known as the perfume capital of the world. They make the perfumes that are sold at exorbitant prices in Paris, New York, etc; and Eze is home to one of the oldest perfume factories in France––it was started in 1747. It was also a walled Medieval town up on top of a mountain, which is somewhat well preserved today. Several miles worth of walking up a steep incline was worth not only the breathtaking view of all the surrounding valleys and the ocean, but also for the tiny, narrow streets of buildings with tiled roofs and wooden shutters, old stone foundations and plants growing up and down the walls. Literally, everywhere I turned, there was a picture to take.
Fortunately, my camera battery lasted just until I got to the bottom of the mountain on my way back down.
I don't know if it's just because I study this stuff (having a rather unhealthy obsession with things and places hundreds or thousands of years old) that makes it so fascinating or what. I hope not. Except I kinda do. I don't want everyone to like what I like, is that selfish? I'd enjoy talking to people about it, but I hate it when things I love become trendy. That's when they get ruined. Take pirates, for example. So if there were just a few educated people who liked to discuss historical or philosophical or what-have-you subjects, that would be great.
On the way back to Cannes, I was convinced half the students studying abroad with me were alcoholics. They drink all. day. long. Every place we go, they have to stop and buy a bottle of wine, vodka, beer, rum, etc, and they carry it with them like a precious object (more precious than, say, their passport or their wallet). It's not like they sip the darn things either; they chug. Pass it around to their friends, and chug some more. (Furthermore, I don't know how they afford it; one girl bought a double shot of whisky for 15 euro. I squirm at spending that much on essential food.)
That's when I came to an epiphany. They're not alcoholics, yet. They drink because they're scared to not do so. First of all, it's an automatic group of friends, like joining a sorority or fraternity. No matter where you go, there's a group of kids who will go out, party, drink, and voilà! A group to belong to. Second of all, alcohol usually makes you feel good. Tipsy makes talking to people easier, makes doing things you normally wouldn't easier, and takes away that little voice in the back of your head that says, "Don't say that, you'll sound stupid! Don't do that, people will think you're stupid!" (Unless I'm the only one with that voice, in which case, scratch that last.) And it temporarily gives you energy. So what happens if they don't drink constantly? They'd feel lonely sometimes, sad sometimes, they'd doubt and worry sometimes, and sometimes they'd feel stupid around their peers, which makes them less confident. Basically, they'd feel like I do frequently: normal. So they drink.
It's not much different, reasoning-wise, from me taking anti-anxiety meds. But I think I prefer my method.
Sorry, guys, I think a lot.
Speaking of thinking, I've been wondering: why is it that people and me don't mix? People my age, I should clarify, but sometimes people in general. It's only been a week, and already the girls I've been hanging out with have ditched me. People in this study abroad group pretty much avoid me, as far as I can tell. I'm not upset or hurt by it, honestly (and I know, everyone's going to say "Lie!" but it's really the truth. I'm simply pondering on a curiosity basis). I'm just, frankly, curious as to why. I don't stink; I'm nice (to the vast majority of people); I'm intelligent and well-spoken (maybe that's the problem?); I'm not hideous; I like to think I'm somewhat of an interesting person; I'm open to what others want to do (even if I don't, necessarily. I'm willing to compromise). So what's up? And, okay, yeah, I tend toward quiet, but that can't be that big a deal, right?
This is not a pity-post. This is the usual glimpse into my mind and thoughts. They tend to go all over the place, as you can probably tell.
Did I mention that everyone here has a dog? And that those dogs go everywhere with them? Sometimes on a leash, but sometimes not. It's bizarre. Every other person on the street has a dog. There's another question for you: what's the attraction? Cats are much less work, much smarter, and much cuter (no offense to dog-lovers).
Oh! Also, I bought perfume in Eze. It's about half the price there than it would be in Paris, so I thought it was a reasonable expenditure. 38 euro for 4 bottles of perfume, plus one thrown in free. This isn't cheap perfume, either. It's the fancy stuff they sell in Nordstrom's and Neiman Marcus (spelling on that one? I'm not a huge fan of the store, myself). Some of it's for you, Mom!
Off to upload photos. I can't post nearly all the ones I want to (I took some two hundred), but I'll post my favorites, and the ones that best show off the trip.
I am so incredibly lucky. Few people ever get to do things like this.
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