After running all around Provence in a search of every existing lavender plant and spending hours in the perfume factory, I decided to finish with the ME, ME & ME part of the trip and dedicate the rest of the day to A. and his obsession with car races in Monaco.
(How is it possible he knows every single curve of the Monte Carlo's main road without ever been here before is beyond me).
Horses & Hats
My intentions were good and it was not my fault the first thing we saw while searching for a parking place in the harbor of Monte Carlo was: Longines Global Champions Tour, a top-class horse jumping!
Bad luck A., bad luck. The tournament was about to start in a few hours so I made A. gatecrash the happening to see the horses from close up.
There were some semi-mounted stands selling horse equipment and on one of them I tried to kidnap a beauuuuuutiful puppy but the owner stopped me.
He was still taking the goods out of the boxes when I spot a beautiful hat, with a little horse-bit. I adore horse-bits and if anything has a horse-bit, I have to have it! A. bought me the hat knowing there was no way we would leave without it. I kissed the doggy goodbye and left with my adorable, too expensive hat.
It was hot as hell and we passed out in a restaurant in the front of The Prince's Palace of Monaco.
Parents with two little girls sat on the next table, almost touching ours and I got obsessed they would spill Campary over my new hat, reposing on the table, but there was simply no other place to put it.
Of course, they did.
While our “kids” were well behaving in their chairs as always, the little human monkeys were jumping around the table while their orangutan parents thought it was normal and then the bigger orangutan kid hit my glass and sloped Campary all over the table and my hat.
The orangutan family run away, without a word, while I was sitting there with my mouth open looking at equally shocked A.
Suddenly I started to cry like a two-year-old.
A. was shocked:
”I CAN NOT believe you're actually crying! I'll buy you another hat!”
“I don't want another hat, I want MY hat!”
“Ok, we'll clean it!”
“HOW can we clean a white hat with a bloody red stain on it?!”
“Ok, let's go back to the harbor and buy the other hat!”
“I DON'T WANT ANOTHER HAT! I LOVE MY HAT!”
I was sobbing…
We were walking to our car without talking. I hated Monte Carlo, I hated the orangutans, I hated myself for not asking the waiter to be situated on the opposite side of the restaurant, away from the wild monkeys, I hated it was so hot we were melting and thanks to the tears and sweat, my mascara was literally leaking and leaving traces behind me all over Monte Carlo.
If we were in Africa, I would never be able to bluff a lion, he would have found me and eat me alive, thanks to my mascara trails!
We finally found a stain removing spray and after I used it all, the stain disappeared and so did my tantrum.
Gucci relaxed and Whisky stopped trying to lick my tears away.
Gucci and Whisky gambling
That night we went to the Casino of Monte Carlo because Gucci was teasing Whisky about him already been in there when he was only 6 months old. We hid them in the dog bags because we were sure the Casino was not pet-friendly.
We are not gamblers, he just wanted to see all that Ferraris and Lamborghinis parked in the front and I wanted to see glamorous dresses on beautiful people, as I remember I saw when I was a teenager.
The Ferraris were parked in the front of the Casino as always, but I was disappointed by seeing just some ugly, old men accompanied by some cheap-looking teenage prostitutes and five Croatian gangsters leaving the Casino, inviting them (hookers, not the old men) to their boat.
When I was here for the first time I remember being fascinated by beautiful, glamorous people mingling around.
I suppose I grew up, I didn't manage to see anything glamorous this time. People looked less pretty and less perfect. I felt sorry for all of them, especially for the girls in vulgar-sexy dresses with sad, vitreous looks in their eyes.
We were happy to leave the miserable, rich (wannabe) people. They look much nicer from the distance when you're looking at their luxurious yachts from the coast. You don't see their eyes from the coast.