le train de pensées (the train of thoughts)

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Act I, Scene 1
Monte Carlo, Monaco

She was sitting all by herself, as lull as the wooden bench she sat upon, while the world went by. It was the busiest corner of Monaco – garden overlooking the grand casino. The pigeons frolicked around, incongruous of her intent gaze which had infinite sadness ! He slowed down his pace, wondering what was wrong with the lady on the only bench in park. Had he known french and been more gregarious, he would have chatted casually, but nien !
He quickly concluded that the high, fast pace life of this part of the world had its own victims. The septuagenarian walked slowly across the road for the chihuahua was not helping.It wanted to smell some litter and the old chap dragged him forward mocking his strength. As he was jotting it down, it occurred to him why there were so many old folks with pets ? Other than the ‘purse keeping’ the pet was in vogue and unè fashion statemente

Act 1, Scene 2
Train to Nice

La belle on his right was fervently playing with the squashed cigarette, she would take out mirror frequently and adjusted some feature of her visage that probably she thought was inadequately worked upon. She continued fidgeting with the tobacco stick, and rushed with a force as train came to halt in “nice-riquer”. Smokers often have a limited chalance for anything when they are seized by insatiable desire for Nicotine
The train continued its journey parallel to ‘the azur coast’. The empty seat was taken by the young couple, the boy looked in mid twenties and was holding the stick, probably a sports’ injury, and his girlfriend failing to find any empty seat happily sat on his lap. the couple was happy as couples in love are, they laughed , they kissed and joked around , there was a general bon homie around.
The writers attention shifted to his nearly dead legs, with all the walking and that too in hiking boots , which he had proudly purchased once his old faithful Caterpillars  gave away, after five years of service. To say that he was sad, losing them, would be an understatement. Yet he was at peace with his new palladiums, well enough of materialistic divulge. Coming to Côte d’Azur had rekindled the lost writer in him , seeing the french culture experiencing their mannerisms, idiosyncrasies , he had ample stuff to jot about (and probably that’s why Anurag kashyap came to France to finish his script for GOW-2).

Act 1, Scene 3
Protagonist Mind
-“But milord that was Paris , the writer here in question didn’t even want to go to Paris and instead resorted to staying in French Riviera , as English would have said”
– Sustained ! Do you have anything to refute that
– Yes , milord ! Isn’t Paris clichéd
– but that’s like jumping to preconceived conclusion . Camus wrote in Paris , so did miller and others writer that you swore to ??
– yeah may be , but given the short duration and his agnosticism to urban landscapes …
And for the same reason he didn’t like Monaco it was like urban
– or he felt like bourgeois there ?
– may be , but the fact remains same, he would have ..

Did Antibes passed by !!! Fuck !!
There was adrenaline flashing on a distant building in neon lights and it wasn’t antibes , inot or valentine-louset-place. Something French.

 

PS : I hope readers will ignore the not-so-pathetic titular attempt of luring French crowd.

 

Cote d’azur – Part I


Although I am not aiming this blog to be a travel blog, yet there are already quite a few travel posts so heck with it. Let logic prevail.
Bonjour !
So lets start with …hmmm…either I stick to Asia or move across seas to azur water of Mediterranean. Chronologically Asia should come first but heck !!

  • Marseille aeroport

omitted…

  • La Ciotat

To be covered later …

  • Cannes 

Nay I did not cover Cannes (!!), for obvious commercial reasons.

– Show me French countryside, I had enough of urban landscapes in Asia.

But then manged to send a cinephile friend a postcard, talk of vicarious deeds…

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  • Antibes

Actually I did not expect, Antibes (pronounced Awn-teeb) to be that much of touristy affair, but surprisingly it was. Old Antibes, yeah there is always an old city in French riviera. And still I am still rationalizing that why I skipped Musee Picasso. #Laments
Frankly speaking,( umm writing) I was lying around on my fat ass, chatting around, sipping wine, relishing rava idle (!!)  for the hospitality was great, I ain’t complaining.

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  • Juan les Pins

Pronounced (Joo-Ahn … Not Juan). Even this will fall under great hospitality, but me and AOE fan managed around the old city in a car. But the beach was awesome, and stony, and windy, and panoramic and with possibility of scuba diving,  the last part ‘died a wet death’, time was not very keen on waiting for me.

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Ohh it had a library named after Albert Camus.

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  • Nice 

Well to sum it up, Nice was nice 😉
I was beginning to see the pattern for cote d’azur. There is impossible blue Mediterranean, a high vantage point, chateau de Nice in this case, and then the major tourist attraction, the old city !!
the coastline was pretty pretty (okay…no more stupid wordplays), and yeah how could I miss that french cuisine. And today even after 3 weeks of gorging, binging and gluttony, if I managed to loose weight, its worth mentioning isnt it ?
there was this Socca, italian dish which was huile d’olive version of desi besan ka chila, which by the way was sunday special dish during school days. And then these folks made me eat Lebanese, not that I am lamenting for there was awesome poulet___, viva la chicken !!

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