Cannes

Saurday morning I boarded a TGV train in Marseille bound for Cannes. We spent two hours traversing the picturesque coastline that wound its way along the French Riviera. Without looking at my watch I became acutely aware we were getting close as the homes started to get bigger and more impressive. After almost two hours, we arrive in central Cannes.

Cannes is like a poor man’s Monaco. Granted, it’s still out of reach for the majority of people. But it is more attainable; if only a fraction. In the couple of hours I spent in Cannes I only saw one Maserati and Bentley where as in Monaco that is something you see every 5 minutes. Also the yachts were smaller. In Monaco they are 200 feet in length and the ones lining Cannes’ harbour were only 170 feet long. Definitely a poor man’s Monaco.

It would take considerable effort to take a bad photograph in Cannes. The scenery is perfect, the buildings are all in immaculate condition and people are beautiful.

It was the early afternoon and I had a few hours to look around before I needed to make my way to the port. As reasonably priced accommodations are a rarity in Cannes, I found a “hostel” on one of the two islands that sit just off the coast. I had a reservation on the last ferry of the day which left at 5:30pm. So I parked my luggage in a locker at the train station and set off to experience Cannes.

To get to the beach and shore I had to walk through the shopping district. I had been craving sushi for some time so when I passed a sushi take-out restaurant I popped in to see their selection. It looked tempting and fresh so I grabbed a box with an assortment. In their drink section I was stunned to see they sold mini cans of wine! I decided to try a rose and set out to find a place to sit down and eat.

I walked down to the shore and immediately found myself by the famous Palais des Festivals et des Congrès where the Cannes International Film Festival takes place. It was a large building dominating the space where the beach ends and the yacht docks begin.

I made my way around the harbour to the base of the old town. In a small park I found myself with another massive stretch of beach in front of me that stretched as far as the eye could see back toward Marseille. I sat under a palm tree and enjoyed my sushi lunch and canned rose wine.

I walked along a snaking road that inched its way up the hill that old Cannes is built upon. Along the way I passed perfect little houses perched on the hill in a manner that let each one take advantage of the vistas. The top of the hill boasted the Notre Dame d’Esperance and castle. I didn’t go through the museum or even really take in much of the grounds. I was more taken by the view out over the city, the surrounding hills and the two islands off the coast; one of which would be home to me for the night.

The hill was covered in homes and I found a series of steps and paths which allowed pedestrians to navigate their way down and between the houses. This was the way many of the local residents accessed their homes and they seemed to take a lot of pride in keeping the promenade beautiful with flowers and plants. The climate along the Med really favours intoxicating colours as all the flowers seemed to be more vibrant and bold than what I am used to.

I walked along the main shopping street which was also a pedestrian thoroughfare. I had already had lunch, so I wasn’t hungry, but the prepared foods in the windows of the delicatessens and cafes was tempting. I was lured over to a shop window which had an amazing assortment of dishes ranging from osso buco to salmon wellington. What I found so alarming were the prices; almost everything in this shop’s window was selling for €40 - €60 per kilo.

I made my way over to the beach promenade that spans the whole front shore of Cannes. The opposite side of the road was lined with luxurious hotels and fancy restaurants. I really enjoyed what I saw of Cannes, however, seeing all the people frolicking on the beach triggered my desire to jump in the water as I had the previous two days.

I returned to the train station to retrieve my bags and headed to the ferry port. I was an hour early however they still allowed me to head over to my prison island. The island of Sainte Marguerite sits a kilometre off the coast. The majority of the island is covered in pine and eucalyptus trees with a network of paths leading all over. Apart from the staff (and guests) within the fort, the owners of a restaurant and 2 resident firemen; the island is uninhabited.

During the day it’s teaming with people who come to see the fort, two museums, walk the trails and swim off the beaches and rocky shores that encircle the island. The island is a wealth of history. The fort was built between 1635 and 1637 by the Spanish during the 30 year war. After they were defeated, the French fortified it further and it became a prison through to the 20^th century. One of the most famous inhabitants was the man in the iron mask.

As the ferry approached the island the fort (which faces Cannes) came clearly into view. The lush green of the island looked welcoming as we weaved between the mega-yachts that sat offshore.

I found this island and accommodation on the HostelWorld website. However, to call it a ‘hostel’ would be doing it an incredible injustice. I am quite sure this will end up being my favourite accommodation on the trip. Not because of the amenities or the comfort, but due to the atmosphere, ambience and experience.

I ambled up the hill from the dock to the fort. This was one of the only paved pathways on the island and it led me to the massive wooden entry door. Inside the path turned to large cobbled stones and gravel. The old stone buildings stood where they had been built 400 years ago. In the centre of the fort was an informal square with a now disused well. All the buildings looked similar with many unmarked doors and shuttered windows. A woman popped out of one of the doorways and greeted me. She led me inside to the ‘hostel’ office which was surprisingly modern. I was then led toward one of the two storey buildings, to the top floor and into my room. I had a three bed dorm, although I was the only occupant. To increase my comfort I grabbed the pillows off the other two beds. My window looked down on the centre of the fort with a view of the large green that led toward a corner of the fortified area.

Most of the buildings in the centre of the fort were in great repair. Outside they looked untouched by time, but inside the walls were plastered and painted. Exposed wooden beams lined the ceiling and all the doors were made from heavy wood with large iron hinges and latches.

I was one of only two independent travellers staying this particular evening. The rest of the facility was dominated by a Zen group who walked around in white robes stretching and acting generally peaceful. This fort was laid out in a way that encouraged communal living and that became the ethos of the people who now run it. I immediately loved it.

After dropping off my bags I set out to explore. From the top of the fort the view down on the rocky beaches was fantastic with Cannes as a backdrop and the hills disappearing onto the horizon beyond that. I walked down to a quiet stretch of beach beyond the other bathers, the people renting kayaks and sail boats and toward the wildlife refuge. An area of the island was cordoned off and I found a place to glimpse beyond the flowering bushes. I saw a small lake and within it was a tiny island for birds. I found this to be quite amusing; an island within an island.

I did the same thing I had taken such pleasure in doing the previous two days; I followed small fish through the shallows off the coast. Unfortunately, it was getting late in the afternoon and dinner was to be served in an hour’s time.

I came back to shower and get ready for supper. One of the nondescript buildings had a hotel-sized kitchen inside and we entered through a door, grabbed a tray of food, and retired to rows upon rows of picnic tables in the green under the shade of trees. There were easily 200 people and we all ate together as a group.

We gorged on a couscous and tuna salad with tomatoes and a heaping plate of pasta, marinated chicken and green beans. Wine cost extra, but the girl who checked me in felt sorry for me and poured me a half litre of rose and told me to go off and make some new friends. As it happens I sat down next to the one and only other independent traveller who happened to be a retired teacher from Quebec.

By looking at my surrounds it seemed as if I had stepped back in time hundreds of years. More importantly, that is how it felt. After each of us ate, we cleared the tables and returned everything to the kitchen area. There wasn’t much in the way of staff and everyone staying here was encouraged to do their part. I loved it; it was like being part of an ancient community.

I was so full after dinner I wanted to go for a walk. There would be light for at least another hour, however the big gates were already closed which, in effect, locked us in. I found my friend and asked her if I could go out. She gave me her key and showed me a smaller door (less daunting than a massive fort gate) the staff used.

I walked down a trail through the forest to the sound of the birds humming. Occasionally I came across breaks in the trees where I could see the mega yachts bobbing in the evening waters a hundred metres offshore. I saw people BBQing their dinners and others sitting on the decks of their boats laughing and enjoying themselves. I turned to walk toward the shore facing the open water and saw the other small island. In the inlet between the two were more boats and other than those people, I was totally alone. I didn’t see another sole on the island (as there really weren’t many people here other than those in the fort). For the first time in a long time I felt totally alone and I enjoyed the peace. Through the trees I saw the sun setting and the nocturnal wildlife on the island started making themselves known. After an hour I returned and stood on a deck at the highest point in the fort watching the glimmering lights of Cannes. Many of the Zen people had the same thought and we all stood in silence admiring the quietness of the warm evening.

My island experience was extremely peaceful and I regret I only planned 1 night there. Had I known, I easily would have cut short my Marseille stay. But I guess that is one of the best parts of doing a trip like this; I get to find gems like this that require a return trip in the future.

The next morning I gathered my breakfast and returned to the deck where I had been gazing the night before. I ate while taking in the morning sun and was alone apart from one of the Zen Masters who was there doing his morning stretches.

I packed up and reluctantly left to catch my ferry. I arrived back in Cannes port and made my way to the train station where I met up with dad and Marie for the day.

We walked through the Cannes market. I had been there the previous day and it was vacant; wholly empty. Now, it was teeming with vendors selling fruit and vegetables in the brightest colours, flowers that filled the air with a joyous floral scent and people selling cheeses and prepared foods.

I took them up the hill I had walked down from the castle to show them the stairs and corridors that snaked up the hill and from which the locals access their homes. They too were taken with the charm and for them this was their whole Cannes experience.

We drove to their hotel which sat in a cove along the Riviera about a half hour outside of Nice. As soon as we turned onto the street where they were staying I recognized the location. On my trip in 2007 I had rented a scooter and spent a day exploring this coast. I stopped at the very beach across the road from their hotel to take a dip. Now, here we were three years later having lunch and then lounging on this very same beach.

In fact, to be more precise, I lounged on the small public beach. We lounged on one of the two private beaches; the less exclusive of the two. It was perfectly fine and I saw little difference between the two private beaches apart from the prices at their respective restaurants. The other private beach offered valet parking which was a novel concept; one which obviously appealed to the Bentley, Lamborghini and multiple Porsche owners whose vehicles were lined up at the entrance.

From the beach there was a path that negotiated the shore from above and offered some wonderful access to places that would otherwise be inaccessible. Marie and I walked for a bit while dad sat on the beach and had an afternoon kip.

I took in my (now) standard afternoon activity; I swam and watched the fish. It was a great relaxing day together and my last in France.

They drove me to the Nice airport where I checked in and they left. I went through security and started watching the board. I got a little nervous by the constant announcement over the speakers and the fact many flights were delayed and/or cancelled. I spoke to someone who told me the air traffic controllers had gone on strike. Why not? This is France after all.

I sat watching the board and waited anxiously.

By the time we finally did board we had only been delayed by an hour. As we were getting seated the pilot came on the speaker and urged us to hurry as we only had a small window of opportunity or we would miss our turn. When the plane finally left the gate I swear I heard the sound of him spinning his wheels. I felt a huge sigh of relief when the plane left the ground. It's a good thing too because I didn't have a plan B.

Next stop: Amalfi and Capri