Nice Nice

Posted by Ben on May 22, 2010 in updates | 3 comments

I have to start making a bigger effort with these blogs. They’re getting harder to write. Not because I don’t enjoy writing them, but because I’m being backlogged with so many other stories since I returned to London that I’m beginning to forget details from Europe.

On our way to the French Riviera we stopped off at a local perfumery – I hated it.

I don’t have a lot to tell here because I walked in the door, walked into the room where they crush whatever it is they do to make perfumes and walked straight back out. I’ll tell you what, it awakened the senses, my eyes were stinging, my nose was running and my throat was burning. It was like being trapped in an isolation chamber with Donal after twelve cans of chilli con carne (I grabbed this metaphor because I’m looking at tinned chilli for twelve pence a tin we bought from ASDA (which is like ALDI) – a story for another time).

Anyway, to cut this story short, I spent the entire time outside with a few others who were struggling too, so we sat back in the sunshine and overlooked the Mediterranean. Which I think was a better choice anyway just quietly. Don’t you?

After people had picked up their samples and goodie bags, we got back on the bus and made our way to nice little Nice where we checked into what looked like a five star hotel, or three – I don’t really know to be honest. I just know it was the nicest place we had stayed so far because you actually had room to manoeuvre. So we made use of it – the four other blokes and I spent half hour doing some push ups and dips and sit ups in our shorts – far out this trip sounds queer.

This is where I struggle to find detail until we made base in a club later in the night, but I know we went on a small pub crawl. We got to Nice quite late, so we all showered and made our way to a French restaurant for dinner. It was great food, I remember eating a gourmet salad as a starter, beef burgeon in a red sauce, small potatoes and green beans along with copious amounts of bread and red wine, followed by profiteroles (not bad for someone who can’t remember a whole lot of detail huh? – it’s coming back as I type). The red wine was around two Euros a bottle so we got pretty inebriated at dinner by 8pm. I would get some of this if I were you, if you wanna go cheap – buy some wine and drink it before you go out.

From here we followed Rob, our tour guide, to a local pub where a few of the UEFA Champions League matches were being played. It was great, I think Manchester United were playing Lyon (which as most of you will know is in France), so I was the only chap going for an English team and people didn’t like it. I could feel the fire on my neck so before the game was over, I left quick smart because Man Utd were going to win. I found my way to a nightclub where everyone else was somehow already SMASHED.

Now Cassie, Bre, Lauren – if you’re reading this I’m gonna need your help remembering what those shots were called because I can’t remember for more than one reason. Either way, after some bombs, vodkas, Guinness, beers, these shots I can’t remember etc. We were all dancing on tables to great live music – a band I can’t remember the name of, but were really energetic and fun.

I remember two funny stories from the night – the first one was me meeting some other American girls who were super good looking and were a least worthy of a crack. Unfortunately after much effort, which I must admit a lot of what I thought was keen behaviour on their behalf – turned out to be a kick in the teeth. This could have been literal if I hadn’t backed away as quickly as I did. I had noticed, even intoxicated that the bar staff and more attentively, the security knew this girl I was talking to by name. AND they weren’t just calling her (for names sake) Tara, they were calling her “Mrs. Smith”. *Alarm Bells* ringing, I thought I’d ask the question. “How come all these guys know you?” – I thought she may have been a high end hooker at this time. Turned out this lady was the club owner’s new wife. The end, good bye, See ya later! I wasn’t messing with some rich French dudes (who owns a club and is probably in the French mafia) wife.

I saw her a couple of times later in the night peripherally but I pretended we had never met in our lives, the cameras were around somewhere – or at least I thought they were.

God knowing what time it was, everyone was going nuts on these long wooden tables. It was like a sauna in there too, no air flow what so ever, but it was fantastic. I got into trouble that night, but I don’t remember what for. Does anyone else?

Now pretend I have an old cassette player in my hand and we are standing next to one another. I quickly press the rewind button and everything around us goes zooming back to around 9pm. My past self is standing at the bar with Alex Hunnibell and we are only slightly drunk at this stage. Here is what we hear:

Ben: “So mate, what’ll it be?”

Hunnibell: “Ah nothing for me mate! That wine did me, gonna have a couple beers and that’s that.”

Ben: “Nah, bullshit – just do a tequila with me, my shout.”

Hunnibell: “Alright buddy, one shot…”

Now the Ben holding the cassette player presses the fast forward button and we go right back to where we were a few minutes ago.

Alex Hunnibell is nowhere to be seen.

The night continues on with major carnage to the organs. We leave the club and begin to walk home, where we have an offer of ‘kif’ (which is marijuana in Europe) from some European blokes on the street, Donal pushing some guy into a fountain with all his clothes on because he was dared to, and of course a late night kebab.

Seven ‘o’ clock the next morning I wake up and squint around, all the guys are dead to the world and Hunnibell’s bed is empty – Uh oh! I’ve been responsible for his death. Why didn’t I just let him go home when he said he was going to?

To my utmost relieve, Hunnibell comes into the room at 8am totalled with one shoe on and no shirt, climbs into bed and goes to sleep. Later on I find out that he decided to take a dip in the Mediterranean at five ‘o’ clock in the morning – nude and yes – he apparently almost drowned. Now there are photos of him lying on a pebble beach passed out in his undies at five in the morning and it’s THE funniest photo I’ve ever seen in my life. Writing this now I am laughing out loud.

I promise you – one way or another I will eventually get these photos up on my site and make one of them my display picture to this blog.

The benders were really beginning to take effect, so I decided to take a leaf out of Hunnibell’s book and go for a dip with Rich and Boston Rob in the Sea. It was really, really cold. Some of the coldest water I had swum in. People were rugged up in jackets and here were three idiot tourists swimming in the Sea. They loved it though, there was a crowd and they were laughing and staring. After all, we were probably the only three people swimming in the Mediterranean at that point in time, or I’d like to think so – it’s a pretty cool thought.

At least for you, the water will be a little more bearable, but the pebbles suck – it’s nothing like our great Australian beaches, like Manly – Haha.

After this we went and bought more food – pizzas and coke (coca-cola) with Hunnibell trailing behind, looking like a sight for sore eyes. He couldn’t even lift his head – I felt bad in a way, but he had ruined me two nights running, so as far as I was concerned, we were now even.

From the swim and the pizza I was right as rain and ready for anything.

That night it was on to Monaco and more specifically – the Monte Carlo Casinos! I was puummmped…

Now Monaco is actually considered its own country, I think it’s the second smallest country in the world behind The Vatican. It’s not surprising why these two countries can call themselves such; they are both of incomprehensible wealth. Monaco has its own monachal system with Prince Albert II as head of state. It is such a powerful country that people like Arnold Schwarzenegger have been refused residency .The views over the Mediterranean were unbelievable and the wealth of the place was apparent just from the gardens and building structures.

Most of the country’s wealth comes from their casinos, which is where we were heading for the night. I took up temporary residency in the Sun Casino where most of the minimum bets were five Euros. The other casinos up the top of the hill such as the Grand Casino were more like twenty-five or thirty Euro minimum bet. I’ll come to this in a minute.

To put it bluntly, I played roulette and blackjack and lost about a hundred Euros which I didn’t have to lose in about twenty minutes. I was actually up at one stage, but like any other gambling on the planet I walked out a loser, as did ninety-nine percent of the other people on the bus.

I was kinda shattered with the night’s events, and I certainly didn’t have any more money to blow on alcohol or gambling so I decided to just have a chilled night (which I needed) and walk around and have a look. As I was saying before, the place was just crazy, with no word of a lie, every single car was beautiful. From Ferrari’s to Lambo’s to you name it. The women were young and gorgeous all walking around with their arm attached to some old dude who was obviously paying for them. I think it’s safe to say that I won’t be going back there anytime soon, it was just too damn expensive. I remember Boston Rob bought a coke and it cost him around ten Euros!

Soon after we all went home and just climbed into bed, it was still around midnight if I remember correctly, but I was just happy to be giving my body a bit of a break. After all it was onto wine country for the next week – Italy, and man have I got some stories for you!