Some days, things just don’t go as planned. That day was today.

Charles reserved a rental car for us so that he could drive it around the track in Monaco, which they usually allow each day after the race activities have ended. We slept in a little later this morning, then headed to the train station where the rental car office is located, planning to spend a couple of hours in Eze and then head on to Monaco. We stopped at a bakery on the way and picked up some muffins/scones for breakfast.

There was not much room in the rental car office, so I waited outside for what felt like an eternity. I watched Charles through the window, waiting in line. He finally made it to the counter and was there for quite a while – then came out frowning. Apparently, we had arrived an hour early and would either have to wait around for an hour or pay a few hundred extra euros, which would make a car that was previously unavailable for the next hour just magically become available. Unfortunately, the hour delay meant that we would need to skip Eze for today. The agent would not even let him complete the paperwork to get it out of the way for when the car became available. SO we went to the cafe across the street and Charles had second breakfast and I had a cup of coffee. This actually worked out well for me, as it provided access to a clean restroom with a toilet that had a seat, toilet paper, and soap. Spend a week in France and you’ll see why this is a big deal.

After an hour, we returned to pick up our rental car. I’m easily overwhelmed at the prospect of driving in new places anyway, let alone in a country with traffic patterns and traffic symbols that are very different from ours. In the South of France, lane markers are mere suggestions… suggestions that don’t seem to be followed often, especially by motorcyclists who ride on the lane markers between the lanes of traffic. Particularly puzzling for us was how far back in the intersection the stop lights are situated. In the US, we are used to stop lights being located on the far side of the intersection above the cars on the opposite side. In France, they are low and located before the intersection. This is actually very clever, as it forces the driver to stop before the crosswalk, since you can’t see the traffic signal if you’ve pulled out over the crosswalk (more on this later). All of this confusion was compounded by a French-speaking navigation system that gave us instructions we couldn’t understand. Nevertheless, we made it to Monaco, with Charles seeming much less stressed in the driver’s seat than I was on his behalf from the passenger’s seat.

We found a parking garage and parked so that we could walk around near the track and check out the casino. We had a difficult time finding our way to the Monte Carlo, since it’s located IN the track and there are just a few places that help you get from the outside of the track to the inside. Eventually, we found our way to the casino and went in to check out the lobby. Since I’d already gambled and lost this week by making my purse too easily accessible to the pick pockets, I was loathe to place any bets. Charles was not overly eager either, so we admired the grandeur of the lobby and took advantage of the clean restroom with a toilet that had a seat, toilet paper, and soap. (It’s tempting to make a joke here about how most people would visit the Monte Carlo to play craps… but that would be crass.)

We ate lunch in Cafe Paris and killed some time until the track opened up so that we could walk around more. To Charles’ delight, we were able to walk around the entire track. To my delight, I was able to walk the track with a cold beer in my hand. Unfortunately, we forgot our tickets from yesterday at the apartment, so were unable to get into the pit lane expo. It looked pretty crowded, anyway… After we made our lap, we went back for the car to make a lap in the car. Unfortunately, we were only able to drive a small portion of it and the rest was blocked to cars. Charles got to drive through the hair pin turn, though – so I think he is pleased.

We programmed the navigator to take us back to Nice and started the drive home. There was quite a bit of car traffic, made worse by quite a bit of pedestrian traffic (running over into areas that would normally be designated for car traffic). I helped Charles watch for a gap at a particular intersection so he could turn left. We found just such a gap and took it – only to come face-to-face with a scowling police officer who asked us facetiously (first in French, then in English) if we hadn’t seen the stop light. We had, of course, not seen the stop light, as it was not located where we expect stop lights to be located. Fortunately, she let us off with a warning and told us to pay better attention.

Back on the road, our French navigator failed to effectively notify us which lane we needed in a timely manner on several occasions, so we made a few wrong turns before finally giving in and using The Google on my cell phone. The Google always has our back.

Eventually, we found a parking garage in our neighborhood, made our way back to the apartment, and then back out for sunset dinner on the beach and our evening gelato fix. Tonight’s flavors of lavender and chocolate-hazelnut were a marked improvement over the beer and chocolate mint flavors from last night (inspired by Ben telling me at some point that he liked Thin Mint girl scout cookies with beer).