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nice times
Jul. 15th, 2003 01:11 amRented a fleet of sporty volkswagens (turbodiesel golfs, fresh off the dealer's lot) and hit the French autoroutes at 160 kph, Wish You Were Here on the stereo and a flock of gorgeous women in tow. The next morning we arrive at the French Riviera, the mediterranian coast, Cote d'Azur. yes, life is good. welcome to camp CERN.
camped in, of all places, a gravel pit, amongst some mini-alps. I'm sorry. fortunately for most the novelty exceeded the discomfort, and, as for me, I believe I can sleep through or on anything. Nice. What can I say but we went to the beach. Had a dinner with a crazed french waiter (seems to be the theme) just across the street from the hostel. Old town in the morning, met girls from UCLA (saw my BART-ticket shirt), drove to Monte-Carlo (principality of Monaco) and poked into the Casino, admired the statues of commonpeople. to Cannes, to the beach again, warm nights on high bluffs watching the searchlights. soaking in the `med until late in the evening. Tried to meet up with Kristina but she was off to Paris, apartment subletted. Nice to me was an odd combination of Tel Aviv and old Europe. Old city streets, close alleys. Vibrant palmtrees in the gardens, hot humid air and slow atmosphere. Sleeping without sheets. This is a weekend getaway.
Driving home, run into the Tour de France. High speed through the mountains, through the french nationalparks. Down to the autoroute, one hundred eighty k-p-h, throwing euros into the tollplazas, Nirvana on the stereo, Liz navigating and Shannon sleeping on Chan's lap (aww, how cute). Return to Geneva with fifteen minutes to spair, one thousand one hundred kilometers on the odometer. Bastille day in Ferney-Voltaire (load up the Berlingo), fireworks and funny french dancing to accordians and trumpets.
Kenny2 and Michelle are in Paris. Chris made it to Rome. Robin's got a cold. On this trip were me, Chan, Martina, Molly, Liz, Shannon, Ken, Ken's two friends, Abram, Abby, and Moira.
camped in, of all places, a gravel pit, amongst some mini-alps. I'm sorry. fortunately for most the novelty exceeded the discomfort, and, as for me, I believe I can sleep through or on anything. Nice. What can I say but we went to the beach. Had a dinner with a crazed french waiter (seems to be the theme) just across the street from the hostel. Old town in the morning, met girls from UCLA (saw my BART-ticket shirt), drove to Monte-Carlo (principality of Monaco) and poked into the Casino, admired the statues of commonpeople. to Cannes, to the beach again, warm nights on high bluffs watching the searchlights. soaking in the `med until late in the evening. Tried to meet up with Kristina but she was off to Paris, apartment subletted. Nice to me was an odd combination of Tel Aviv and old Europe. Old city streets, close alleys. Vibrant palmtrees in the gardens, hot humid air and slow atmosphere. Sleeping without sheets. This is a weekend getaway.
Driving home, run into the Tour de France. High speed through the mountains, through the french nationalparks. Down to the autoroute, one hundred eighty k-p-h, throwing euros into the tollplazas, Nirvana on the stereo, Liz navigating and Shannon sleeping on Chan's lap (aww, how cute). Return to Geneva with fifteen minutes to spair, one thousand one hundred kilometers on the odometer. Bastille day in Ferney-Voltaire (load up the Berlingo), fireworks and funny french dancing to accordians and trumpets.
Kenny2 and Michelle are in Paris. Chris made it to Rome. Robin's got a cold. On this trip were me, Chan, Martina, Molly, Liz, Shannon, Ken, Ken's two friends, Abram, Abby, and Moira.
