"Whose brilliant idea was it to go to Monaco?"

By Rosebud -
Or:  in which we discover that God's timing is lousy yet perfect.

We thought it would be fun, since we were so very close to Monaco, to be able to say, "I've been to Monaco"  Not many people can say that.  It's kind of cool.  Plus, since we had to pick up one car in France and other in Italy, it gave us a place to meet the taxi which would take Steven across the border to the Genoa airport.  (Two cars is a mess.)

Unfortunately, Nice traffic is not so nice.  First off, since Steven and two kids are heading off in a taxi, we put aaaaaaall the luggage in our minivan.  Which already has no room, so there isn't a square inch of space to move.  And you know how each car has it's own certain touch?  That goes double with a manual transmission.  So let's point out:  new car, construction traffic, lanes that are "more like guidelines", seven years since I've driven stick (with the same movement that you had to use to change gears on our last car now being the movement to switch to reverse)  and a car that thinks it's smarter than I.  And randomly beeps whenever it thinks something is too close to me.  Like every. single. car. in. Nice.

I have no pictures of this, unfortunately.  The visual of me slowly losing my mind would be a good one.  

The drive was grey and drizzly, but not too bad.  And then we reached Monaco.

Imagine this whole city built on a hill, with every street lane "guidelined" and almost all of the streets between 10 and 14 degree incline.  Now remember that previous run-on sentence about manual transmission?  Oh my, I thought I would die.  Or strangle someone.  Or cry a lot.  I did a bit of all.  But mostly a lot of killing the engine.  

And two cars.  Right.  So......trying to climb up these walkways in the drizzle
And not being able to reach my husband on the phone.  However, constantly being able to reach his taxi driver.  Who wants to know where they should meet up.  At which point I want to tell him "I don't even know where *I* should meet him, what the heck do I care about you?" We let my parents hang out at a Monaco-ian piazza and drink coffee while we went searching for the other travelers. 

We did find them at about the same time as the taxi driver did.   

I hate having two cars.  Or, at this point, NOT having two cars.  

However, the day was filled with a lot of good photo ops.  



And now we can say, "I've been to Monaco."  

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