More different worlds

In a week I’ve gone from the middle of nowhere in snowy Sweden to Cannes, France, on the French Riviera.

My first impression of Cannes is heavy traffic, too much development, too many ugly buildings crammed into too small a space, and 4 Euros if you dare to drink one of the Cokes from the hotel room mini-bar.

The hotel where we are staying seems tired – like something built in the 1950’s and with the exception of the lobby, never updated. My room has one of the oldest radios I’ve ever seen. Why it is still there, since it doesn’t even work, is a mystery.

I try to remind myself that this is the home of the Cannes Film Festival, and in summer a destination for the rich and famous. Yet it feels to me like the overdeveloped oceanfront in Florida. It amazes me that we ruin a place like this with development. The very thing that draws us here – the ocean and the beautiful surroundings – is spoiled by the development.

I decide to go walk to find something to eat. Walking along the seaside promenade, the sunset across the bay and over the hills is gorgeous. I now have a sense of why people are attracted to this place. The water, even in February, has patches of blueness so brilliant it almost seems artificial.


I stop for dinner at a restaurant along the waterfront. The recent trip to Copenhagen has prepared me well for the shocking price of eating.

This week there is huge event in Cannes – a meeting of heads of state from a group of African nations. There are police everywhere – in cars, on foot, on motorcycles (BMWs), on mountain bikes. The street along the seaside is lined with barriers. On the way to and from dinner I walk past a line of diplomats’ cars that goes on for half a mile. There are drivers and what I assume are security guards all milling around, smoking, chatting, and talking on cell phones. I wonder, what is the ‘shop talk’ among diplomats’ security guards?