Plus de Monte Carlo

I’m not much into car racing of any sort, and as an American from the Midwest who has been exposed to far too much Nascar in my day (no offense Mom and Aunt Julie!), I’m not going to pretend that I was pumped when Jon and I first started dating and I found out that he doesn’t like any sports…but he loves Formula One, the European equivalent of the sport of Bud drinking Nascar fans everywhere. Or so I thought. Turns out, F1 isn’t so bad, and in my opinion (biased as it may be at this point, due to just giving in) is made more interesting by the fact that the races are held all over the world and have different tracks. No going in simple circles for F1-no sir, there are actual courses that run through towns/cities/farm land, around curves and up hills. Awesome. It’s like those sweet arcade games that used to exist (maybe still do?) where you pick your course and drive around, avoiding people and dogs and hot dog stands. In my mind, anyway. The point of this whole story is that Monte Carlo is home to its own F1 course, which had my dude quite excited. So excited, in fact, that we walked the track by foot ourselves on our second day there. Don’t worry-it wasn’t so bad. Only a mile or so. But seeing it up close and personal and knowing that guys drive their fancy cars at over 200 mph around these narrow, very steep at times roads was mind-blowing. I’m actually looking forward to seeing the Monaco Grand Prix next year because of this!

Wooo hairpin turn!

They drive through this tiny tunnel!

Walking the course made me hungry. So we stopped for gelato.

…and eventually stopped for dinner too. I decided to go hard-escargot for an appetizer, than the catch of the day, sea bass, for the main course. It.was.so.good. Jon was jealous, as his pasta wasn’t nearly as delish.

wrasslin’ with snails

and looking like i’m in love with that fish.

The view was pretty fabulous-we could watch rich folk drive their ridiculous cars in laps around the main strip, which is apparently a thing they do? Also, more boats.

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