Vacations - Borny Style

My parents believed in the work hard-play hard philosophy. Over the years, we have been in some incredible vacations. If it's worth doing, it is worth doing well. When we went on vacation, my parents went all out. My mom always says, "When I am on vacation, I rather spend a week in luxury, then two weeks watching what I'm spending."

The view from our hotel room

One of the greatest vacation memories I have was going to the Baleares, a group of small islands in the Mediterranean Sea, off the coast of Spain. My mom's brother lived there at the time.

We stayed at the Hotel Valparaiso, a 5-star hotel with all the luxuries you can think of. During that week there, we traveled around the island. I remember the paëlla, the roasted piglet, the furry belt that my parents bought me and the many hats that I brought back.

I also remember trying to go swimming in the sea. I say "trying" because having been raised in Monaco, I would run to the edge to the water and take a leaping dive into water that is over your head only a couple of feet from the shore. In Majorca, that is not the case. I ran to the edge of the water, as I would in Monaco, and dove, only to find myself with a mouth full of sand. You see in Majorca, you have to walk two or three hundred feet from the shore before the water gets deep enough to dive in.

Another vacation spot was St-Tropez. Even though we lived in Monaco, itself on the Côte d'Azur, my parent and I went to a beach resort in St- Tropez. The name was Maxxim or something like that, I don't quite remember.

I do remember the swimming pool, the beach and cruising the street by the beach.

One other thing I remember...

Mom was sitting in the passenger seat, Dad was driving, I was in the back. The cool sea breeze kept the temperature comfortable. The car windows were open as we gently cruised the street in front of the beach. It was a glorious day. The sun was shinning bright. The people were leisurely walking around. No one was in a hurry. A lady crossing the street was in the median. As my father slowly approached her, he reached through the open window and pinched the lady on the derriere as if it was completely naturally. The lady turned around to look at my dad and slowly finished crossing the street.

Different mentality in the South of France than any other place in the world.

It reminds me of a story by a French comedian, René Cousinier:

A lady, standing in the bus in Marseille, turns to the gentleman next to her and says: "Sir, you have been pinching my hinny for the past 15 minutes." To which the man replied: "What's wrong? Don't you like it anymore?"

He also mentions that a pretty ladies hinny is sad in Marseille if it gets less that one pinch every 15 minutes.