The A-Z of My Favorite Travel Destinations — Cote d’Azur, France

French Riviera on the 4th of July, rubbing elbows with two Ambassadors. Letter “C” of the alphabet challenge.

The A-Z travel challenge was started by Sam Millichap with Adrienne Beaumont and Anne Bonfert continuing it, and I’m a newcomer. You must read the articles by all three, which are excellent — links to all of the previous “C” countries at the end.

I debated between Canada or Cote d’Azur, France, for my “C” destination. I will get back to my good friends in the North later. I’m writing about Cote d’Azur, France, this time. Yes, it's a favorite, but not for reasons you might think. I’ve visited four times, but this visit was my last and would be a life-changing, even career-ending visit. For that reason, I chose it.

What I’m about to say may surprise my avid traveling friends.

Picture This:

I’m in France, the French Riviera, to be specific. It’s the 4th of July, the weather is beautiful, and a beautiful French lady is next to me, pressing herself into my side with her free hand on my butt. I gaze out over the table in front of us and see 100 guests, including two Ambassadors and a who’s who of French Society and Senior French Military. Who wouldn’t love to be on the French Riviera on a summer's day — not me?

My mind wonders, and I daydreamed that I would trade this in an instant to be in my backyard, cooking hot dogs on my grill with my own family.

I will circle back to why I wanted to trade the French Riviera for Virginia Beach, Va. But for now, let's back up to the beginning of this story.

We had a three-week stay in this port in France because French Contractors were making some repairs to the ship. This was a more extended port visit than usual.

We were in Toulon, France. There are no official boundaries for the French Riviera, but it's generally accepted that it runs from Toulon on the west and Menton to the east. I’ve been to both and everything in between.

Toulon is France’s principal Naval base and has the most important of the Mediterranean drydocks and shipbuilding yards. In the old town, which was largely destroyed during World War II, are the cathedral of Sainte-Marie Majeure, the rebuilt church of Saint-Louis, and the naval museum; on the quay. While the churches were memorable to visit, being a sailor, I loved the Naval Museum. They had the figurehead of the 80-gun ship Le Neptune and a vast collection of wood model ships. I tried making one, and I greatly respect the work that goes into museum-quality wood model shipbuilding.

I met with the XO (Executive Officer) to discuss the planned events in this port, which were numerous. There were events scheduled for both onboard and ashore. But, the big event was a 4th of July Barbecue at the residence of the Charge d’ Affaires, who is a diplomat and chief of mission for the Ambassador.

The XO said a car would pick me up at the pier so I could see the facilities to plan this event.

While waiting for the car, a delivery truck arrived with our wonderful french bread and pastries. I signed for them and called for a working party to take the provisions aboard. I closed the ship's bakery and let the sailors have liberty, and we purchased all our bakery items from local vendors while in port. France had the best in the Mediterranean.

The car arrived and I was met by an attractive French lady who was an assistant to the Chargé d’ Affaires and a large black bulletproof sedan. I think her name was Gabrielle. She was friendly and spoke perfect English along with several other languages.

As we left the pier, this area is not what you would typically think about when the words French Riviera come to mind. There were no topless beaches with long stretches of sand with beautiful people or beautiful tree-lined streets with posh hotels. No, it’s more industrial, and warehouses and machine shops make up most of the view. The sounds are loud, and the smell of transferring diesel fuel and burning welding rods is strong in the air. As the car passes, I see the French military snapping to attention and saluting the car, but no flags are displayed.

After making our way up the hillside on several switchback roads, we were in a very exclusive area with huge villas overlooking the Mediterranean.

Arriving at the residence, there was a security post at a gate. A long driveway circled a fountain and stopped at the front door. As we entered, I noticed the front door was like a safe. Six solid stainless steel bolts were sticking out, reminding me of a bank vault.

Gabrielle showed me the kitchen, which looked more like a kitchen in a restaurant than a residence. It was something, and I loved that it would work great for us. She said, “Over here is the pantry, the wine cellar is down that staircase, and bathrooms for your staff are here,” as she pointed left.

“Shall we go to the terrace and gardens?” she says. The 4th of July Barbecue was going to be outside, and everything was set up in a tree-covered garden to one side and a manicured lawn with views of the Mediterranean on the other side. I made a sketch of the area and lots of mental notes, and thanked her for her time. She took her leave, saying, “The driver will take you back; work is calling me.”

I planned a menu for this event, but when the draft menu was returned to me, there was lots of red and green ink. The CO (Commanding Officer) had written in hot dogs in red ink. The CO always uses red ink, XO green ink, and everyone else black ink. I had a lot of finger foods on the menu, cocktail-size lumpia, sweet & sour meatballs, stuffed mushroom caps, and so on. Most of these had red or green lines drawn through them. Hamburgers were written in, along with baked beans and potato salad.

They wanted a more traditional American-style 4th of July Barbecue. But I was having trouble visualizing an Ambassador eating a hot dog. The Filet Mignon in a small hand-trimmed 3-ounce size was still on the menu, along with the chicken kabobs.

This was my fourth visit to France, and I still hadn’t seen Paris. In fact, to this very day, I haven’t been to Paris. I had Officer of the Deck duty on a four-section watch bill. So, I couldn’t leave the ship every 4th day. But we had so many special events that I was working most of the time, and the tours to Paris were three days and two nights. It just never worked out for me.

The logistics for this event were staggering. There would be 100 plus guests. We had two ice sculptures, a large fountain with punch, barbecue grills, five foot decorated cake, table linens, bunting, chaffing dishes, food, and drinks. I needed bartenders, front-of-the-house staff, back-of-the-house staff, and at least four men to man the barbecue grills positioned so the smoke would not get in guests' eyes.

I asked for volunteers, and to my surprise, I got all I needed, both sailors and marines who were happy to help.

The event went very well, with one exception. We ran out of hot dogs. I couldn’t believe it; we had plenty of Filet Mignon left over but ran out of hot dogs. And yes, I saw the Ambassador eating a hot dog.

I was happy that this event went well; it was time for me to shuffle off and start planning a formal dinner aboard the ship with French officers attending and a “steel-beach” picnic for the crew, where we invited two dozen French sailors to join us.

But why was I daydreaming about Virginia Beach instead of enjoying the French Riviera?

At this point in my career, I had made four or five Mediterranean cruises, several North Atlantic Cruises, one WestPac cruise, and countless operations in the Caribbean. These were six months long each. My son was growing up not knowing who his father was. I had missed so many birthdays and Christmases. My wife had been both Mom and Dad for way too long. She was and is a trooper — my constant North Star.

This would be my last Mediterranean cruise and my last ship. I did one more tour of duty on shore and then retired. I loved my Navy Career and all that it afforded me, and the chance to see the world. But I wanted time with my family as well. As the recruiter told me many years earlier, you will get to see the world, and I did. . . . .except Paris.

Links to amazing “C” letter destinations from Sam, Adrienne, and Anne. Check them out.