High Rollers in Monte Carlo

One warm summer night in Monte Carlo while backpacking in 1990, Zar, Tanya, and I decided to splurge on a banana split, while eating on a cliff overlooking the sea. As backpackers, we never ordered dessert, because we had to save every penny.

But tonight, we were in Monte Carlo, and this was our way of being “high rollers.”

The moon was hovering over the sea, turning the sky around it electric blue, and making the ice cream taste like we were eating moonlight itself. We ordered a second one, savoring the mana of cold cream with hot fudge drizzled over creamy bananas, all covered in a cream whipped into melt-in-your-mouth ecstasy.

We were so busy relishing the mix of flavors, we missed the last train back to our hotel in Nice.

Floating in the afterglow of our decadent indulgence of not just one, but two banana splits, we sat on the curb outside in the warm summer air, and leaned on each other. Watching the moon over the sea, we discussed possible solutions to getting back, involving things like speedboats, flying horses, and magic carpets.

Turns out that eating ice cream that tastes like moonlight softens the world. The jagged edges disappear for a moment, and everything becomes gentle and glowing.

It was in this soft world that three rambunctious Italian boys stopped to talk to us. They spoke very little English, but when they learned we were stuck, they agreed to drive the three of us back to our hotel room in Nice in their convertible. It was technically in a different country, but only a thirty minute raucous drive back to our hotel. The ride filled with loud singing, car dancing, and the kind of laughter that catapults into the air and cartwheels down the rocks before splashing in the sea. The boys dropped us back at our hotel, waved, and drove away singing.

Our hotel was the quirky backpacker-budget kind of hotel with a fat cat sitting on a rough piano in the tattered hallway, but that night, in our ice-cream-afterglow, it felt like the most luxurious five-star haven.

We quietly entered the hotel, shushing each other and giggling, until we collapsed into our beds. When my head sunk into my pillow, I looked out the big window and saw the moon sitting on a cloud, just like a cherry on whipped cream. I fell asleep feeling like the richest person in the world.

Picture of Marci Darling

Marci Darling

I lie here on my pink puffy bed in my pink silky pajamas, or pink flannel depending on my mood (the only thing you can bank on is that there will be chocolate smeared somewhere on my attire), with my pink feathered pen, writing my most delicious daydreams. Funny? Sometimes. Scandalous? Hopefully. Inspiring? Perhaps. Full of love? Always. Welcome to my World.

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