Che Sara Sanremo!

So here's the last of my spring travel tales. WIsely, I arranged my trip to leave Monte-Carlo and go to Italy, because I like Italy, and I figured it'd be a nice place to finish up. Sanremo (or San Remo) was once a fairly well-known party-gambling destination, but the Vegas casino in its honor has been replaced with a Hooters and the craziest days of its namesake might be behind it. Nevertheless, it's still a summertime hot spot. Upon arriving in San Remo, I took a stroll and was happy as soon as I passed these places on the street. Strip clubs. I don't really care to go in and spend Euros on strippers, but it was a sure sign I was away from the stuffy, overly-swank city of Monte-Carlo, and the seediness made me feel more at home.


Also symbolic of the less grandiose 'tude was the more low-key green card needed for gaming in the casino, as opposed to the hoity-toity gold. I like green anyhow, as it reminds me of American money.


The San Remo casino was more casual than Monte-Carlo, though a White House State Dinner is probably less formal than that place, and it was also larger than the Cannes ones. They were hosting a big poker tournament while I was there, which was pretty cool, too, though I briefly wished I'd brought along my poker book instead of Lady Luck. But then once the gambling commenced, I was glad I brought Lady Luck with me. YAY to being in Italy again!


I stayed at the Royal Hotel, and it was a nice enough place, though, again, 5 stars for a European hotel is comparable to about a 4 star American one. The bar was tiny, which was sad for me, but I had an outrageously huge patio overlooking the pool and the Mediterranean, and there's certainly nothing to complain about that view.


The pool was another salt water pool. These are becoming increasingly vogue, I guess. Pfft. But it was also really fun to swim in as it was deep and landscaped (waterscaped?) with underwater caves to swim through and lots of intersting stuff like that. Lady Luck preferred to simply sun herself and enjoy the view while I frolicked. And though the pool attendants were devastatingly handsome, the menu was sort of crap, so I didn't have to worry about hiding my treasured Monte-Carlo condoms from her. Though, given the gorgeousness of the Italian guys all around, I had to remind myself to keep those souvenirs tucked safely away.


And that concluded my Mediterranean tour. I was happy and felt very fortunate to have been able to see that part of the world. And though Italy was fun and pleasant enough, and the whole area was tremendously beautiful, I left with a strong feeling almost like a lover who cheated and was horribly disappointed. It was the Cote d'Azur alright. But, for me, it just wasn't Vegas. Call me a degenerate, but I still prefer to party like I was doped up with "roofinol," and Vegas is the only place that not only tolerates, but encourages that sort of behavior. So I'll be tucking my passport away for a while. Culture Schmulture. Vegas, Baby!