Motorway A8, exit 42

Cannes, "La Croisette", end of the fast track to the holidays. Past the last reminder indicating the exit, first signs of exotic plantations ornate the roadside, came for vacation, here it is. Getting closer, blue sea and beaches are in sight behind soundproof walls of the A8. In case you forgot why you came all the way here, this is a land of hedonism. Here is the way, folow the palmtrees.In a tight row, like mythic statues guarding a gate, palm trees stand on either side of the exit ramp. Fifty square centimetres for all growing space squeezed between safety railings. Not to prevent for them to run away but to secure the way to the beach, holiday visitors shouldn't be allowed distraction or diversion. They came here for a reason and there is no escape to it. Now, at last, is time to enter the "holiday country". Leading the way to the exit, the trees alternate with lamp posts (in the unfortunate case of getting lost), next direction for everyone: the same one. Since the first road sign announcing Nice 256 kilometres far, Riviera so long expected is finally at reach.
Coming to the roundabout disseminating the holiday goers along the coastline, three miserable trees welcome rows of camping cars and caravans. Their greyness dissolves in the overwhelming satisfaction of seeing the first signs of the exotic. All rush to their final dreamland for the next fortnight. Never mind the crowd as long as each one can claim a square meter. Drop the luggage and jump in the water. Sleep in the shade of a large palm leaf. Promise on the brochure, is now what I expect. No fancy island, too expensive, no far destination, not enough time. Green palm and blue sky is there and then, no need to look further?
Forget the décor, as long as its matches the post card, what more can be demanded. There is no time for questioning, "life is too short", just enjoy with the others. At least fort the short while you are here. Tomorrow will be grey and polluted, back to the city, return to the daily boredom. Drive, work, sleep. Insomniac, bad luck.
When you leave, for the next nine months, this same décor, now empty will ornate the daily boredom of the autochthones. Drive, work, sleep under the shade of a palm tree. But its exotic is lost in the routine, tree among others, it provides a source of income for post card photographers, garnishes the corner of the living room or the fifth floor balcony. The exotic is lost or is it just somewhere else?

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