Did you know that in Cannes, France – on the beaches – there are Beach Cops? Not lifeguards, or anything like that. Beach Cops.
Yeah. Me neither.
So there we were. Just off a grueling 4 day game/training regiment in Paris, France. You win some and then you lose some. Ebb and flow, and we held our own on the pitch and in the cafes where wine and beer and funny little drinks with sugar caramelized around the rim flowed like an angry tsunami. We trained on the French national team’s training ground and the grandeur of it all – well, I almost died.
We were beaten and bloodied and we needed rest. Our scabs and bruises need to soak. And there is no better therapeutic tub, brothers and sisters, than a dip in the Mediterranean Sea. Specifically, Cannes.
Two things you must keep in mind as I take you through this story.
1. Cannes has topless beaches.
2. We (our team) consisted of 17-18 year old males.
You do the math.
After we checked in to our St. Elmo’s Fire that is the Best Western, the team donned swim attire, grabbed a towel and made for the beach with visions of topless supermodels in our head. I think I heard my central midfielder whistling Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World. What can I say? We were giddy.
Here’s a couple of interesting tidbits about the topless beaches in Cannes:
1. Not all of the sun worshipers are supermodels. Some of them are accountants and cafe owners and teachers and regular, everyday folk.
2. Some (see: most) are over 50.
3. Some are even older.
4. The fact/fiction ratio will cause your goalkeeper to leave the beach in tears declaring his disdain for “this stupid beach!”
5. Topless does NOT mean nude.
Number 5 above bears explanation. You see, I was a young man then and had a very “when in Rome” attitude. So when I took my trunks off and dove into the warm water of the Med, I thought, ‘I get it now. This is great! Look at me world(!) all European and local and stuff.’
Enter the Beach Cops.
I took two years of French in high school. I barely passed but retained enough to suss out that the Beach Cops were telling me, “You have the wrong beach. Put your trunks back on. Your sex is not beautiful here.” I wanted to object but, you know……
When in Rome goes a long way. Only, we weren’t in Rome at that time.
We were in Cannes. And there is a distinct difference between topless and nude.
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5 Responses
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Haha that was great. I think every young man traveling to Europe has ideas of grandeur in their head of beautiful European women just waiting to meet a rugged, handsome American. This story demonstrates that reality is often much less romantic than our thoughts.
What a delightful post if you are under 50. Over 50′s watch out it appears there is something wrong with your wonderfully taught and trim bodies, that do not always match the tell tales of age and gravity. 50 I thought was the new 40′s and we had a few extra years of being free and easy on our beaches, not nude mind you, but free to a degree.
Beach Cops. Yes I have seen them! This is sad for a beautiful location and almost segregation for those who have and those who have not. That is in the physical sense.