The Beach

Cannes. Lounging away the afternoon, feet in sand, at the posh brasserie on Carlton's Kikki Beach. Enjoying the sun, the smiles and the attentive service . Finally.
Cannes - especially during festival - is a mental extreme-sport for your self-appreciation: you're NOBODY until otherwise proved. The contrast is even bigger than what I get in Copenhagen if I chose to speak Danish (just arrogance) or Swedish (ridicule, abuse or worse).
In spite of us (or Gentry, really) having a meeting booked in the adjoining promotion tent (there are several of these along the beach, giving away luxury freebies to celebs), we got lots of heavy sighs until we had someone call and certify us.
However, I guess all those heavy-sighing French people are just there to help me, because once inside, I'd rather lounge with Angelina than with that couple from Arkansas with pink lapel stickers showing which cruise ship they should be sent back to, in case they get lost.