Ten Days Aboard Ghost III: A Côte d'Azur Diary
Ten Days Aboard Ghost III: A Côte d'Azur Diary
Monaco, Cannes & St Tropez — 5–13 June
Ten days aboard Ghost III, beginning with the Monaco Grand Prix. The kind of trip you spend a while afterwards trying to describe, and mostly fail.
The Arrival
We flew into Nice and were driven to Monaco — nearly an hour along the coast, past the old estates, Beethoven's included. From the smaller port a taxi boat carried us across to Port Hercule, where Ghost III would be home for the next eight days.
We stayed in port for the first four, through the Grand Prix. Ghost hosted across each day, the parties running into one another until morning and afternoon stopped meaning much.
La Guérite & the Grand Prix Crowd
Then out of port and down to La Guérite for lunch. Everyone passes through here eventually — Elton has been known to turn up and take over the decks. The Grand Prix crowd lunches here on the Monday, so I'd half-expected to see a driver, maybe a team.
We ate, we stayed late, and Alix Earle and Lando Norris were both there, entourages in tow. The place is exactly what it promises to be.
St Tropez
A night on the water off Cannes, then south to St Tropez. We went straight for the markets. I'd left my shoes on the boat, which made finding a plain pair of slides the afternoon's project — eventually found below our usual spot in town.
That spot is Bar Sube, a small bar inside a hotel. If a balcony table comes free, take it: the street below on one side, the port on the other. The walls have seen things.
St Tropez feels like a film set someone forgot to strike. You're welcome everywhere — the shops, the bars, the Dior café that looks built for a camera. You can spend everything or nothing. The market jewellery alone is worth an hour.
The find of the trip was a wine merchant in a cave, tucked behind the fish market. The owner pulled out a few folding chairs, opened a bottle of rosé and sat with us a while, serving customers between pours and supplying half the boats in port. If you find it, say hi to Mel.
A Word on L'Opéra
L'Opéra is worth doing once, with your eyes open. Not for the service or the food — ours sat at the far end of the table, out of reach, beside a small fortune in untouched drinks. You go for the show, and the show is good: loud, a little provocative, the tables fair game.
A note from a table of twenty: watch the bill. Ours came in high, and the later the night ran, the harder it became to query. Enjoy it, but keep an eye on the tab.
Gigi's & Club 55
Out on open water, we tendered in to Gigi's — past Nikki Beach, through a stretch of bush, into a restaurant with sand for a floor. One note: the DJ was working far too hard, far too early. Everyone was mid-lunch and you couldn't hear yourself across the table. Let the room arrive first. The pool area, though, is worth staying for.
Club 55 is the calmer one — quieter than La Guérite, famous since Bardot. The service is easy, the food good, and the shop is a problem: the homewares and the beachwear are too well chosen. Leave the card at home, or don't. You'll want it.
Rough Seas, Calm Mornings
Not every night is smooth. After Club 55 we had hours of it — the boat rocking, things sliding off the shelves — until the group chat went: don't worry all, we're moving. (Two motion sickness tablets before bed. Take them.)
We woke to flat water and a clear sky, so the crew put the toys out — jet skis, a swim, a long stretch of nothing. Then back up to Cannes for a walk. My partner and I travel by hotel lobby bar, and Cannes rewards it: the history, the festival steps, the places you've only seen on a screen.
Eden Roc
Back aboard, we cruised up toward La Guérite's island and dropped anchor. The crew set out the water park, parked us on the tender, and we spent the afternoon swimming off the back of it in water that didn't look real.
Getting ready that evening — a rosé or two in — I set up hair and makeup and sent word down: bring the girls up for touch-ups. We're going to Eden Roc.
Years on the list. Finally there.
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