Due to our unfortunate sobriety, however, we ended
up wandering aimlessly around the gardens awhile
longer. Down the cliff a bit on the side of the hill
facing the obscene cruise ship pr0n, was a tidy
gaming area. Access was clearly to be had by way of
some secret passage from within the mount, but we
were just as clearly not to have access to the secret
passage. Bah, we didn't want to play stupid tennis
anyway. Or ping-pong! Damn you, Monte Carlo!
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After Roger came back and grabbed my camera away
from me, thereby jerking me back into sad reality,
we continued on our quest to get the hell off this
hill and find the Exotic Gardens. But every sign we
saw seemed to point in a different direction! It
was all madness and chaos and crippling thirst for
beer until we stumbled upon our savior, Dr. Albert
Schweitzer. From his hiding place in the shadows of
the shrubbery, Dr. Schweitzer told us the secrets
of life and the way down, all for the
very reasonable charge of us running away before he
could tell us what the price was.
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We rolled on down the hill,
our route very coincidentally retracing the way
we'd come up. Once we were back in town, we searched
until we found a camera shop that carried memory
cards compatible with my camera, as we'd discovered
at the top of the hill that the brand new spare I'd
purchased before, and specifically for, this trip did,
indeed, not work at all. Bastards!
After that ordeal I got hungry, so we located a little
delicatessen that sold baguette sandwiches and bought a
couple, one of which I ate while we weaved our way
through the town center so we could climb back up the
hill with the train station on it, for the Exotic Gardens
were high, high above the station on the hill. Yes,
another goddamn hill.
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