“What a place” doesn’t even come close.

My first morning at Cannes begins quite early (3:15 a.m., to be exact), in London, as I make my way to the airport. With nothing but extensive google searches to arm myself, I get on a Nice bound flight with a heavy bag of dreams, a laptop, three books and my passport. The painfully early 7:30 a.m. flight is far from sleepy. On the contrary, it’s full of international industry chatter; reporters planning their interviews by the bathrooms; producers catching up with friends over seatbacks; cinephiles eagerly listening to whatever dish they could hear. Business cards, I quickly learn, are currency in Cannes. 

Follow the Daily’s journey at the Cannes Film Festival here.

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