Nice is sometimes nice

The train ride from Porto was delayed by laundry. The hostel would wash for you, but the dryers in much of Europe suck. We gave our dirty stuff to the desk the night before we were to head for Lisbon/Madread/Barcelona, feeling safe because we didn't have to leave the hostel for our train until 4 pm. After much prodding Wednesday afternoon, we finally got a folded load of wet laundry back and missed our train to Lisbon. We were more irritated than actually set off course because the trains run from Porto frequently, and we didn't have to catch our overnight to Madrid until about 10 pm.

We made it to Lisbon a little after 9, fearing the moldy and smelly mess developing in our bags, searched for some food, and hopped the overnight. We didn't pay for the beds, so we got two regular train seats and set ourselves to a deck of cards I brought from home, complimented by a bottle of wine. That helped what could have been an uneasy, interrupted nighmare turn into something resembling sound sleep.

When we arrived in Madrid in the morning, we have to take the metro to the other station for the ride to Barcelona. While waiting in an impossibly crowded ticket room, we met three Americans, also headed for Barcelona, who said the 10 am train, which is the one we all wanted, is booked. The next available was at 3pm. This is great news for Jay and I, who have been DYING for an excuse be trapped in Madrid for sevearl hours. But the five of us made the best of it, searching out a secluded corner of the train station and playing cards all morning and afternoon.

The train left us in Barcelona about 6 pm, and Jay and I managed to secure two beds, once again, at The Best Little Boar House in Barcelona. We got there without running into any wild beasts and spent a quiet night getting an actual sound night of sleep. But we had to be up early again to catch the train to Nice.

But when we got to França -- the smaller train station near the coast, as oppsed to the main Estaciós Sants located in the center of the city -- we found the train we want, the quick one, was booked. Two Americans from Boston made a scene arguing with the woman behind the window. Frustration built because they needed the same train we needed, and the woman spoke little English. One finally stormed off yelling, "You need to learn to speak English!" In the middle Spain, it is of course expected for everyone to speak our language for our benefit and comfort. Because you know we bend over backwards in America to learn every one of our visitors' languages.

The ride we finally found left at 11 am and was much longer, with many stops and a transfer in Montpellier, France. There was a layover there, however, so we got something to eat and, because of a nice surprise on our ticket (basically because we're over 26) our Eurail passes are first class with no extra cost. Bonus! We rode from Montpellier in a plush, quiet and spacious first class section, enough to give us rest after a long hot ride along the Mediterranean.

We reserved beds at the Hostel de Saint-Exupèry, named after the author of the French children's book Le Petit Prince. The hostel cancelled our reservation because we arrived later than we anticipated (around midnight) after the unexpected unavailability of our planned train. The clerk was extremely helpful, though, and found us two beds in a private six-bed room, occupied by three Canadians, for the same price we were going to pay for our reserved beds in the dorm.

There was only room for us for one night when we reserved, though, so the next morning we had to set about either convincing the Saint-Exupèry to let us stay for a couple more nights, or to find another hostel. Saint-Exupèry didn't have enough room, so we found a cheap hotel on the far west side of the main beach boulevard, Promenade des Anglais. It looked like a decent walk, but not too far. So we loaded up our bags, strapped them on, took the tram to the Promenade and set off west.

Big mistake. The weather, and the direct sun, is much hotter than it was in Portugal a month ago. And "a decent walk" turned into over a mile. We were both miserable, tired and sweating buckets by the time we got to the hotel. The price worked out to be about €48 total, which is a bit more than we pay normally at hostels, but it was all that was availabile. The sweeteners were private showers and toilets, and AC.

The problem is, the room was the size of a matchbox on the top of a six story building and the "AC" was a tiny box hanging from the ceiling in which the air compressor never even bothered trying to make a guest apperance. All the thing did was use a sad little fan to blow the hot air back into our faces. Fortunately we could spend the rest of the day on the pebbly shore, and the sea was warm. We ate in a nearby (and cheap) pizza joint and returned to the room.

It got worse as the sun went down. The room was so unbearably stuffy I was inches from throwing myself out the window, but I couldn't even do that because the bastards bolted those shut. We went to the breakfast room to play cards until neither of us could stay awake any longer. In the room, Jay was able to tolerate it enough to sleep, but I tossed in my sweaty bed for two hours until I decided to sleep on the tile floor. Better for a while -- it got me two hours worth -- but as soon as the sun came up, I picked up my notepad and book (I was reading "Lolita," by Vladmir Nabokov) and went to the nearby beach to watch the sunrise, write and swim again in the sea.

Several hours later, I returned to the room and easily convinced Jay to check out of the hotel, find an internet cafe and reserve something better. After some initial struggling, we found a cafe and reserved a place very near the city's train station. We had a four-person room with a tiny stone balcony overlooking a small grassless courtyard. The balcony had two main advantages: we were allowed to open the French doors (or, I believe in Nice they just call them doors) to bring in the cool night air, and the balcony had a table and two chairs.

So after initial hassle and frustration, Nice became nice again. We spent much time at the beach, found a great outdoor café and restaurant to watch the Euro Cup final (Germany v Spain, and Spain won) and went parasailing earlier today.

Tomorrow we find an early (or "early," depending on who you ask) train at 1130 for Firenze (it's Florence in English, though I have no idea where that name comes from). These trains also require reservations, so instead of getting burned again, as we did leaving Barcelona, we decided to get up at 8, be at the station by 9 and make reservations as soon as the window opens. Crossing fingers.

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