I probably smell like Brad Pitt

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We day tripped to Eze, a small town teetering precariously on the peak of a mountain....

But first we went to the Russian Cathedral in Nice while we waited for our train. It was pretty cool, but it only took five minutes to see, then we did some quality sitting around.

Upon arriving in Eze, we found out that we could either hike for an hour and a half to get to the mountain town, or take a bus for ten minutes. We opted for the bus, but we had to wait an hour for it. Neil and Amy went to a nearby restaurant with a sea view for lunch while I elected to purchase a sandwich from the shop next door. I ate it on a deserted beach on the Mediterranean Sea. Not bad. Not bad at all.

The bus ride was nuts. Actually, the bus ride was normal. The road was nuts! It just winded its way up the mountain ascending increasingly tight corners and switchbacks. And the bus driver had obviously done the route a million times, because he wasn't a big fan of slowing down for the corners. I thought it was fun. Amy thought it was a bit nauseating. Neil thought about Stephen King.

A the top, Amy and Neil went to see the perfumery, but I had no interest. So we decided to meet back in Nice at our hostel later in the day. I wandered into town and I think I walked along every narrow street (which were the width of a sidewalk, and it was cool) in town, but you couldn't ever get a sea view, unless you were willing to pay 5 euro to enter the garden, which I was not. I decided to hike back down to the train station and got some nice views along the way instead. The trail reminded me of the Death Race, so I jogged a small portion of it. Then I remembered it was 26 degrees and super humid, so I stopped doing that. I grabbed the next train back to Nice and met up with Neil and Amy in the hostel who told me the wonderful tale of their day.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special treat for you this entry. Neil is going to write a guest entry about the perfumery. Enjoy!


Thanks, James. First of all, it is a PerfumerIE. Very French. The perfumerie is for a little guy named Fragonard. I hadn't heard of him but I'm sure all you ladies have. And if not, you should read a book. Or be more pretty smelling. It was pretty interesting to learn about the different methods used in the Olde Dayze to "extract oils of essence." That phrase reminded me of a video game I played where I would extract the "essence" of these little devil-girls. Anyway, for example, to get a kilo of Jasmine requires a metric tonne of flowers. Also, they import scents from around the world. Any guesses about Canada's smell? Pine. Lame.

The tour was free, but on the way out, you have to go through one of their stores... So I'm sure they make plenty o' money as it was pretty bumping when Amy and I walked through. I didn't buy anything because I smell perfect. In fact, some perfume lady commented on my natural man scent as we were leaving. I wonder how many tonnes of me would be needed to get a kilo of my essence. I probably smell like Brad Pitt.

Amy and I toured the town a little afterwards. There were lots of little dwellings that probably belonged in The Shire. That's where Hobbits live, for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about. Cool city, nice views, great smells. That's all I have. Back to you, James.


Well done, Neil. That's it for this entry. The next one is all about the beach, Monaco, and my Cannes film festival experience. I probably almost saw Brad Pitt...

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