Slumming it in Southern France

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I’ll avoid the corny line about Nice being a nice place. Too late. To be fair it is very, ugh, nice! Dam, I’ve done it again. I can see how it would be a nice place (there’s three) to go if you were quite old and loaded with cash. It was well out of my league and, despite no longer being in Italy, I felt like a bit of a tramp. Everyone was dressed in designer clothes and all the cars maintained the same rich image. Sports cars everywhere and, unlike those in Paris, they weren’t covered in dents.

There was no point in me going into any shops as I would have been thrown out the moment I walked in through the door.

The tourist circuit took about half a day, taking in a chateau up top on a hill with an excellent view, the old market and an impressive Russian church. I decided to spend the remainder of the day in Monaco (or Monte Carlo or whatever it prefers to be called).

If I thought that there was a lot of money in Nice, then I was in for a surprise. Monaco is in a league of its own. Not content with just the designer clothes and the sports car, these people had all got huge great yachts as well. I’d left mine back in England, which was a terrible shame. I should have got the staff to sail it down ready for when I arrived.

I saw the world famous casino and considered going in, but being in T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, I wouldn’t have get anywhere near the place! Blast, I’d left my tuxedo on the yacht! Mind you, that style of dress was good enough for the casinos in Las Vegas, so I couldn’t see why they were so stuck-up about it.

Checked out the palace, the harbour and the sea front and then headed back to Nice to pick up my backpack and catch the train round to Bordeaux.

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