Nice is... eh... not that nice.

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A 6 hour train ride from the Gare de Lyon station. Matt and I arrived there (with all of our bags... reminder to myself to pack 1 less suitcase than I think I need) more than an hour before our train departed, so we sat and had a long leisurely coffee break. In the train, we sat in a 4-person area, with 2 sets of chairs facing each other with a small table space in between. I sat next to a friendly middle-aged man who attempted to speak to Matt and I. Unfortunately, he didn't speak English (or Spanish, we would be able to somewhat speak), and we didn't speak French (and although we both took Italian classes in college, realized that we had completely forgotten it). He said goodbye and got off in Toulon which is a stop on the way to Nice.

5 1/2 hours later, we arrived in Nice. The train stations in Paris are very peculiar in that they are completely lacking in elevators/escalators/easier options for travelers who have suitcases other than carrying them up and down long flights of stairs. We got off the train with a large group of travelers (Nice is the last stop), and watched as travelers with heavy suitcases (more than 1, in my case) lugged them down stairs, rolled them down a hall, and then stop at the bottom of another long flight of stairs leading up to the exit. I overheard a French woman saying it was ridiculous.

When you depart the Nice train station, the city is not nearly as glamorous and beachy as you'd hope. It reminded me of some of the older sketchier parts of Rome, but not quite as dirty as Athens. The streets surrounding the station are cluttered, sketchy looking (I'd hate to be roaming around there at night), and occupied by unsavory characters. A few scummy worn down sex shops faced the station exit. We grabbed our bags and started down the long Rue Jean Medicin main street to our hotel/apartment where we'd stay for the next 4 nights.

When we got to the main section of the city which was closer to the beach, it was better, but fairly touristy, filled with little crap shops selling provence-themed junk, and restaurants with all-you-can-eat dinner specials and a hostess standing outside near the posted menu, urging you to stop inside. We had dinner at an Italian restaurant on the inland main street running parallel to the beach. It was very busy, mostly because portions were enormous and prices were reasonable.

Matt and I walked around and explored the city a bit before retiring for the night.

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