The French Riviera

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Our thoughts and prayers go out to all the families of those who so tragically lost their lives in the devastating plane crash from Barcelona to Dusseldorf. It was so heartbreaking to read about and one can only imagine the pain left in the wake of this terrible accident. It is also difficult for us, having just been in Barcelona where we encountered dozens of school groups, and wondering if perhaps it was one of them. Life cut short too soon for so many. Hold those you love a bit tighter tonight.

We arrived in Nice by train from Avignon. We met a very nice man from Virginia while waiting for the train and we chatted with him for some time. He was travelling on his own at the ripe age of 72, which I found very brave indeed. We parted ways as we got off the TGV at the Nice Ville station and walked about 20 minutes to our hotel. We are one block from the Mediterranean and right around the corner from the majestic, and very expensive, Hotel Negresco. After unpacking necessities we went out for a windy walk along Le Promenade d'Anglais. Due to the weather there were not many people around. The waves were crashing to the shore and without the sun you could not get the true beauty of the azure coloured water. We wandered up to Vieux Nice where there were certainly more people. We wound our way through the streets lined with shops, tiny restaurants and under awnings which overlapped to thwart the rain. We admired the smell from the spice stands, fresh flowers, and stacks of homemade, very fragrant soap. We stopped in a patisserie where Curtis had a sausage wrapped in a flaky roll to quell his hunger pangs. After a couple of hours we headed back to our little Hotel de France, walking along different streets. Suddenly I felt this plop on my arm. I looked down and thought that I had been shat upon by one of the many pigeons flying about but at closer inspection realized that I had been spat upon from a balcony above. Fighting the urge to heave Curtis found a piece of something on the street to clean it off. Gross. Needless to say I cleaned my sleeve thoroughly.

Later, when the rain had stopped, we walked down the street and around the corner where we picked up a delicious kebab and walked around the block eating. Saw my first prostitute standing on the corner of the street across from the promenade. Sad life for sure and such a young person. We made our way back where we fell into slumber.

Wednesday dawned cloudy again. We walked along the street that our hotel is on and it turns out that it becomes the Rue de Massena, a wide pedestrian street with lots of shops and restaurants. Looking for a place for breakfast is an interesting adventure for sure. We did not want to pay 13 euros for an American Breakfast and even the Petit Dejeuner breakfast seemed pricey. We kept walking to the Old Town where we finally stopped at a restaurant on Cours Saleya for coffee, tea, and a croissant. As we looked to our left we could see the building where artist Henri Matisse spent 17 years of his life. With rain beginning to fall, we followed a walk that is in Rick Steve's travel book. We came to the baroque church, Il Gesu which stands in sharp contrast to some of the ones we have visited in Spain. The busyness of baroque style has you constantly looking around because everywhere there is something different, from walls, chapels to ceiling. Down one of the streets there stands a pirate and his store is filled with barrels. In each barrel there are different varieties of candy. Now we are not big candy people at all. We rarely have sweets at home but decided to each get a bag and put in some sweet treats. Well that little adventure cost us 12 euros! Didn't want to spend the money on breakfast but apparently on candy!!! We lost the path we were following so continued on our own. We ended up at the Nice port where we watched several young painters standing at their easels, brushes sweeping on theirrrr canvasses, trying to capture the small colourful boats with Castle Hill in the background. We marveled at the staggering amount of money that some people have to be able to buy yachts the size of our house. We continued up the hill and back on to the Promenade which followed the Mediterranean back to the Old Town. The rain was falling in earnest so we returned to a small Italian place we had seen yesterday and enjoyed a wonderful lunch. Walking through the Promenade du Paillon we headed back to the hotel, passing by several hairstyling establishments where I am certain they were looking at my hair and wanting to say (with a French accent), "Dahleeng, zis iz France. You call zat hair? Here, I vill feex it for you." So on that note I dug out the hair products my sister bought for me and am "feexing" it myself!

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