Mayonnaise

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Geo: 43.7034, 7.2662

I didn't sleep all that well last night because (a) it was still noisy outside, and (b) even though I turned off the bedside lamp, it still flickered all night long. I couldn't get it to truly turn off; I couldn't even take out the light bulb. And it made a continuous tick-tick-tick noise that was very, very quiet but just loud enough to hear. I finally fell asleep wondering if it was going to catch fire or something.

We had a walking tour this morning with Agnès, a Parisienne who moved to Nice twelve years ago for the sunshine. And it was, indeed, very sunny and warm today. We stopped first at the town hall, where the mayor (who was recently re-elected and quite popular) lives and works. In the courtyard in front is a sculpture of a thumb. Yup. Nothing says local government like a thumb. In front of the thumb (temporarily) was a boat that will be used on Sunday for the feast day of St. Reparate. I'd never heard of her either, but she's the patron saint of Nice. The boat will be decorated with a ton of flowers and then paraded through the streets of Old Nice with a statue of the saint.

Agnès took us by the oldest bookstore in Nice: it was used by Queen Victoria when she used to holiday on the Cote d'Azur. We also walked by the oldest shop, which sells umbrellas, parasols, and walking sticks. Most of the old town is already decorated with flags for Sunday's festival.

We went into Nice's cathedral, which, of course, is being restored. The outside ain't much, but the inside is Baroque and golden. Virginie was surprised to see it because she hadn't been inside for quite some time since it's been in restoration. She said it used to be very grey and dark, but now it's bright and light. One of the side chapels is dedicated to St. Reparate (with the statue that will be paraded) and her relics and to St. Teresa.

Agnès then brought us to the Palais Lascaris. It was built for a noble family in the 18th century. It's on a nothing little street, and you'd walk right by it if you didn't have someone pointing it out. It's full of unusual and very old musical instruments, including a single instrument that is a harpsichord on one side and a harp on the other. It's also got some nifty doors that have the first automatic closing mechanism. The hinges are attached in such a way that if the door isn't held open, it will close. The rooms are so small and the door fits so well in the frame that not even a little bit of cold air can get in. This alleviated the need for fireplaces in each room. It can get cold in Nice, but not that cold.

We stood for a few minutes in front of the main courthouse, and Agnès explained how lawyers must wear robes but they aren't allowed to go outside in them. There are exceptions of course: (1) if they want to step outside onto the porch for a cigarette (Tangent: I always forget just how much Europeans smoke!), or (2) if they need to cross the square to the other, smaller courthouse. As she said that, we saw three lawyers come out of the smaller courthouse to cross the square. I (and a few others) raised my camera to take a photo, but Agnès was standing right next to me and said that they must not be photographed. Apparently, if they are photographed in their robes, they can be fired. This seems a bit harsh, especially since we learned that it's nearly impossible to be fired in France, but I put my camera back in my pocket.

We finished the tour at the food-and-flower market on the Cours Saleya. While Agnès finished up her remarks, Virginie was buying us socca from one of the stalls. Socca is a popular street food in Nice and I'd been wanting to try some. It's sort of like a crȇpe made of chickpeas, which is cooked in olive oil and then seasoned with salt and pepper. It's usually served in a paper cone, but Virginie brought us a few that we cut up into small pieces. It was good, though of a different consistency than I expected. Socca is essentially pure protein, so one can fill you up for most of the day. (I'm hoping to try fougasse too, if I can find it. It's a lacy bread flavored with nuts, herbs, and olives.)

When we were released, I took a bus to the Marc Chagall Museum. (European buses -- with the exception of England -- are made more for standing than sitting.) The museum building is modern and reminded me of the Cro-Magnon information center in Beynac. I arrived just after the film started so I decided to do that first. I'm glad I did because it was mainly an interview with Chagall in the 1970s, in which he talked about his process and some of his works. He was a cheerful guy, so it's no wonder his paintings are so full of life and color. The museum has 17 murals that he painted specifically for that space. They depict various books of the Bible, including the Song of Songs, and show his love of Russian folklore, his Jewish heritage, and his feeling that he lived between heaven and earth. Someone on the Rick Steves' Helpline had said the museum was disappointing because all it had were black-and-white drawings. Maybe she was in a different museum because all I saw were surreal swirls of color. It was beautiful, and I'm really glad I went. (I had originally thought about not going because I don't like taking buses in foreign cities. You never know when they're going to veer off onto the highway and take you to another city 40 minutes away!)

I took the bus back to town and found the Monoprix. Wouldn't you know it: two days left and I run out of toothpaste and floss. So I bought those and some chocolate, and then went to the mall. I know going to the mall seems ridiculous when there are all kinds of other things to do in a city like Nice, but malls have restrooms and all sorts of different shops. This particular mall also had a Starbucks. Yay! The girl asked me my name so she could write it on the cup, and she actually spelled it correctly. Gasp! Anyway, my mocha was good but a bit too sweet.

One thing I noticed while sitting there -- and someone on the tour had pointed this out too -- is the lack of tattoos and piercings. At home, I sometimes feel like I'm the last person without a tattoo (even though I know tons of people who aren't tattooed), and I feel like my single-pierced ears are so uncool. In France, I've only seen the occasional small tattoo, and discreet piercings. But who knows? Maybe under their clothes the French are inked like circus freaks!

I went into the Mephisto store after spending a great deal of time looking at the window display. I tried on a pair of shoes and actually bought them. The lady was very nice and even walked me back to the front of the store after I'd paid to open the door for me. I feel guilty about buying the shoes, but I guess this will be my one extravagant purchase on this trip.

I also went into the Galeries Lafayette to see if I could buy a scarf, but they were all made in China or India. So I bought some earrings instead. They're also made in China but ... whatever. I like them.

I rested in the hotel for a while and then went out to walk along the Promenade des Anglais. I found where the bus stop is for the airport, so now I feel good about that. There's a pleasant park a few blocks away from the hotel that has a carousel and several sculptures, and also nearby is a building with an empty lot next to it, so the side facing the lot has been painted trompe l'oeil style to look like it's got balconies. I crossed the very busy street to walk back along the water. The beaches here are rocky, but there were plenty of people out sunbathing and swimming. There were also sailboat races just off the shore; I couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on. The views over the Baie des Anges (the Bay of Angels, so called because that's where St. Reparate's body and head were brought to shore in a boat that had been set adrift (thus, the boat for the festival)) are mesmerizing. I love being able to see the horizon. The sun was warm, the sea was glittering, there was a soft breeze, and there's that moment where you think, "I could live here." All I need is a little villa up on the hillside ....

Our last supper was at Le Grand Balcon (not sure where this alleged balcony actually was) just around the corner from the hotel. Très pratique! I sat with Virginie, Barb and Mickey, with Vicki and Stan on my other side. We had kir royale to start, and little toasts with tapenade. I had saumon marine maison et salade de fenouil à l'huile d'olive to start, followed by dos de dorade à la ligurienne, pomme purée maison (that's salmon salad with fennel, and sea bream with mashed potatoes). Dessert was crème brûlée. Everything was really good and washed down with a glass of rosé.

Afterwards, Virginie took us over to the water and thanked us for making her job easy. I have to say, we were a pretty easygoing and obedient group. She compared a successful tour to making mayonnaise: blending the egg and oil together is difficult, but when you have the right proportions, it all comes together. So, I guess we're mayonnaise! She handed around cups and then poured champagne (not Champagne) for everyone. She toasted us, we toasted her, and then we all toasted each other. She also handed out bookmarks on which she'd written personal messages, and she also gave out lavender sachets. I hope the drug-sniffing dogs know that lavender is not a Bad Thing!

So, except that we can have breakfast tomorrow, the tour is over. Despite feeling a bit lonely at first, I've really enjoyed it. We had a good group of people, and Virginie was a fantastic guide. The only bad thing is that this tour didn't have as much walking, so I'm likely to return five pounds heavier than when I left. Quelle horreur!

Tomorrow (hopefully): Monaco!

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Comments

[Aunt Marianne]

I have thoroughly enjoyed traveling through France with you on my computer. Thanks for including me.

[Yvonne]

I couldn't agree more, I've enjoyed my trip with you. Someday we'll have to do it in person again.