As people do when they go on holidays, I fell in love. Deep, spine tingling, ‘i want this to last forever’ love. I know I said that Annecy was amazing (or what I told everyone is that Annecy was my favourite place in France), but Nice not only won that contest, it swept into first place with a casual class that made no question of the fact that it belonged there.
I almost didn’t go. Or rather, I almost didn’t make it. There was a two hour period as I was sitting in a cafe in Aix-Les-Bains after missing my train connection to get to Geneva to catch my flight (and then caught a train to Aix after being told it would get me closer to Geneva) where I was doing the math and wondering if it was just better to head back to the mountains. Who really needs a holiday anyways?
I finally decided to take the train to Lyon and from there bought tickets for a six hour trip down to Marseille and from there to Nice. Our train pulled in to Nice in the midst of pouring rain and me frantically trying to get my poor, tired brain to figure out what the heck a tram stop was (we don’t really have those in Canada and I had been up since 6:45. My brain was not at it’s sharpest). The best luck of my day was when I managed to catch the (second) last shuttle up to the hostel where the night guard was kind enough to check me in and told me to come back in the morning to sort out payment. Emails to my mother and best friend, a shower and I crawled quite gratefully into my top bunk.
The next morning I woke up to sun and this light feeling in my chest that comes from suddenly knowing you made the right decision and that, as much as your mother did not give you the sympathy you were looking for, she was right when she told you you now had quite the story to tell. That light feeling got even lighter when I met two fellow Canadians at breakfast and a group of us went down and sat on the beach. And that was it. Because it was a national holiday in France, public transport wasn’t running, so we walked the 30 minutes down and stopped off at the Petite Casino and bought 1€ beers and oranges and sat on the beach. Which was everything I wanted.
The next day I did take the bus down to Èze and went down the treacherous Chemin Frédéric Nietzsche to Èze sur Mer. Which was actually kind of terrifying, but by the time it got to that, I was already half way down and was not going to be going back up. And it was worth it. The view coming into Èze s/Mer was worth it. Afterwards I took the train to Monaco where I effectively spent my time getting lost, which was probably made worse by the fact they were preparing for the Grand Prix race and it was a maze of half up stands and detours. But what I did get to see, of my lost walk, was that it is gorgeous and one day I will go back and be all James Bond, Casino Royale, except you know: Jane Bond.
Things I’m Loving:
+ This recipe – (I’ve made a butchered version and it was lovely. I can’t wait to try the real thing.)
+ This article – (Which gave me a lot to think about.)
+ This blog – (She makes me laugh and I like laughing.)
+ This playlist – (The coffeeshop playlist without the coffeeshop.)
+ These places – (What’s another place to visit on my list?)