If Paris can sometimes feel like France on steroids (especially down in the metro during rush hour), then Nice is France on valium. Everyone walks about 50% slower. Cars honk 60% less. And people are about 30% friendlier. (yeah, these are official statistics, by the way…) I’d chalk it up to the clutch seaside location [snug between Cannes & Monte Carlo], the palm trees, and the generally sunny weather. But what do I know?

When we arrived in the town center, my brilliant architectural mind observed “huh, this reminds me, sort of, er, like Paris, but in different colors”. I think it was the shutters and ironwork that triggered the connection. But instead of snooty black iron on white buildings, you have a happy mix of summer colors: light green on terra cotta, white on ochre yellow. It was a nice effect, and as I do in just about every city these days, I thought “hmmm, wouldn’t it be nice to own a flat here?”

With just one afternoon of time to kill, we strolled down the main drag — avenue Jean Médicin — popping our heads into the usual Frenchy chain stores to take a break from the chill: Monoprix (sort of like Target, but with food), Marionnaud (perfume), Promod (chickwear), Sephora (more perfume), and Minelli (shoes). Not much caught my eye other than some gourmet apple juice, a few bars of Savon du Marseilles (handsoap) to restock our cupboards, and my favorite French shampoo – Leonor Greyl (totally exorbitant but worth every euro!).

We arrived at the harbor just in time for a cloudy sunset. After dodging rollerbladers to get across the boardwalk, we snagged a well-located bench and literally chilled out in the 5C temperatures. When I closed my eyes and blocked out the hum of cars, I heard only the thousands of birds chirping in the trees right behind us, and the sound of small waves breaking on the pebbly beach.

On the way back, we ducked into Le Ritz Brasserie for a warmup. Glory be, they had an entire menu consisting only of gourmet hot chocolate drinks! Chocolate with orange and cinnamon, chocolate with cream and coconut, chocolate with banana, chocolate with hazelnut. The selection was overwhelming, so I tossed aside the menu and ordered a glass of champagne. Soenke got his usual chocolate crêpe and cappuccino. From the vantage of our indoor window seat, I watched the masses pass by and was surprised to note how many women were in nearly-full-length fur coats. I hope these were FAKE, ladies!

Dinner was a simple Italian spread at Restaurant Venezia; most of the entertainment was watching the elderly Italian husband-&-wife owners argue with each other, and observing their old dog hobble around the restaurant looking for scraps (high health department standards in the south of France). The husband was a fashion fireball in his burnt orange shirt, bright red sweater vest, flaming yellow tie, and red-rimmed glasses. The lady at the table behind us was stone drunk. It was all a little surreal.

At the airport the following morning, a TV was set up in the waiting room for passengers to watch a helpful documentary on the techniques of playing foosball (table soccer).

I left Nice feeling, well, a little bewildered. I’d never seen this side of “French”. It was almost startling to realize that yes, there ARE French cities other than Paris…. and this one felt good!

——————

Another gratuitous shot of the Alps (en route to Nice):

A colorful corner:

Soenke checks out the goods at Monoprix:

This building reminds me more of Bologna than Paris:

Nice’s Cote d’Azur:

Another gorgeous sunset:

Look, I got some tricky little things for my hair:

Everyone loves a ferris wheel:

I decided that have a love/not-so-love relationship with Germany around Christmastime – 90% love, 10% not-so-love. For the 10%…I totally miss the creative and wild Christmas light displays in California (especially at my parents’ house where reindeers blink in the window and running colored lights frame everything frameable in the front of the house). Also, my body objects mightily to the sub-zero temperatures in Germany…. I yearn for those 70s temps and bright sunshine we usually enjoy in So Cal on Christmas!

My heart, however, is totally warmed by the candle lights in just about every German window, the festive Christmas markets, the children in tiny little parkas (and sometimes even Santa hats), and the way the Einkaufszentrums elegantly do-it-up with the Christmas décor. Inside our own Einkaufszentrum, they had set up a long row of Christmas market booths in the grand hallways, selling everything from handmade wooden/straw/blown-glass Christmas ornaments, various chocolates, handknit woolen scarves, nuts (so many nuts!), dates, tasty STOLIN (see below), and many other Christmas specialties. A glance upward surprised me with thousands of gold stars suspended at every height from the curved arcade-style ceiling.

My taste buds have been most delighted by the discovery of “stolin”, a scrumptious fruity/nutty/buttery German bread, covered in powdered sugar, made only at Christmastime. Soenke and I went through loaves and loaves of it, dreading the day when Christmas would be over and the stolin would be gone…

I was perhaps less delighted with north Germany’s beloved Christmas cuisine known as “grünkohl”, which apparently is a very special treat. It is some sort of dark green cabbage which cooked and chopped then sold in a jar. One serves it heated in a big bowl, accompanied by spicy mustard which you liberally stir throughout the cabbage once it hits your plate. It shares the table with plates of strange pig dishes: Wurst (a thick sausage), Schweinebacke (pig buttocks with loads of jellied fat clinging to the slight bit of meat), and some smoked pork as well. You must serve the mustard and grünkohl with ALL three of these strange pork dishes. Not one to scorn a fine tradition, Soenke’s mom invited me over for a special Sunday grünkohl lunch. I reserved my rights to just LOOK, not EAT, but had to admit that the cabbage and mustard made a surprisingly delicious combination (the spiciness certainly cleared out my sinuses), and a sampling of the Wurst proved it to be pretty darn edible.

Not long ago, we had the first big snow of the season. Soenke was off flying; I came downstairs one morning and the huge bay window in our living room greeted me with a beautiful winter wonderland! I squealed with delight and ran outside on our balcony to touch it and play with it (hope my neighbors didn’t see that). Everything was fluffy white white white! Being a California girl, this was EXCITING STUFF. I couldn’t believe I actually lived in a place where there was snow at Christmas! (The joy soon waned when I felt again how COLD snow is, and experienced how unpredictable it is to drive on…)

Shortly after our return from Dubai, we ventured to my favorite place… Hamburg’s own American behemoth WAL MART (pronounced “VAHL-mart”, all two gigantic floors of it) in order to stock up on Christmas ornaments and buy a little tree. It was also at Wal-Mart that I made an exciting discovery: the only bottle of Caesar salad dressing in Hamburg! (Germans seem to prefer Thousand Island dressing, which they call “American dressing”.)

This year was my first Christmas away from my family. Soenke’s family did a marvelous job standing in, with a fantastic Christmas Eve at their home. First stop was church, where we sung Christmas carols in German and I actually could understand a bit of the message as the pastor spoke very slowly (probably so that the small children in the congregation could keep up). I especially enjoyed the church bells which enthusiastically rang before and after the service. Back at the house, we opened presents and feasted on raclettes for dinner. If you’re not familiar with raclettes, a special grill is placed on the table, and everyone grills up their own food morsels in little individual pans: meats, shrimp, cheeses, vegetables, even pineapple. Scrumptious!

Soenke & I decided to celebrate our own Christmas a few days earlier with just a lovely night out together (in lieu of gifts to each other). We attended a British comedy play at the English Theater in Hamburg, preceded by a delicious meal at “T.R.U.D.E.”. Outside is displayed a “trude”, which is the name of the drill that dug the first tunnel going under the Elbe River in Hamburg.

EARLY Christmas Day, Soenke had to fly, and I joined him. We got up at 4am. Ouch.

But the silver lining soon appeared: the captain let me sit with them in the cockpit on our flight to Munich! And so I watched the sun rise on a BEAUTIFUL new Christmas Day; it started as a brilliant pink glow, then eventually crept over the clouds and flooded the top of the Alps with warm light. I sat in deep appreciation of the moment…then took a morning nap!

We continued to Belgrade, back to the hotel of the world famous hot-chocolate massage (see my writeup on Serbia). Unfortunately for me, the hotel’s spa was out of chocolate oil!! (what?!) But we did enjoy a fantastic Christmas dinner with a few other members of the crew, including Captain Schymura and the purserette.

Boxing Day found us flying to Frankfurt, picking up a new captain, and heading for Milano then Stuttgart. I simply tagged along, again sitting in the cockpit and keeping an eye on things. I appointed myself as the new Check Captain…. Oh, excuse me, CHICK Captain, & made sure we were flying in the right direction and that neither of the pilots were sleeping! I’m sure they appreciated all my help. Every minute in the very uncomfortable jump seat was more than worth it … watching my babe do his sexy airplane stuff…. listening to the funky radio communications (“India Niner Echo, requesting pushback…”)…gaping at the gorgeous Alps… I am such a lucky girl!

And so I wish you all a Happy Holidays !

———–

A winter wonderland in Hamburg:

Our little Christmas tree:

Soenke’s happy family on Christmas Eve:

I’m enjoying the raclettes:

Our new doormat! :

Soenke looks pretty good at 4am on Christmas day:

I found Santa Claus loitering in the Munich airport!:

Checking out the cockpit:

Soenke does his flying thing (aided by a genuine Italian cappucino from Milano):

As the Chick Captain, I keep an eye on everything: