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!
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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:
OOOh…How I envy you! Never been to France but thanks to your blog, it was a delightful read, that I would think you work for a Travel Industry. With vivid description and eye for details.
I went to Nice two yrs ago, and im dying to go back, meanwhile, is there a jennifer.fr?