Just in time, my health returned soon enough for me to feel interested in having a look around Nice. It almost didn’t happen. Rachael and I went out for lunch because we have such an early departure tomorrow that we didn’t think an evening meal was the best plan. I had a couple of glasses of wine with lunch and thought I might go back to the room for a bit first before going out again, but changed my mind on the walk back to the hotel and just kept walking when Rachael headed back for a nap. The right idea obviously - who knows if this 76 year old man will really find the spirit to stir again once he’s in repose?
We’ve been in Nice a few times now. We passed through here in 1993, 1994, and 2003 without really seeing any of the old city other than to check out restaurants. We went to the Chagall and Matisse Museums, the Russian Orthodox Church, the waterfront promenade of course, and biked the high corniche through Eze and Monte Carlo - but I never really poked around the old city. I’m not sure I was even that interested in old cities back then, to be honest - and I’ve ended up feeling fairly lukewarm about Nice itself - it’s a large, sprawling coastal city, expensive, tourism driven, and not the easiest to escape by bike unless you just follow the coast. We’re here this time really because it’s a logical endpoint and we got such a great deal on the airfare, and we’re only here for this long of a stay because of our now-obsolete plans for buying suitcases for the flight home. Otherwise, we’d probably have just stayed here two nights - packed up, grabbed a pair of meals, maybe walk out to the Chagall museum again, and efficiently headed for the exit.
Walking around this afternoon was a strange, very bittersweet experience. First of all, I loved it. Seeing the back lanes of the old city was a new experience for me and completely changed my feelings about Nice. The waterfront, the color and texture of these back streets, and the hills that we rise up right behind them create a marvelous atmosphere with a real magic to it. I left feeling like I was just scratching the surface.
On the other hand, I returned to the room with just a bit of a heavy heart. Are we really going back? So soon? Schengen would have let us stay another ten days, and it feels like we’re leaving some money on the table.
Someday maybe I’ll come back and add a few more captions here, but we’ve got a plane to catch. For now I just want to make sure we remember why we’d want to come back.
Place Massena, Nice’s primary public space. Our hotel is just two blocks to the right of the end of the square. Very strategically located - Napalm Bike is only a half mile away, for just one example.
Place Massena again. Nice would be a fine place to wander around after dark. We were surprised the next morning on the way to the airport that the pole squatters are all illuminated, in different pastel hues.
In Place Massena. Prior to the mid 19th century, Nice was essentially a divided city, split here by the Paillon River that now runs beneath the unifying plaza.
Another departure. I was surprised to learn that the Nice airport is France’s third largest, after only Paris’ DeGaulle and Orly. It seemed so small when we biked to it along the promenade and flew out from here in 1994! Biking to the airport along the sea before sunrise and seeing that the beach volleyball was already underway is one of our best early memories of Nice.
Jacquie GaudetYour street photos brought back very distant memories (1981) but I'd like this sign better if it were in French. Or are hashtags only in English? I'll have to check. Reply to this comment 1 year ago
