A mazingly, on the morning of Wednesday, 24th July, 2002, we managed to drag ourselves out of bed before the breakfast service ended at 10am. My eyes felt tight, my head heavy. When we left the hotel to check out the local area, I was amazed by how humid it was. Althought we were in the Mediterranean, part of me had expected that the sea would provide a cool breeze every now and then, but no. We strolled along the sea front, towards the Old Town which was buzzing with people. The Old Town was packed with loads of tourists shops selling anything from beachwear to French arts and crafts.
We headed to the promenade and noticed the Chateau which towered over the cliff. Ascending the many steps, we looked back and enjoyed the views of the Cote D'Azur. In the distance, you could see Nice Airport, its runway clearly visible, the heat emanating from it on this rather hot day. I contemplated a visit to the enticing beach, but I had burnt myself the previous day in Zermatt. Zermatt itself was now becoming yet another memory and it was hard to believe we had only been there the previous day.
I headed back to the hotel about 3pm, napping until 7pm. After that, we headed out for some dinner. By reputation, the Old Town is the place to be in the evenings so, donning smart clothes, we headed in that direction. When we arrived, there was an outdoor evening market in full swing, street performers entertaining the crowds. We found a place that sold Italian food and parked out butts! Good food, a bottle of Rose, nice climate, upbeat atmosphere and a welcome change of scenery. What more could anybody want? I was just glad that we had finally reached out final destination!
The next day, we headed towards Monaco, stopping at a place called Cap Ferrat on the way. We paid a visit to the Villa Ile de France, recommended by a friend of Bree's. The Villa is decorated with the treasures of the baronness Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild (1862-1934) who, inspired by her travels, created seven gardens designed around several themes, celebrating Spanish, Florentine and Japanese styles and also featuring a Rose Garden. The place has stunning gardens, from which you are afforded wonderful views along the Cote.
After lunch, we headed to Monaco, the home of the world renowned Grimaldi Family (Monaco's own royal family). The Prinicipality is littered with amazingly plush hotels, its harbour featuring luxurious yachts of immense size. We took a walk along the harbour, ending up outside the infamous Monte Carlo Casino. When we left Monaco late in the afternoon, we filled up the car with petrol before listening to some music by Madison Avenue. The scenery blended in well with the groovy beat and we pulled into a car park next to a very enticing beach where we spent a couple of hours swimming in the warm sea and enjoying the remains of the day's sun.
The next day, we visited Antibes and Cannes. The town of Antibes sits right on the sea, a town of worn terracotta. One of its star attractions is the Picasso Museum at the Chateau Grimaldi which we paid a relatively cheap entry fee to enter. Pablo Picasso spent of portion of his career on the shores of the English Rivierra. He worked at the Chateau during the Autumn of 1946 and, four months later, donated 181 drawings and paintings to the town of Antibes. I am no lover of art, but sometimes it's nice to just visit these places so that your mind has an opportunity to focus on a painting or sculpture and 'see' something different. It was nice to enter the cool interior of the museum and, fortunately, it wasn't that busy. After our visit, we drove to neighbouring Cannes, home to the internationally recognised Cannes Film Festival.
Cannes looked very similar to Nice, a nice long promenade stretching a length of beach, posh villas gracing the seatfront. We parked the car and strolled along the beach, eventually reaching the venue of the Cannes Film Festival. Walking around to the front of the venue, we noticed that the red carpet was there. Bree couldn't resist a pose and, yes, we took photos! Otherwise, Cannes wasn't overly impressive. When we returned to the car, I suggested we drive back along the way we came and see if we could find a nice beach to enjoy some of the sun. We did indeed find a nice beach, one littered with lots of noisy French families. After taking a dip in the warm sea, we enjoyed the contents of our pre-prepared picnic. By now, we were both starting to look a little bit pink, but we remained on the beach as the sun dipped, once more, towards the horizon.
When we got back to our hotel that night, we decided to track down a gay bar to be around people like ourselves. Having done some research on the internet, I found a bar about 2kms away so after a nice dinner in the centre of town (I had developed a penchant for Mozarella Salad during this trip), we walked off our dinner as we headed west. We eventually found the place and were disappointed - it was expensive to get in and buy drinks, the venue itself looked like it was the cheapest place you could possibly rent and the music was absolutely awful. That wasn't to mention the mob of french guys who had overdosed on garlic AND had forgotten to put on deodorant. Uuurggghhhh!
The night hadn't been a late one and when we woke up on the Saturday morning, we had the energy for yet another day of sightseeing. Our plan for the day was to visit the Palace of the Grimaldi's in Monaco. Seeing Monaco for the second time, I had to wonder what all the drama is about the place. Yes, it's full of rich bitches and lovely houses and awesome yachts. Yes, it's got a beautiful casino and enjoys advantageous tax breaks, but I venture this question: are the people who live here any happier than those who live in neighbouring France or Italy?
We left Monaco, venturing even further east towards Italy. Without our passports, we drove straight through the checkpoint to a place just 10km inside Italy, called Menton. I had always had an intention to sample Italian Pizza one day and, on this day, I had that chance. Yes, the pizza does taste different and, just like everyone says, it is much better and tastes 'more' than the usual varieties were are used to. Next time you go to Pizza Hut, remember this blog entry because what you're eating is completely and utter fodder! After our late lunch, we walked to a nearby market square. There were a number of trees where locals had gathered beneath to shield themselves from the sun. We browsed around the stores, eventually coming across an off license. We left the off-license with five bottles of booze, including Chivaz Whisky and Bacardi, all for less than ‚¬50! What a bargain, I thought! Once again, the day had flown by and we headed back to Nice. The traffic was heavy as motorists spilled into Nice on this wonderfully warm Saturday summernight.
Back in our hotel room, we took turns to shower and I poured us an ice cold Bacardi & Coke. We got out the map and marked all the places where we had been to. What a fantastic trip it had been and it was far from over! Until now, I had never even visited mainland Europe apart from my move to Finland. It was Saturday evening and we decided to do some evening souvenir shopping. With the huge volume of touristic t-shirts on sale, we decided to see who could buy the wackiest t-shirt for the other. As we shopped, I noticed two guys kiss each other on the other side of the street as one of them entered a buildng through a door with a neon sign above it. Taking a closer look, it materialised that this was a gay club barely 100 metres from our hotel and that we had walked 2 miles just the night before to visit what seemed, after extensive searching on the internet, to be the only gay bar in Nice!
Later in the evening, having taken our souvenirs back to the nearby hotel, we paid a visit to the club. Instantly more modern than the hell hole we had visited the night before, the same whiffs of BO and garlic filled the air as we danced to some pretty cool sounds. What is it about the French and the Spanish, refusing to use deodorant? And why can't the French tone it down on the garlic? It ain't smart and it certainly ain't attractive! We stayed at the club a few hours, taking this opportunity on our holiday to enjoy a drink and have a dance.
When I woke up on the Sunday, I was starting to feel tired from the trip. We had been so active, seeing different things all the time and the heat in France continued. I was slightly burnt by this time during the trip so we made an effort to do some indoor stuff. We drove to Grasse, perfume capital of the world, a countryside town nestling inbetween Cannes and St. Tropez. Queen Victoria vacationed here many times and Napoleon himself is known to have paid a visit. Perfume has been made in Grasse since the 16th Century so we decided to pay a visit to Fragonard, one of France's oldest perfumers. I am by no means a big fan of perfumes, or even aftershave for that matter, but it was amazing to see how much science was involved in the production of scents. Leafy hills tower above the town of Grasse and, after a wonder through it's quaint old town of 17th and 18th Century buildings, we were back in the car (which took us a while to find, as we got lost!) and on our way to St. Tropez.
The traffic towards St. Tropez was quite something - I guess people wanted to head to the famed beaches on this rather hot Sunday. Despite the hype surrounding St. Tropez as a magnet for trendy jetsetters, I have to say that the place is overrated. And my opinion of the place was not enhanced when, having laid face down for a period of time on the sandy beach, I lifted an arm to find it smothered - and stinking - of dog shit! Yikes! Who would have thought of such a thing happening in St. Tropez?! We remained on the beach, tucking into some fruit we had bought with us, watching the sun go down behind some nearby hills. When it was time to pack up, we started the long drive back to Nice. It took about and hour and a half before to get back as motorists clogged up the popular roads once more.
We got back to Nice after 9pm and took McDonalds (oh, so common!) back to our hotel room. Greasy from the sun cream and glowing from all the sun exposure, neither of us could be bothered to dress up. Instead, we downed our burgers and went out, still in our shorts, for an ice cream and a wander around Nice's surprisingly busy city centre. Nice is a nice city, but much busier than I expected it to be. Like Italian cities, the town is mobbed with cars, the air filled every now and then with the noisy drone of a distant moped! We got into bed early that night.
Today would be our last morning in Nice... After breakfast, we headed into the Old Town once more. While Bree checked out the craft stores, I assumed the role of photographer, capturing the charm of the old time. After a few hours, we headed back to the hotel, checked out and loaded our car in the nearby multi story car park. Our stay on the French Rivierra had been quite an expensive one, but some memories are worth paying for. After all, there's no such thing as a free lunch!
Am I the only one who seems to think that service ain't what it used to be? When I was a kid and we went out for dinner as a family, staff would wait on you hand and foot, rushing back and forth to see if there was anything they could do to make your meal that little bit more of a pleasant experience. And don't get me started on the Chinese. They always seem to be in a rush in an obvious bid to increase table turnover. Fuck off! I am paying to have a nice meal so don't ply me with more food until I'm ready, bitch! I am not paying you to give me indigestion, geddit?
