Cote d'Azur

Mr. Nice Guy

            My first day in Nice got a slightly late start, as I was very wearied by the previous day’s travels.  I was an hour and half late arriving in Nice, thanks to the Italians who cared roughly 0% that we were running late.  Seriously, how does a 4-hour trip take 5 hours?  We had no breakdowns.  We did sit still for quite some time at each stop, however, even though nobody was boarding or disembarking, ostensibly so the train conductor could take a little catnap before resuming.

            I set out to explore Nice by foot.  The first thing I found was a big hill with lots of stairs and an ever-so-slightly castle-y thingy on top.  I climbed said hill and burst forth in sweat.  Even at 10:30am, Nice was hot, with nary a breeze.  I got to the top to find that communists had taken it over.  No, seriously, there was a communist rally (quick aside: I saw a clothing store in town called “Pinko” that I desperately wanted to photograph , but my camera was misbehaving), with tents, tables, propaganda, and – yes – hammer and sickle flags.  Many of the commies were also wearing all manner of anti-Israel and pro-“Palestine” apparel, plus they were sporting posters spreading the same idea.

Breakfast my first morning in Nice.  I had no idea what it was, so I went for it.  Turns out it was a sweet caramelized onion pizza-ish thingy.  It tasted almost like candy.

My reward for sweating up to the top of the hill

And again

Gulls chilling in a fountain on a hot Nice day

Les Hommes du Fer

            I happened upon Nice during the Ironman Triathlon competition.  While I was strolling the beach, the two frontrunners (frontcyclists?) of the race were approaching the cycle stage finish line (right when I was passing the area).  Moments later, they ran past me in the opposite direction.  Even though they had just swum 2.4 miles and cycled 100 miles in serious heat, and they were now just beginning a marathon, they were running faster than I do when I’m completely fresh.  That put things into perspective for me.

Iron men

Since I’m Eating Humble Pie . . .

            Let’s talk about food!  Gosh, but do the French know how to do it.  It’s everywhere, it’s amazing quality, and it’s affordable.  At the corner store, you can buy a liter and half of Perrier for a buck.  Almost half a pound of paté goes for 2.  Well, pre-packaged paté, but still!  Same with decent sized portions of prosciutto, carpaccio, and all those lovely delicacies that are so hard to find back home and which cost an arm and a leg.  In France, it’s almost peasant food.  

            In fact, after walking around sweating all day, I found myself quite famished in mid-evening and I couldn’t resist the sign I saw outside a patio restaurant: Antipasti buffet with drink for about twelve bucks.  It really was all-you-can-eat prosciutto, carpaccio, etcetera, plus marinated artichokes, grilled red peppers, and so many awesome munchies like seasoned and sauteed eggplant, cauliflower, little pizza-ish things, croutes, and more.  I have rarely felt so justified or so satisfied indulging in a little hedonistic eating.

Plate one of two.  oops.  By the way, that's fresh mozzarella on the left, not sunny side up quail eggs :)

            And then there’s more.  There were so many freshly-made awesome things to eat that I could have eaten all day long.  Thankfully I didn’t, but I wish I could find stuff like this back home.  For $3 from a street vendor, you can get a croque monsieur with several slices of chevre basking on top.  Not a balanced meal, but oh!  What a great way to grab a bite.  

This kind of stuff was everywhere

            I did try something: I learned that socca (pronounced “soo-kah”) is the local flavor, something very nicoise.  I heard it involved lots of vegetables and meat.  In practice, it looked like a cross between a pancake and pan-fried cheese.  It also tasted like a cross between the two.  Which is to say, awesome.  Still, I wonder: whence the vegetable and meat reference?  I’ll let you know if I find out.

Travels in and Around Nice

            Nice creates an ambivalence in me.  On one hand, it’s pretty and quaint.  On the other, it’s just another (slightly dirty) tourist town.  It has a beach*, bars, shopping bizarres, and great weather.  In some ways, it is merely a more historic and European version of a Mexican resort town.  It didn’t feel welcoming, and few people seemed happy.  Until I someday return and really get to know the town (I recognize that my long hikes through town cannot give me the whole picture), I must file it under “A nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.”

            * -- a gravelly beach, no less!  But interestingly, a couple towns down the coast, they have sandy beaches.  Go figure.

The plaza where I was staying

I stayed in an apartment in the building beyond the statue.  Central location, quite swell.

View from the other side of town, up another giant hill.  All on foot in crazy heat, baby!

The Nicois.  The most expert parallel parkers I've found.

The buildings don't actually curve, it's just my camera.  Or is it the photographer?

The coast.  How azure!

            Somewhere a great deal more livable, it seems, is a little inland.  I took the train* to Aix en Provence because I heard it’s cute and because I’d had enough Nice after two nights and one day.  What a neat place!  It’s easily twice the town.  Real people seem to live and shop there.  In fact, you could completely skip Nice and just hit Aix en Provence.  The tourists remain scant and well-hidden, the shopping consists of more real items instead of tourist trinkets, and the city is a great deal prettier.  It feels less ritzy but more quality.  Put it on your list of stops next time you’re in the area.

            * -- well, and the bus.  The TGV doesn’t actually go to the town, so you must take a bus from the train station to town.  Goodbye, money!  Dude, a new fee is hiding behind every corner in Europe.  

A tiny slice of Provence as seen from the TGV

Vines!

Notice how much more friendly Aix en Provence looks.  What a difference from Nice.

What a difference a few trees can make

Oh that I lived somewhere that a motocycle was more practical than a car

When's the last time you saw working shutters in America?

          

Just Can’t Wait to Get Back on the Road Again

            The bus ride was awesome for a strange reason: it wasn’t a train.  I sat in the front and could actually see the world and get a sense for the countryside.  This train business is great for the locals who just want to take a quick jaunt up the countryside, but not for exploring and getting a sense for that countryside.  This trip has definitely solidified the fact that I’m a Road Warrior, not a Rail Rider.

It doesn't look like much, but it was so good for my soul

           

Can Wait Even Less to Get Off the Road For Once

            It is going to be great to arrive in Israel, where I won’t have to catch any more trains or planes for a whole month.  I’m ready to resume life under my control again, without being frustrated at every other turn by common carriers’ schedules or errors.

            I’ve been complaining about the trains too much, so I will get off the subject.  You already know what I think.   You don’t need to hear about how it took me three trips to the train station to arrange my trip to Budapest, including the “come back tomorrow” I got once after waiting in line.  Let’s resume the chat about fun stuffs.

Another 24 Hours of Train Travel

The Night Train

           

            I thought the night train would have seats for waking hours, then sleeper cars for sleepytime.  Nope.  You either get a reclining seat (less refreshing to sleep on) or a cot with no seat (not as great for watching scenery).  They were out of reclining seats (more affordable), so I got a hard, narrow cot in a room with 3 others.  Since the train left at 8:30, I thought people would stay up for a while.  Not the guys in my room.  When in Rome . . .

            It was fun to finally sleep on a train.  I’ve heard of these sleeper berths and always wondered what it was like to snooze in one.  Verdict: it’s about ten times better than trying to sleep in an airplane seat.  I recommend it, only not in Norway, where it costs $150 extra.  My cot last night was only about $55 extra, or similar to some hostels.  Arriving hundreds of miles away fully refreshed is definitely a picker-upper on a long journey like this.

This is the cabin with only 4 beds in use.  They actually have 6 available.  Mercifully, only four of us sardines were packed in there.

            I needed the sleep, apparently, as I got over 10 hours of it.  I slept all the way through Germany, sadly, and saw none of it.  I got up about ½ an hour before arriving in Zurich.   Speaking of . . .

Zurich

            You may recall that I saw Zurich from the air on my way to Europe and thought that I would like to visit someday.  I’m so happy that I was able to do that because of this Plan B journey to Nice.  The lockers in the train station worked, so I was able to tour downtown without my shoulders protesting under the strain of carrying my pack. 

            Zurich was the most “European” feeling city I have yet visited.  Pretty architecture, narrow alleys, windy streets, all that stuff.  It was also very clean and tidy, unlike A’dam.  Humorously, watchmakers seem to be the most common kind of shop downtown.  Like in Norway, there were also all kinds of outdoor apparel and supplies providers.  Fact: outdoorsy people keep their cities clean.

Can't say I've seen a store like this before

These are delicious!

In a city known for its huge market in the financial world they keep an AED by the phone . . . apparently some people get some pretty bad news from time to time.

Another nice 1st-class lounge at the train station.  Yes, those watches in the display case are for sale

Swiss Visages

            The Swiss have a distinct look.  They look just like their position on the map would suggest: German, French, and Italian influences all appear, although they look distinct from each.  One interesting Swiss feature I saw over and over is a general pointiness to their faces.  Noses and chins just seem pointy.  Even their brows seem to point, because their eyes are sunk deeper in their sockets.

            But I’m sure that’s all you wanted to know about Swiss facial features, or probably more.

            So let me move on to their bodily proportions, then.

            Haha just kidding, I won’t go into it.  Although they do seem a little bit short, unless that’s just their contrast to the (tall) Dutch messing with my head.

The use of life-like mannequins is also a first!

           

Zug

           

            It amuses me very much, as a potential future tax attorney (plans subject to change without notice), to have just ridden through the Swiss town, just south of Zurich, of Zug.  Zug has gained a lot of notoriety lately as a tax haven town, and some Americans aren’t happy about it (especially those who work at the IRS and those who don’t like it when businesses save money legally instead of giving it to the government to buy votes with entitlement spending wisely allocate).  Some US companies have “located” in Zug, where they are taxed minimally, to save money.  They typically have to move a single employee to Zug.  What a job that would be: “What do you do?” – “Oh, I’m a patsy.  I relocated here so my company can say it has an office here even though all the work is done in the USA.”

            Sadly, my camera was acting up again in Zug, and my photos were all garbage. 

Swiss Scenery

            Norway was beautiful, but Switzerland is amazing.  There are breathtakingly pretty lakes everywhere.  Cute alpine cottages dot a landscape replete with treed green hills and meadows framed by (sometimes snow-capped) craggy mountains.  Of course, waterfalls and plunging river gorges frequently whiz past my window.  Unfortunately, they whiz past so quickly that I can’t seem to get any of them on camera.  I will persevere and try to find you a few.  I’m not one to buy souvenirs for everybody, but I certainly do like to obtain cool photos for you.

Crazy Train

            This Italian-run train from Zurich to Milan is pretty crazy.  Their “1st class” seating has less room than does German 2nd class.  Some of the doors to get in (and out!) of the train don’t work, 2 of 3 restrooms I tried were out of order, and the one working restroom I found was out of handsoap, while its water barely trickled out of the faucet.  There is no internet available, even though it’s supposed to be a top of the line international train.  While first class seating in every other country includes unlimited hot drinks and sometimes a snack, here they want $6 for a small brewed coffee.  Even in Norway it’s only $4 if you really must pay.  Go Italy.

Moments Later

            The next train was even awesomer.  Pulling into Milan 10 minutes late left me with 10 minutes to find my next train.  Thankfully, Milan was the first station I’ve seen where all the tracks are actually in numerical order, with none hidden beyond corridors, escalators, tunnels, or stairs.  The only obstacle here was several tons of biomass moving very slowly, apparently with much time to make its next train.  I did manage to make it on with time to spare to fight over my seat.  The man knew the word in Italian for 24, he just couldn’t seem to read the number posted next to the seat.

            My new train, from which I currently write, has less space and less efficient air conditioning.  It’s a good thing my computer has batteries, too, as the power keeps cutting out.  The restroom toilet has only a hole leading to the tracks below.  Sorry for littering on you, Italy, but you left me no choice.

            Next stop Ventimiglia, on the French border, from where I catch a local train into Nice. 

Ancient structure at Milan train station.  I wonder what it was used for.  There were at least a couple of them, maybe more.

about 1/2 the Milan station.  So old-fashioned, so navigable

 Things are looking brighter

            No, really, things do look brighter here.  As soon as we started descending into Italy from the alps, I could tell the sun shines much hotter here.  The colors are warm, not gray.  It’s the first I’ve seen of such bright, warm colors in a long time.  Hooray for shorts and t-shirt weather!