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.
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| 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. |
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| My reward for sweating up to the top of the hill |
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| And again |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| The plaza where I was staying |
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| I stayed in an apartment in the building beyond the statue. Central location, quite swell. |
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| View from the other side of town, up another giant hill. All on foot in crazy heat, baby! |
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| The Nicois. The most expert parallel parkers I've found. |
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| The buildings don't actually curve, it's just my camera. Or is it the photographer? |
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| 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.
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| A tiny slice of Provence as seen from the TGV |
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| Vines! |
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| Notice how much more friendly Aix en Provence looks. What a difference from Nice. |
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| What a difference a few trees can make |
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| Oh that I lived somewhere that a motocycle was more practical than a car |
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| 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.
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| 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.
