Ooh La La
Feeling extra energetic this morning (well that coupled with the guilt from overindulging in French cakes) Ross and Sam ventured out for a run along the Promenade to start the day. Toby was also out the door early; his mission to bring us back some fresh baguettes for breakfast.
As we crossed the threshold of our building, out into the heat of the morning, our ears were rewarded with some beautiful piano accordion music, with the tinkling of a tambourine punctuating occasionally. It sounded SO French – loud and live – but we couldn’t work out where it was coming from. I had a thought it might be the French Mr Whippy. It was getting louder and soon the young minstrels came into full view. They were just wandering the streets of Nice playing beautiful music to the people out of the goodness of their hearts. Well that’s what I thought as I whipped out my phone and started filming them. They made a beeline for us and held aloft a cup for collection. Uh oh. We didn’t have a Euro to our names and my family were quietly excoriating me for not being more subtle with the camera. “As if they wouldn’t want money Mum!” Sam had a ten euro cent piece in his pocket and saved the day.
Walking to the beach was impossible without a quick stop at our favourite patisserie. Those cakes are unbelievably delicious! The beach was a bit windy but the sun was beating down. Our wintry little white bodies were still pretty pasty so we slip, slop, slapped in preparation. Some of us were more diligent in the ‘slopping’ department than others and in the excitement of being here in the exotic French Riviera, forgot to reapply. Consequently there are some sore and sunburnt Joneses right now. At least if the power goes out we can use Toby as a glowing beacon to light the room.
It’s very bizarre to have a beach without sand. The whole beach is covered in medium-sized, smooth pebbles. We saw many people get up for a swim with deep indents in their backs from where the rocks had dug into them as they reclined. It’s also a little problematic when it comes to securing the old beach umbrella. You can’t really dig but rather move rocks aside and try to wedge it between enough pebbles to keep it in place. On a couple of occasions, umbrellas uprooted from their rocky nests and cartwheeled across the beach terrorising peaceful sun bakers. Ross and Sam were narrowly missed by a runaway brolly! Though comfort and sandcastle-building have to be sacrificed when there is no sand, there is one big benefit we all enjoyed – no sand in your daks! No need to shake your towel, wash your feet or empty your gusset. How good is that? The rocks are a bit rough on the tootsies, especially when you’re not used to it. I was ‘ow-ing’ and ‘ouch-ing’ my way to the water each time.
There are guys constantly pacing the beach with eskies slung over their backs, chanting in their sing-song voices: “Beer, Water, Coca Cola, Juices”. You don’t even have to extricate your derrière from the towel. What good service. There was also a watermelon man, offering big slabs of cold watermelon pre-cut for convenience. It was delicious. Maisy had never eaten watermelon with black seeds in it! Too much genetic modifying I say. The boys had fun shooting pips at each other.
After lunch we employed Sam’s exceptional navigational skills to get us on the right bus to head to the Matisse Gallery. Being a big Matisse fan, I was really excited about seeing the gallery but Toby and Maisy were fairly vocally opposed. We arrived to find the Museum was set in a big grassy park and there was a substantial crowd enjoying the mellow classical tones of a sizeable orchestra. People were seated in rows with picnickers on the outskirts, lunching and playing boules. Maisy and Tobes spread out a towel and enjoyed the atmosphere and the music while we enjoyed the colourful artworks of Henri Matisse. Win-win!
The bus trip home was a bit more challenging. We were second guessing which bus stop was ours and as we waited with stylishly-dressed, beautifully-hatted grandmas who didn’t speak a word of English, we wondered if the bus would ever come. Eventually a no.15 bus arrived but we were waiting for a no. 22. Just before the doors shut, I popped my head through the opening and with the Taylor Swift TWENTY-TWO fingers, enquired as to when that bus might come.
“Zis iz 22”, he informed me. He’d just forgotten to change the number. Phew.
We’ve noticed a real lack of chivalry in France. The Spaniards were quick to offer up their seats to older passengers or women. In contrast, in France it seems, it’s every man for himself. Bags seem to take priority on seats, over elderly passengers with walking sticks who are struggling to stay upright in the lurching bus. Men race to grab seats leaving all the women to stand and we haven’t seen any kids give up their comfy perches for their elders. I guess it’s a cultural thing.
Tonight we visited a church in Nice – the International Church – and it was great! The people there were so friendly and welcoming and we really enjoyed it. We had a walk around afterwards and found a cool shopping district with a wide checkerboard plaza. It had a series of tall poles scattered around and atop each pole was a statue of a kneeling or squatting man. After dark they lit up in all different colours and were so cool. There was also a big, rectangular area which, at first glance looked like a pond. It was only a couple of centimetres deep so you could walk on it giving the illusion you were walking on water. Everyone set off down the middle of the ‘pond’, enjoying the novelty when suddenly, very unexpectedly, water jets shot out of the ground all over the place, scaring and soaking most of the punters. Miraculously, we all stayed relatively dry! The restaurant district in Nice’s old town was pumping with people and coloured lights strung across the street added to the atmosphere of the warm night. We dined at a beautiful French restaurant (we had to get a doggy bag- the food far too good to waste!) and halfway through our meal, a fire engine screamed to a halt right outside our door. We were wondering whether they’d come to hose Toby down, his sunburn so red it could’ve raised the alarm… but the top floors of our building were apparently on fire! Surprisingly, we didn’t get evacuated though we didn’t hang around too long just in case!
Toby’s leg was a bit tired from all the walking so Ross and Sam took a leisurely stroll home while Maisy, Toby and I put our lives in the hands of a radical rickshaw driver, weaving in and out of the traffic like a maniac, to get back. We were relieved to disembark unscathed!
