I am heading for Nice, to meet Faby and family. That means I had to spend a frantic early morning vacuuming, wiping down surfaces, and rearranging the furniture so the house will be ready when they come visit me in five or six days. I did fix a lunch for the long train ride, and took 10 minutes to walk to the station (it would normally take me 5 minutes, but I am sore after the Iron Man bike ride I did yesterday). But by 10 am I was there waiting for the 10h30 train (note the way we French list time, with an "h" instead of a colon ":") that was going to take me from Bergerac to Bordeaux (passing by Saint-Emilion and other beautiful wine growing regions), from Bordeaux to Marseille (this was a 6-hour ride aboard a fast Intercity train), and finally from Marseille to Nice, where I arrived at 21h30.
I walked to my hostel,
the Villa Saint Euxpery Beach Hostel, in the middle of a throng of tourists.
Wow, there are a lot of people in Nice these days. When I got to the hostel I
found out it was full, and no, I had not booked a separate room but for a princely
sum I had the last bunk in a 10-persons room. Pobrecitos! They were going to
have to put up with my snoring.
The following morning
I was up before anyone else, took my shower, and went down to the hostel
kitchen to have a couple of cups of coffee and go explore the old town. I did
notice a guided walking tour was being offered at 11 am, and a Pub Crawl at
night (that Faby and DJ took advantage of the following night while Opa was
available to look after Ronnie). It was fun to walk through the town as it woke
up. There is going to be an antique market in the streets of the old town, and
folks were beginning to set up. I walked down to the seaside promenade and
gazed over the famous Bay of Angels of the Côte d'Azur, and then went back to
follow the park that covers what originally had been the Paillon stream, past
the Museum of Modern Art, and down to Plaza Garibaldi. Turns out that the
Father of the Italian Republic was born in Nice, which at the time was a part
of the Duchy of Savoy.
I went back to the
hostel to join Matt's Walking Tour, with Matt being a self-promoting tourist
guide who in a clipped British accent is a treasure trove of stories about the
city, its monuments, and its history. I was having a great time when I got a text
letting me know that Faby et al. had arrived to the train station, so I said
goodbye to Matt and the rest of the group, and hurried to share hugs and smiles
with the visitors from across the ocean. They are of course seasoned travelers
with backpacks, so we walked to my hostel to pick up my stuff and book the Pub
Crawl, and from there went to meet the landlord of the small apartment they had
booked near the beach. Ronnie was champing at the bit to get in the water (he
had bought himself a mask and sandals at a store near the station), so we went
there to unwind. There were lots of people sunning themselves in what has to be
one of the most uncomfortable beaches ever, with not a grain of sand but a
continuous layer of rounded pebbles that are very difficult to walk over (that
is why the water is so blue!).
We walked around a
bit, stopped at a supermarket to buy the basics for dinner that night (Ronnie
suggested salmon, so we ate like kings) and we were ready for bed. That is, I
was ready for bed, but DJ wanted to see the soccer game France vs. Austria, so he
peeled off, found himself a suitable bar, and submerged himself in the
passionate world of French soccer fans. He was in heaven!
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