Nice--Unlike Anywhere Else

We've spent the last few days in Nice. It is big and very crowded and was initially a bit overwhelming. We've now gotten more into its rhythm. It is an uncommonly pretty city and unlike anywhere else we've ever visited. It has a distinctive architecture and big public spaces. It's very much a city in France, but to us it seems more Italian than French.

It is purely coincidental that we have broken our trip into two segments--one part of France on the Spanish border and another on the Italian border--that have given us such noticeably different tastes of France. For the first two weeks, we were steeped in all things Catalan. Now, for the past two+ weeks, we've been experiencing an interesting blend of French/Italian ambience.

It shouldn't be too much of a surprise that Nice has an Italian flavor to it. After all, it was Italian until only 150 years ago. We weren't terribly surprised to see pizza shops and fresh pasta purveyors and yummy corner gelato shops. We'd seen them in Antibes, too, which is only about a half hour away by car. But the city really hit us as looking and feeling Italian. In Antibes, it never occurred to us that we were anywhere but in France. Nice? Not so much.

On Sunday, using a Rick Steve's guide, we took a walk through Old Nice. We'd already walked through it several times the day before and thought we'd gotten a pretty good idea of its character, sounds, and smells. But the suggested walking route took us off into little side streets and hidden squares. Rick even describes one of the neighborhoods as "Little Naples." Many of the names sound Italian, such as Place Rossetti. All street names are shown in French and in the old Nicoise dialect.

The narrow streets feel even narrower, because the buildings are 5 and 6 stories tall, not the 2 to 3 stories we're used to seeing. All windows have tall wooden shutters and many have iron grillwork on little balconies--further exaggerating the very narrow feeling of the streets. When you look down the crowded little streets, you'd swear the buildings on each side are leaning toward each other.

We have been steeping ourselves in art and the famous market street, Cours Saleya. Another important part of being in Nice is walking the legendary Promenade des Anglais (English Promenade) along the beautiful crescent sweep of the Baie des Anges (Bay of Angels), with its famous pebble beaches. There is a constant parade of people and runners and bicycles (and the ubiquitous little white tourist trains), and we have spent a lot of time being a part of that scene.

We've ridden the buses several times to get to the museums that are up the hill in Cimiez, one of the nicest Nice residential districts and about a half hour ride away from the main square. We visited the Chagall Museum almost as soon as we got to town and checked in to our hotel. Matisse we saved for Monday, when lots of other things are closed. By having to find a specific bus stop to hook up with the route that would take us to Cimiez, we were forced to get acquainted with the layout of downtown Nice. We are quite proud of the fact that, after only a few days, we no longer need to have a map in hand and can find our way around. (Of course, we have somewhat confined ourselves to a small segment of this, France's fifth largest city. Still....)

The big market is closed on Monday. We'd read that there is an antiques market instead, so we thought we'd wander through. It was the best we've ever seen! It went on for block after block of Cours Saleya. There were sellers on either side of a central passage and more on the outside edges. Just when we were flagging and our eyes were starting to glaze, the market tumbled into a large square with dozens more sellers. Initially, we were just going to pass through the antique market on our way to getting a bus to the Matisse Museum, but ended up spending a happy couple of hours just looking at all the ceramics, crystal, silver, jewelry, linens, art, and all sorts of whatnots. We found a wonderful addition for Jerry's collection of antique tastevins--not only a very high quality sterling silver and an unusual design, but also small and unbreakable, making it a perfect travel souvenir.

To get to our bus stop, we had to cross the lively and massive Place Massena, filled with people and traffic and modern trams and mounted police and more people. The Place is flanked by a long set of park blocks called the Promenade du Paillon. This park area has two large sections of fountains that at times are gently wet, with children frolicking in the watery aftermath of the fountains and at other times are "performing" fountains. It is quite fun to sit and watch them for awhile, and it is a very popular place for people to sit on the many chairs and benches to eat their midday sandwiches. The antics of the water geysers, which appear randomly from the flat surface, never fail to bring smiles to viewers or passers by.

Eventually, we caught our bus and climbed the hill to Cimiez. Once we emerged from the bus, we made several missteps in our attempt to find the museum and wound up at a lovely little 16th century Franciscan monastery with a beautiful garden that includes a view to the hills to the east of the Nice port area and out to the sea. We ended up walking about three times as far as we needed to, but found the museum at last. It is a small but interesting Matisse collection, housed in a 17th century villa in an olive grove, next to the ruins of an ancient Roman city.

Monday night, we wandered the funny little streets and squares of the old town, looking for somewhere to eat. We kept turning down narrower and narrower streets and settled on a perfect little restaurant. All the tables are outside--two rows of tables in front, continuing around the corner with two sets of tables, one on each side of the even narrower side street. It was quite interesting eating with street traffic passing between our tables--only single file possible (fortunately, no motorcycles or scooters, but we did get a pair of bikes come past our table). It was one of the better meals we've had and one of the least costly. A happy find.

Tuesday is our last day in Nice and the final day of our fabulous trip in France. The Languedoc portion of our trip was a completely different world from this interesting stay on the Riviera. It feels like we are light years away from our time in the hills and vineyards of the Languedoc, and yet it was only a couple weeks ago. Both trip segments were wonderfully enjoyable, and we wouldn't change anything to speak of. The scenery has been top notch in both cases. The history, the experiences, the discoveries--all has been an unqualified success.

Now we must leave the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean behind. We're not looking forward to the long slog home, but we are looking forward to being back in our own home and amongst our family and friends. This has been a long trip and we're ready to transition back into our "real world." But, oh, that beautiful blue sea...sigh.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Leaving Antibes

Tomorrow we have to leave Antibes. This is our day to pack up our things. And our day to walk through town, looking now with the filter of "this may be the last time." Our day to go to the beach one last time. Our day to have socca one last time. Our last chance to soak up the view from the sea wall, admiring how beautiful Nice and the Maritime Alps look from this special vantage point. Our last time to hear the special 6pm ringing of the church bells just down our street. You get the idea.

Even though I had wondered a couple times early in our Antibean sojourn whether or not this prolonged stay was a great idea, we find ourselves sad to be leaving it all behind. Antibes has wormed its way into our hearts, with its ancient stones, its tiny streets and shops, its marvelous market, and, oh, those views of the sea. Just to make sure our memories are perfect, this day is sunny and warm, the breezes gentle.

As you might expect given this sort of musing, we wandered through the market one last time. We had our steaming hot socca. We revisited streets and squares. I took more pictures to try to cement this place in our memories. We walked the sea wall and made our way to our favorite beach--just this one last time.

We've now finished all but the last minute packing and are ready to go. But not quite ready to let go. Tomorrow will be a transition again, this time to Nice for the last few days of this trip. We believe this is "au revoir (goodbye) Antibes," but are more in the mood to say "a bientot (until later) Antibes."



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Dancing with the Cars

We are currently residing in a part of Antibes that is called a pedestrian zone. In fact, all of the Old Town is considered essentially a pedestrian zone. Much of the time, you would look about you and consider yourself truly in a car-free zone. There are crowds of people walking in the narrow streets all the time.

But........you'd be well advised to keep your eyes and ears pealed at all times. Cars and scooters (and even trucks) can (and will) appear without warning. I've noticed that I've started to react instinctually. I'll hear a motorized sound behind me and step onto the nearest curb, without breaking stride. Others are doing the same.

Why anyone would want to drive on these people-thronged and very narrow streets is beyond me. But they do. And plenty of them. I figured out pretty quickly that this is not a pedestrian zone as I understand the term. You walk around as if it is, but must be alert at all times.

Even our residential street sees vehicles a few times each day. Since our front door opens directly onto our street, we open our door cautiously--just in case. The garbage truck (oh my, am I glad I don't have to drive that in this district!) comes down our little street several times per week. It's quite fascinating watching the driver maneuver his awkward vehicle in and back out.

There are a smattering of personal vehicles that come infrequently in and out of our neighborhood too. We've seen them pull up to unload groceries or luggage or other bulky items and then disappear back to their offsite garages or other parking arrangements.

There are bollards (retractable posts) at any entrance to our neighborhood. Residents have a remote control that allows them to raise and lower the bollards for their entry and exit. Even the church at the end of our street (which is down a steep flight of stairs from the level of our street) has such a set up. It has a very small open area in front of it and a ridiculously small access road through an arched opening in an ancient wall--with a bollard that can be retracted for wedding and funeral vehicles.

I've seen some very nice vehicles--and some not-so-small vehicles--moving through these streets. You would have to pay me large sums to risk either my paint job or my nerves to the extent required to navigate these very tight quarters. We have watched some hair-raising turns and parking maneuvers. Inches are a luxury here.

We have been walking along our sea wall every day--sometimes from the old port to our residential area, but mostly from our house to the beautiful beaches that are about a 15-minute walk to the west of the old town. Cars (and lots of them) drive this one-lane, one-way road. The walking area is just about two people wide. And the walking is two way. That means we spend a lot of time stepping aside for, or passing, other walkers. But then there are the streams of cars that travel this way with us. There is a constant, intricate dance between passing people and passing cars. We people weave in and out in a fluid line, all the while seamlessly coordinating our timing with the flow of vehicles.

Fortunately, about 4 blocks past our entry to this dance, the promenade walk widens considerably, and people and cars each have their own space. But for that one carefully maneuvered area, we pay keen attention and step lively.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Settling In

We have truly settled in to our daily rounds of life in Antibes. We've gone to the Monoprix in the upper town for our grocery shopping for basic supplies. We've done laundry and used the drying rack that seems to be the preferred local drying method. (It's a whole other story or two if you'd like to hear about our experiences trying to retrieve our clothing from the house's combo washer/dryer. That thing has a mind of its own, and it only speaks technical French!)

We've visited the train station several times and taken the train to Nice (where we walked to the airport to meet our friend, Kathe). We've ridden the local buses. We've walked around the port several times and have scouted out the choicest yachts in the harbor. We've spent hours on the beach--even we, non-beachy people--where the people-watching is unparalleled. We revisited a cozy little neighborhood restaurant, and our waiter remembered we had been there before and made special efforts to visit with us and provide extra service.

We have visited the market almost daily. We now have our favorite bakery. Jerry has started a new morning tradition of going out to bring home a fresh baguette. We know the best of the local olives. We know which seller has the sweetest strawberries and which sells the freshest breakfast radishes--to which I am quite thoroughly addicted. We've gotten used to our little espresso machine, and I've even started drinking caffeinated coffee again.

I had visions of sitting on the sea wall and staring out to sea. It turns out the sea wall is chest high, and the top is sloped to discourage exactly the sort of thing I had in mind. I imagined myself sitting in a sun-dappled plaza, writing in my journal and watching people go by. One can do that, but you would be seated amongst many dozens of other people, with their coffees and cigarettes--not quite as conducive to idle thoughts and musings as I might wish.

This time in Antibes has not been what I anticipated, but it has been an experience I do not at all regret. It is a rather small town in which to base oneself for two weeks sans vehicle. There are only so many options for daily amusement without hopping a train to another town. And yet it creates an opportunity to experience living here. Two weeks is probably a rather short time to make such a claim, but we can with some impugnity say that we have lived in Antibes for two weeks--not visited it for two weeks.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

We Are Village People

Don't worry. We haven't become confused about being THE Village People.

But our recent traveling has led me to do some thinking about how we relate to places and about the choices we make about where we will visit and stay. Now that we've transitioned to being in one place for longer than the usual touring time, it has crystallized the fact that we really prefer small towns. This should, of course, be no surprise to me or to anyone that knows us. We studiously avoid crowds, so why would we seek out cities? (We have been known to make some serious exceptions for Paris though and also loved our time in Chicago, so there may be hope for us yet.)

Village People Thought #1: We are part of a village right now. Antibes is a very touristed city, as it turns out. We had visited here just once before--1989--to see the Picasso Museum. The town seemed charming and quaint to us, on that very first trip to the European continent. I remember nothing but the museum, the beautiful church next door, and the old ramparts and sea wall. Those bits are all still here, but they're in a small old part of a much larger, vibrant and bustling city. A city full of tour groups and tourists (yes, I know we are some too). Families on vacation, lots and lots of Italians (we're not that far from the border after all), annoying motorcycles, and little tourist trains. Lots of people.

We have rented a house in the old town--Vieux Antibes. It is very historic, and it is indeed very charming. The street our house is on is the rue du Bateau. Since we are literally only about 50 feet from the entrance to the Picasso Museum, we get our share of foot traffic during the day, but it gets very quiet after dusk and actually is quite quiet most of the time. We are only about a dozen steps from a very pretty little spot where we can look out to the sea or go down a few stairs to the promenade along the sea wall. We are also within about 100 feet of the daily Provençal market. Fresh veggies and meat and fish and cheese and olives, all just a stone's throw away. Within 6-8 blocks, we have our choice of at least 6 boulangeries (bakeries). And there is no way to count the cafés, restaurants, pizzerias, and gelato shops.

We are settling into a certain rhythm, mostly focused on foraging for foodstuffs with a soupçon of exploring. We are on foot now, the car a thing of the past. While we were very surprised to find Antibes so peopled and crowded, we are taking pleasure in learning our way around its rabbit warren of narrow, twisting streets in the old section--our village within a city.

Village People Thought #2: Traipsing about the past couple weeks, it has been abundantly clear that we prefer the villages and towns and countryside. We've had the opportunity to visit a number of cities--Montpellier, Narbonne, Beziers, and Perpignan--but have carefully avoided them. We've skirted around their edges, then headed for the smaller towns. It could be that we've simply wanted to avoid crowds and searching for parking lots. Or, as we suspect, perhaps we are just Village People.

The larger the towns or cities, the more homogenized they seem. They have great history to them, of course, but large parts of them could be anywhere. In the villages, we're more likely to feel the very Frenchness of them. After all, we didn't travel all this way to experience places and things we could find just anywhere. We are here to feel and sense France and all the little quirky things that make France France. For us, at least, that's to be found in the villages.

After our two weeks in Antibes, we will be spending the last few days of our trip in Nice. I don't think we'll be able to avoid its city-ness, but don't be surprised if we spend most of our time in the old town.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad