Nice IS nice!

In late July, Greg and I were invited to join Canadian friends on their holiday in Nice. Jonathan served in the military with Greg, and our families have known each other since Victoria.

We took the train down to Nice -a quick 4 hours by TGV- and as we travelled the terrain became more tropical, and the air more humid: true Med weather! Christina, Jonathan and their 2 sons met us at the train station and escorted us to their rented abode nearby. They were aplogetic about the tight quarters, but we found it charming; we are already accustomed to the tiny scale of living in Europe!

We walked around town for a 'recon' (with military friends comes military lingo) and admired the ornate architecture, palm trees and relaxed pace of life along the Med. Our impression was one of faded elegance, of a moneyed place that had seen better days. And yet the air was balmy and moist, and smelled of the sea...we could see the appeal for those who return again and again (spending the month of August on the Mediterranean is the traditional summer vacation for most Parisians). This favorable impression only deepened when we took our first dip in the ocean: pure bliss! It was like returning to the warm, salty waters of the womb. We would comfortably float and be cradled by the waves for hours at a time.

We noted Nice came alive at night as we wandered the narrow streets of Old Nice looking for a good dinner place. Eating with Jonathan is a delight: among other talents, he is a prodigious gourmet, always seeking new recipes and delighting in local flavours. He had diligently researched good places to eat before we arrived, but the final decision was always one of instinct: we stood before several establishments, noses quivering, observing the place's atmosphere and style before settling on a charming Italian restaraunt. We finished the night with a stroll and managed to fit a delicious local ice cream into our bulging bellies before heading home.

The next day we took a bus to nearby Monaco. The bus was an experience in itself: we arrived in plenty of time to find the quai already stacked with sunseekers. Queuing in France is a frustrating experience for anyone of the Anglo Saxon persuasion: there are no orderly lines, only a chaotic melee that presses forward with little regard for small children, pregnant bellies, or even the need to breathe! In this press, Jonathan reached for his wallet to pay the fare only to find it gone! We immediately backed away from the crowd, scanning for anyone suspicious. Jonathan approached two men loitering around the crowd (you have to ask yourself why) who denied seeing anything, but cannily suggested we check the garbages, and around the benches 'in case it got dropped'. Sure enough, Christina spotted the wallet wedged under a bench; coincidence? We thought not, but were only happy that calamity had been averted.

And so, on to Monaco. The city lies like a beautiful woman between two natural harbours. Surveying the scenery from the top of the Rock of Monaco (where the palace is located), we could smell the money. None of us had seen a cleaner or prettier city. We visited St. Nicholas Cathedral, where Princess Grace was married and buried, and then on to the Aquarium housed on a stunning fin de siecle building perched on a cliff looking out to sea. We all agreed it was the most stupendous location for a museum we'd ever seen (and the kids liked the fish!). Greg was keen to see Casino Monte Carlo, and so we walked around the huge harbour (stopping to let the kids enjoy a few rides at the pint sized fair), hauled our weary carcasses up the hill only to find....we weren't allowed in wearing shorts! I did manage to get in (wearing a sundress) to use the washroom, which was very elegant, but not the full experience we had in mind (let's face it, we probably couldn't afford to gamble there anyhow!!). As a finale to the day, we missed the last bus, but were able to get home by train, and put our satiated selves to bed.

On our last day, I was keen to see the Musee Matisse. I am not really a fan of his style, but I always find it edifying to reconsider an artist in context; I always come away with a greater appreciation ,if not a true passion, for the art. The Musee Matisse met my expectations in this way, and I enjoyed learning more about Matisse's relationship with his muse and model Lydia (but he never slept with her...ya, right!). The visit was enlivened when Jonathan and Christina's 3 year old son set off an alarm while playing around an art peice-whoops! We finished the day exploring the lovely Jardin Botanique de la Ville de Nice, and smelling the roses. Isn't that what les vacances is all about?