Nice III 2016

Nice III

We are at the half way point of our six weeks here in France and nature has decided to clean everything up in our honor.  It has been raining all night and all day removing all the dirt and sand and dog waste from the sidewalks. The palm trees along the Promenade are glistening and waving madly in the 20mph wind, which is also frothing up the surf. All quite lovely and we are well provisioned and have no need to brave the elements today.

In the three weeks we have been here Cindy has cajoled, threatened to withhold favors and intimidated me into attending at least forty musical events. I’m sure she’ll insist that it has only been four, but you get the point.  We went to the Opera House for a concert last Saturday and were looking forward to being in the main hall. On screen, when ordering our tickets, it appeared that we were in the first balcony towards the center, so we anticipated great seats.  Instead, we were on the fifth level of the hall (5th story - each level is very high), firmly in the left corner, sitting on hard benches with fabric as thin as a square of French toilet paper. We were in the first row and there were no backs to the benches so the people behind had their knees firmly against my back. I could not see the entire violin section of the orchestra without leaning precariously over the small rail, which gave me a bad case of vertigo, so I was condemned to look straight ahead while gripping the rail. I seem to remember it being a nice performance with a good soloist on piano, but the minute the house lights came up for half-time, I was a goner!  I raced out of the building and across the street to the ocean and just stood there taking deep breaths until all the panic subsided.  Cindy understood perfectly and like the trooper she is she went back and enjoyed the second half without having to worry about me. We have been back two more times; Cindy used her French to get us better seats and the experience was infinitely more enjoyable.

On one of our walks we commented on how beat up many of the cars seemed to be, not unusual for city driving, but the number of damaged cars seemed high. So, we did a scientific study. We walked down one street and examined each car looking for damage.  Out of fifteen cars, we did not find even ONE that wasn’t damaged, and we are talking about serious damage here. Since we were now attuned to cars we began to notice lots of things that could cause damage. The first, and perhaps the most amazing, is the simple fact that the French do not know how to park!  Certainly they can’t parallel park, and in fact some of the most fun we have had is watching someone try to park. They block the traffic and they pull in and out and hit the car behind them and then in front of them and still can’t do it, despite the fact that the space if big enough for a car and a half.  Living this close to Italy, the Niçois have adopted some of the finer aspects of Italian driving and parking.  Parking in crosswalks seems to be a favorite, and double parking is the norm. It appears that if you have your flashers on, it must be legal since we have never seen anyone get ticketed or asked to move. In fact the only time we have seen any enforcement of any laws is watching the bus police get on buses at stops and checking to make sure everyone has a valid ticket. Judging from what we have seen, many do not!

Our fish monger, or poissonerie, had some lovely looking oysters at a price we could afford, so we got a dozen. The plan was to have the oysters on the half shell followed by a fish soup, very famous in Nice. The plan was foiled by my inability to open a single oyster! Now I’ve shucked oysters with the best of them but these darlings eluded all of my attempts (I had the proper tool), so when the sea gives you incalcitrant oysters, make Oysters Rockefeller.  I got the oven up to about 375 and slipped the oysters in for about fifteen minutes. I then made the filling using the traditional ingredients, which we luckily had on hand. I fried up some sausage we had picked up at the butchers and was ready for the final assembly.  The photos do not do justice to how good this dish was and we certainly did not need fish soup after this feast.  Cindy/wm