Thursday, October 3, 2019

Nice September longform

We have come to Nice many times but always in the cold months. We thought we would try it in the warmer months to see what it was like so we came for ten days in early September.  BIG MISTAKE!!

This is not our Nice, it is the Nice of sun lovers, party animals, families, Russians, Scandinavians, and others in search of the last rays of sunlight to tan their hides.  It is horrible and to be avoided.  We arrived on a Friday and our Uber driver told us that starting the next day there was an Ironman competition with 57,000 participants. Saturday was for the women and Sunday for the men, which meant that our precious Promenade was to be closed for two days.  The horror!

We settled into our AirBnB which was roomy but basic and lacking most things needed for a ten day stay. It set the tone for the next ten days, which were to be less than perfect. On Saturday morning we tried to go to the Promenade but were rebuffed by marshals protecting the rights of the runners and bikers. We walked instead on the main streets of Nice, which were clogged with support people and tourists. The next day we decided to not even try the Promenade and instead walked up to the top of a park that is two miles above sea level, or so it seemed as we walked and walked and walked on switchback paths.  We finally got to the top and there were no views of anything, just trees, a thousand dogs off-leash, and sincere hikers with arms and legs like a Michelangelo detailed anatomy sketch. Our legs were aching and we couldn’t for the life of us figure out whose idea it was to do this insanity!

We finally got home, fueled by an exceptional cup of real Italian espresso, and then cleaned up for our Sunday lunch.  I’m a sucker for Sunday Lunches.  I remember living in Italy and after the church services, extended family groups would go to a trattoria and spend three to four hours eating, drinking, laughing and generally having a ball.  We found a perfect place near Place Liberation that we had noticed for years and made a reservation.  We had to wait for thirty minutes but there was a bar and I enjoyed a pastis while observing the dynamic of the restaurant.  It was a mixed bag from singles to extended families all served by experienced waiters who moved with the precision of ballet dancers, twisting and turning with a fluidity that sometimes seemed to defy gravity. From my perch at the bar, I could also observe the two barmen filling orders with the speed and alacrity of a well tuned pit crew.  It was a most acceptable way of spending thirty minutes. 

Our luncheon was spectacular!  A shared dozen fresh oysters, the freshest tuna you can imagine done to perfection (for me), and an avocado and gambas salad for Cindy which she declared divine. Rosé for me, Chablis for Cindy - and groans of contentment filled our corner of the room.  We wandered home in a haze of satisfaction and took a well-deserved nap for an hour or so, establishing a routine for the next week.

As it turned out, that was the highlight of the ten days! Monday was an ok day but too many people everywhere. You forget that your memories of special places are usually locked into a particular time of the year. While Florida can seem dreamy in December, it is painful in August, and so it is for us in Nice.  We prefer the cold season when the Promenade is for the locals and the restaurants have time to chat with you and serve food that isn’t meant to be consumed with your fingers.  Tuesday rained all day, which was fine for us since we had the Promenade all to ourselves and even rain soaked we received our typically sunny reception at our favorite bar where we had our coffee and daily chat with the owners who tolerate my French and love Cindy’s questions about grammar and verb tense.  

The last really fun thing we did was Tuesday night, which involved a lovely dinner at a favorite restaurant. The next morning I woke up at five feeling a bit funny.  I went into the bathroom and within five minutes had managed to expel everything I had consumed for the past month from every part of my body that allowed expulsion. This pattern continued for the next four days, with periodic timeouts for chicken buillion, sips of water and very long periods of sleep. Not sure what caused it, could have been a bad oyster, could have been a stomach flu, could have been damn near anything but it struck with a vengeance.  Luckily Cindy was spared the brunt of the illness, she was out of service for only about a day and never had an issue with violent expulsions.  I highly recommend this illness for those that are trying to really loose weight quickly!

We departed a few days later, sad that our experience had been so terrible. To make sure we don’t feel bad about Nice, I’ve just booked us for three weeks, Christmas to the middle of January. I’m sure we’ll find ‘our’ Nice then.

Best to all,  Cindy and William



Last night, Sunday, was the first time in five days that I really thought I could eat a whole meal. We booked at a favorite place looking forward to a fine meal. We were seated inside, at our request, everyone else was waiting for a table outside so that they could breath smoke as they ate. We started with Champagne, ordered a lovely bottle of Petite Chablis, Cindy’s favorite and hard to find, and ordered our appetizer.  Half way through my burrata and tomatoes,  realized that I was full, no hunger at all. Cindy finished here calamari sauté and helped with my caprese but she too was not hungry so we finished our wine and asked for the bill. The young waitress then tried to tell us that it is expected that guests will order a main course!  This of course is a load of manure and we told her that we were not feeling well and please bring the check. She they tried to get us to order dessert!  Now here we were in a French restaurant were the prefixe meal was 30Euros. If we had both ordered the prefixe the bill would have been 60 euros, our bill was 80 Euros, almost all of which was wine which is where the restaurant makes money! Do they not train anyone anymore?  Again, this would never have happened in the winter, but they are so used to dealing with mass tourism that they think they can shame you into eating more than you wish!

We are home!  We flew with a carrier called La Compagnie, they have non-stop service from Newark to Nice in the warmer months. They fly a specially configured 757, with 74 business class seats. It was a comfortable layout and very affordable for a discounted Business Class. I really didn’t think everything through when I made the reservations because it was special offer made on Valentine’s Day, two for $2500 round trip. I jumped on it before any analysis, which was a tad silly.  It is not hard to get from here to Newark, but the flight departed at 23:30 and the only flight I could get to Newark arrived at 13:30.  That is a very, very long time to be in Newark.  We had to spend the night on the return since the flight arrived at 22:00 and there were no connections. Again, not a horrible thing, but not what you want to do after a long flight late at night. 


Between Kisses

I pull the car up the departure door, pop the trunk, pull out Cindy’s suitcase and give her a long kiss goodbye. In seconds she is swallowed by the cavernous airport and I’m back in the car heading home, missing her already.

It hasn’t always been like that.  For years in the 90’s we lived apart more than we lived together, and before that I was often gone for long periods of time, but we managed.  In the 80’s when I was traveling in Asia, there was no internet or email and phone calls were simply too expensive and hard to arrange given the time zone difference.  We relied on faxes!  Do you remember faxes? I can remember sleeping in some hotel or another in Tokyo or Hong Kong when I would hear a slight sigh of an envelope being slipped under my door.  I would leap out of bed and read the fax from Cindy; in fact I would read it several times before going back to sleep. It was a tough way to stay in touch.

Now we have multiple ways to say in touch, in fact if we wanted we could be in touch all of the time.  The technology however does not solve the problem. We adjusted in the early days because we had to adjust. Cindy had her job, I had mine and we simply dealt with it as best we could.  Now, however, we are both retired and spend most waking hours together. Mostly doing mundane things, but we are together and can communicate without a word or with lots of words, but we are in constant communication. 


When she leaves now I do not find calls, messages, email, or even FaceTime to be a very satisfying way to communicate. It is stilted, usually short, sometimes just an emoji or single letter, K for okay.  And so, paradoxically, I miss her more now when we have tons of tech to work with than I did in the early years. And so I wait with great anticipation for the welcome home kiss, to end the loneliness.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Nice in September

We have stayed in Nice many times but always in the cold months. We thought we would try it in the warmer months to see what it was like so we came for ten days in early September.  BIG MISTAKE!!

This is not our Nice, it is the Nice of sun lovers, party animals, families, Russians, Scandinavians, and others in search of the last rays of sunlight to tan their hides.  It is horrible and to be avoided.  We arrived on a Friday and our Uber driver told us that starting the next day there was an Ironman competition with 57,000 participants. Saturday was for the women and Sunday for the men, which meant that our precious Promenade was to be closed for two days.  The horror!

We settled into our AirBnB which was roomy but basic and lacking most things needed for a ten day stay. It set the tone for the next ten days, which were to be less than perfect. On Saturday morning we tried to go to the Promenade (thinking maybe we could get onto it despite the Ironman), but were rebuffed by marshals protecting the rights of the runners and bikers. We walked instead on the main streets of Nice, which were clogged with support people and tourists. The next day we decided to not even try the Promenade and instead walked up to the top of a park that is two miles above sea level, or so it seemed as we walked and walked and walked on switchback paths.  We finally got to the top and there were no views of anything, just trees, a thousand dogs off-leash, and sincere hikers with scrawny arms and legs like a Michelangelo detailed anatomy sketch. Our legs were aching and we couldn’t for the life of us figure out whose idea it was to do this insanity!

We finally got home, fueled by an exceptional cup of real Italian espresso, and then cleaned up for our Sunday lunch.  I’m a sucker for Sunday lunches.  I remember living in Italy and after the church services, extended family groups would go to a trattoria and spend three to four hours eating, drinking, laughing and generally having a ball.  We found a perfect place near Place Liberation that we had noticed in years past and made a reservation.  We had to wait for thirty minutes but there was a bar and I enjoyed a pastis while observing the dynamic of the restaurant.  It was a mixed bag from singles to extended families all served by experienced waiters who moved with the precision of ballet dancers, twisting and turning with a fluidity that sometimes seemed to defy gravity. From my perch at the bar, I could also observe the two barmen filling orders with the speed and alacrity of a well-tuned pit crew.  It was a most acceptable way of spending thirty minutes. 

Our luncheon was spectacular!  A shared dozen fresh oysters, the freshest tuna you can imagine done to perfection (for me), and an avocado and shrimp salad for Cindy which she declared to be divine. Rosé for me, Chablis for Cindy - and groans of contentment filled our corner of the room.  We wandered home in a haze of satisfaction and took a well-deserved nap for an hour or so, establishing a routine for the next week.

As it turned out, that was the highlight of the ten days! Monday was an okay day but too many people everywhere. You forget that your memories of special places are usually locked into a particular time of the year. While Florida can seem dreamy in December, it is painful in August, and so it is for us in Nice.  We prefer the cold season when the Promenade is for the locals and the restaurant people have time to chat with you and serve food that isn’t meant to be consumed with your fingers.  Tuesday it rained all day, which was fine for us since we had the Promenade all to ourselves and even rain-soaked we received our typically sunny reception at our favorite bar where we had our coffee and daily chat with the owners who tolerate my French and love Cindy’s questions about vocabulary.  

The last really fun thing we did was Tuesday night, which involved a lovely dinner at a favorite restaurant. The next morning I woke up at five feeling a bit funny.  I went into the bathroom and within five minutes had managed to expel everything I had consumed for the past month from every part of my body that allowed expulsion. This pattern continued for the next three days, with periodic timeouts for chicken bouillon, sips of water, and very long periods of sleep. Not sure what caused it - could have been a bad oyster, could have been a stomach flu, could have been damn near anything - but it struck with a vengeance.  Luckily Cindy was spared the brunt of the illness; she was out of service for only about a day and never had an issue with violent expulsions.  I highly recommend this illness for those that are trying to lose weight really quickly!

We departed a few days later, sad that our experience had been less than perfect (as we have come to expect in Nice). To make sure we don’t feel bad about Nice, I’ve just booked us for three weeks, Christmas to the middle of January. I’m sure we’ll find ‘our’ Nice then.


Best to all,  Cindy and William