Panama Canal Transit 2020

Panama Canal transfer, January/ February 2020

You may remember that I said we love to take smaller ships so that we don’t have to worry about taking tenders into the ports.  Well forget about it!  At four of our five ports we were berthed at an ugly container cargo ship port, and when I say ugly, I mean butt ugly! Not only were they noisy, dirty and filled with the dust of corn or concrete being off-loaded, they always required a 45-90 minute bus ride to the center of whatever town we were visiting.  It goes without saying that we usually stayed right on the ship except in Quayaquil, Ecuador where I purchased a genuine Panama hat! Contrary to popular belief, that is where they are all made. 

Sometimes we cruise for the ports of call and sometimes we cruise as a good way to cross the ocean without a long flight and jet lag, and always we cruise to dance.  And dance we did on the Silversea Shadow from Ft. Lauderdale through the Panama Canal to Lima, Peru. As mentioned, most of the ports of call were a real bust, but we were able to add some countries to our lists:  Columbia, Ecuador, and Peru.  The evenings provided choices of dance venues including a wonderful jazz trio from Ukraine and a young Welsh guy who sang and played the guitar and was quite the entertainer.  One of his tunes was "Country Roads" so we loudly proclaimed we were from WV and sang along.  He played it several more times and added "Charles Town" and/or "West By God Virginia" to the lyrics.  In addition, if we were still awake after 11 pm we could dance to disco music, and after the first night the DJ knew what we liked and always played our favorites (Donna Summer at the top of that list).  Somehow I became known as "Twinkle Toes" and I did my best to maintain that image.  

People often say that they love to watch us dance and even Thursday in the airport we were stopped by a woman who had been on the cruise who said that we made the trip so enjoyable for her because we danced like her parents who are no longer around and we seemed to be so in love. That seemed to be the common comment and it made us feel really wonderful, not only because we love to dance but because others can share our joy! 

The food was terribly average for the first 5 days or so and then improved exponentially and was delicious for the rest of the cruise (another 8 days).  Turns out that we weren't the only ones noticing the lack of quality and some of the others were smart enough to complain.  Not sure how Silversea managed to make such qualitative changes while at sea (same staff and same food stores, presumably) but the changes were significant and were more than welcome.  So who says whining doesn't work?  What really makes us happy is when we train the wine steward to watch for us every lunch and dinner and have two glasses of ice cold Champagne delivered to our table within two minutes of sitting down.  He even anticipated Cindy’s red wine choice for the night and had it slightly chilled for her enjoyment.  That is service!

We were heading home as I typed this, and after a very early departure from the ship at 6:30 AM to catch our flight to San Salvador with a connection to Dulles, we were delayed in the San Salvador airport for hours longer than we'd planned.  Ah well, at least we'll get home the same day (at midnight) which beats another overnight.  

Every once in awhile even I have a moment of perspective. Yes, it is annoying to be stuck in the San Salvador Airport for four hours, but we are in a lounge with quality Scotch and some decent food and it is air conditioned and clean.  On our early morning drive from the ship to the airport we travelled through some of the most depressingly desperate slums filled with open fires, feral dogs, poorly dressed workers, litter strewn everywhere, and a dense haze of windblown sand and smoke.  Therefore relaxing in the airport with Johnnie Walker Black and a passionfruit tart doesn't seem that horrible.

As we sit here we are amazed at how many people think it is just fine to yell into their computer while on Skype or FaceTime or whatever. We have to listen to both ends of the conversation and there are at least five or six going on simultaneously!  Perhaps everyone in El Salvador is deaf! While I can’t confirm they are deaf, I can confirm that very few of them have mirrors in their homes. Young, old, and in between, there is no such thing as appropriate dress, and it isn’t an issue of money since some of the most offensive clothing is EXPENSIVE!  When I was young and my father saw someone whose pants were not touching his shoes, he would say, “he should have a party and invite his pants to visit his shoes,” but now it is the bare midriff that is the offender, not only in men but especially women whose ample midriffs really should be covered!

Cindy says I should keep my head down and keep reading without looking around.  I'll give that some thought.  

all the best, Cindy and Wm

PS: We finally arrived home at 1:30 this morning and for the first time ever we went to bed without unpacking! Now that is tired!

Jacksonville Beach

We are not beach people!  We do not like to be in the sun very much, detest sand in our shoes and clothes and don’t do much swimming.  We do like to be NEAR beaches and listen to the waves crashing while we sleep and enjoy walking on solid ground above the beaches.  That is why we so love Nice and La Jolla. However, if I ever had to live in Florida, I would consider living on the beaches of Jacksonville:  not because of the beaches, but because of the people!

We have been so impressed with every interaction we have had here - whether at supermarkets, restaurants, dry cleaners or shops - everyone is genuinely nice, concerned and friendly. It reminds us of our first visits to Australia and New Zealand, where the pride of country was evident in every encounter with the locals.  I don’t think it is ‘beach culture’ per se, but rather civic pride, which is usually missing in transient places like beach towns.

Today, after a long walk on the beach - yes I do walk on beaches in the winter - I came back only to discover that my glasses must have fallen out of my shirt pocket.  I tried to retrace my steps to find them on the sand, but to no avail. Megan and Cindy suggested that I check the walkways that connect parking areas to the beach because sometimes folks will find something and place it on the flat handrails. So after breakfast I did just that and on the 12th walkway, there were my glasses, completely intact. There was a surfer dude standing nearby and he heard me gasp out loud, "well, I’ll be" and asked what happened. I told him I lost my glasses and some kind soul had found them and placed them here. He said, “we have a lot of kind souls here.”  How cool!

Megan continues to get stronger and is eating and sleeping well. Yesterday we attended a conference on Multiple Myeloma for patients and caregivers sponsored by Mayo. The morning speakers were mostly people we know who have been treating Megan. At one point, Megan’s primary doctor was talking about the breakthroughs in this treatment and said that the very first patient to go through this clinical Car-T trial had just been released from the hospital and was sitting right in front of him. He asked Megan to stand and she got a big round of applause from the crowd.  It was a good experience. 

Megan’s son Blake came up yesterday - always a spirit-lifter for her - and went home today. The four of us had dinner last night at a lovely restaurant not far from the condo. It was not your typical beach menu but rather some sophisticated dishes, all of which were well prepared and served. We shared some of the best crispy Brussels sprouts and bacon I’ve ever had and a small order of perfectly cooked Lamb Lollipops  with mint chutney. My citrus glazed salmon was decorated with the most beautiful edible flowers and blistered green beans on cauliflower mash; Cindy loved her Gorgonzola-filled ravioli with a warm mixture of endive, walnuts, and pears alongside - as I said, not typical beach fare.  Best of all, they had real French Champagne for a mere $8/ glass - not only is the real deal seldom available in this country; it tends to be $12-15 or more per glass. 

Blake's dad, Clay, drove him up here to Jacksonville and back and we had breakfast with him this morning. We haven’t seen Clay in fourteen years but we have been so impressed with his parenting and his concern for Megan. It’s a ten-hour trip up and back and he did it to help support Megan. Gotta love the guy!  We have another week here and if all continues to go well, we’ll start the drive home next Sunday afternoon.

Jacksonville Mayo Clinic

It has been a remarkable three weeks, filled with roller coaster ups and downs. The great news is that Megan is making a remarkable recovery. The staff marvels at her attitude and her ability to maintain a very positive persona. The first few days after they infused her with her genetically modified and refined blood were tough for Meg. She was quite fragile going into the treatment and having to do an MRI for one hour placed a lot of strain on her body and her pain level at that time was a ten out of ten. The good folks at Mayo got her stabilized and treated her pain. That was ten days ago and now she no longer takes any pain meds at all since her pain is gone!!

All of her blood work is showing signs of returning to the normal pre-cancer readings. She is doing so well that they are letting her leave the hospital a day early, so this Monday we shall take her to the new rental on the beach. She will have a room with a balcony directly overlooking Jacksonville Beach and I predict her recovery will be far more enjoyable than having to stay at the hospital.  We’ll be here for the next two weeks looking after her but they are not placing any restrictions on her in terms of walking or eating. She just needs to be within a thirty-minute drive of Mayo and will have some appointments during the next several weeks to make sure all is well.  We are all so greatly relieved and so thankful to all the professionals at the Mayo Clinic who have made this possible.

As you can imagine, my usual tales of food and drink and long walks aren't being reported now since they haven't happened!  Nevertheless Cindy and I have gotten into a pleasant routine of visits to the hospital to spend time with Megan, lots of little shopping trips for special foods and things she needs, frequent loads laundry so that she had clean jammies every day (who would want to wear a hospital gown?) and some short walks around the neighborhood. I’ve been cooking up a storm for Megan and we deliver hot and healthy meals. I must say that the food at Mayo is outstanding, but I know what my little girl likes!  Once they spring her on Monday we hope to get out and about a little more, but if not we are perfectly happy continuing our routine with Megan with us.  We won't miss the drives back and forth to Mayo - even though it was only 15 minutes door to door, we sometimes felt that we were entirely too far from her.  That ends on Monday afternoon!  

More later, Cindy and Wm

Dunedin, Florida

We drove down to Florida to be with Megan as she navigates the procedures for kicking multiple myeloma. She is being treated at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville where she was selected to participate in a new research project that involves some of her blood being genetically modified to fight the specific cancer that has been with her now for more than two years.  We met her here in Jax for lunch and dinner last week, and then she went home to North Port to get things organized before driving back to Jacksonville where we will be for five or six weeks.

We wanted to be close to her, but not so close as to make her feel like we needed to be entertained; we just wanted to be close enough that if we were needed we could be there in under two hours.  We elected to go to Dunedin, on the west coast of Florida about thirty minutes northwest of Tampa on the Gulf of Mexico. We had been there once about five years ago and had dim memories of it being a nice place. We stayed at a hotel right on the marina and a five minute walk to the lovely downtown. After changing rooms three times in fifteen minutes due to a reservation snafu, we set off to explore. It is an old city that has managed to retain its charm despite tourism.  We like it because it doesn’t have any beaches, which means no beach bums and very few children.

Right behind our hotel we noticed a small street facing the gulf that has about twelve of the most beautiful old homes you can imagine. They all have long docks so as to be able to launch their boats at low tide and huge manicured grounds leading to their front porches. In between is a sidewalk and a narrow road so there is public access all along the water - at least visually - there are signs making it clear that the docks are not public.  One home - we looked it up on Zillow - is set on 4.6 acres with ten bedrooms and huge porches front, back and side.  The other houses, no two of which are the same, are less grand but equally elegant. It was a particularly nice place to walk and run in the morning.

The town is divided by Alt. Route 19, which runs up the coast from Clearwater to beyond Tarpon Springs. On one side is the town itself and on the other a marina which houses our hotel and two restaurants, one fancy and the other an open-sided beer bar. Both offer great views and good food and very different menus at VERY different prices.  We ate in the fancy place the first night and while the food was good and the service exceptional, it was far too sterile for our taste. The other restaurant also houses a fresh fish market and their fish was delicious, simply prepared and served in paper-lined plastic baskets at a third the price of the fancy joint. We ate there a few times and always enjoyed the food, wine, views, all of which changed daily.

The downtown was a single street, Main Street to be precise, lined with cutesy shops which cater to tourists, and bars and restaurants which for the most part cater to the locals.  Splitting the town down the middle is the Pinellas Trail, a biking/walking path that was created from the old railroad bed that went from St. Petersburg to Tarpon Springs, offering 47 miles of excellently maintained surface. I walked a lot of it during our time there and was amazed at how polite and courteous all of those using it were to one another, quite civil.

One day we decided to drive to Tarpon Springs, a place we had visited more that thirty years ago. Our only memory was that it was very Greek due to the fact that there were/are lots of sponges in the waters of the Gulf and in the 1900s many Greeks came over to collect and sell them. On the way there we stopped at an optician to see about getting my two pairs of glasses repaired. The day we were leaving to drive to Florida I lost the nose rest on one pair and the lens popped out of the new frames on another pair that I had purchased just the day before. I explained what I needed to the young receptionist and she asked us to have a seat. Ten minutes late she came out with everything all fixed and the glasses cleaned. I ask her how much I owed her and she smiled and said, “Nothing, I’m just happy I was able to help you.” And me without a lollipop!

We did an inadvertent tour of most of Tarpon Springs before finding the tourist area, which was pretty much as we had remembered it. Tons of ticky-tacky shops selling - yes you guessed right - sponges. Not just sponges but sponges in every shape you can imagine and for every purpose. There were sponge vases, hats, bowls for soap - everything except square pants. We wandered around the harbor, admiring the working boats and enjoying the smells of fresh bread coming from the Hellas Bakery, a huge commercial place that bakes for all of Florida’s Greek restaurants (of which there are many). 

A month or two ago Cindy had been given a new handbag from Megan and Valley and she wanted me to put a new hole in the strap so that it rested better on her hip. While I was perfectly prepared to do this for her, I also knew that I would take away from the overall good looks of the bag, so upon entering a little gift shop and smelling fresh leather, I suggested we see if they could do it. A wonderfully friendly young owner was only too pleased to help and in no time he had professionally punched a hole right were Cindy wanted it. He would not take any money for the service so I purchased a small leather bag for myself to hold all the stuff I would be needing at the Mayo Clinic. Again we marveled at how kind all the shop owners seemed to be.

We selected a very Greek looking restaurant, Hellas (owned by the same family for thirty-eight years) and as we stepped in we were transported back to Greece. The smells, colors, and cacophony of music along with people talking and yelling orders, was marvelous.  We immediately remembered that it was the same restaurant where we had eaten on our first visit so many years ago. We started with Ouzo, which was not on the menu but we knew if it was really Greek they would have it - and it was delicious.  We then ordered skordalia, an appetizer of cold mashed potatoes with tons of garlic served with the very best fresh warm pita bread from their bakery. Then came two small appetizer portions of grilled octopus and a plate of grilled lamb riblets, both sporting fresh sauces of lemon, garlic and parsley. Oh my goodness were they ever tasty. After lunch we walked over to a little shack that advertised Cuban coffee, cigars and sandwiches. The owner, who spoke no English despite his family being in the same location for eighty years and he having personally run this shop for 18 years, made us a truly rich and flavorful Cuban coffee which was the perfect ending to a perfect luncheon.

On the way back to Dunedin we stopped at a local jeweler we had noticed on our walks. One of Cindy’s rings had a problem with one of the prongs catching on clothes and she wanted to find out if they could fix it. The clerk looked at it, stepped into the back and asked the jeweler about it, and returned in a few minutes with it fixed perfectly. At no charge! How do they make money in this area?

Best to all,  Cindy and Wm

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.

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