Nice is nicer than expected

Malcolm Frost
Oct 2, 2016
6 min read

Ah....the French Riviera. Sunshine, beaches, palm trees along the promenade, topless bathing beauties......actually not so many topless bathing beauties to be honest with you. Just a few wrinkly older women sunbathing topless......remember what the sunshine and bathing in the South of France did to Brigitte Bardot?

Most of the younger ones are in bikinis....BOTH pieces.... see!

(I'll spare you the pictures of the old, the brown and the wrinkly.)

But yet again I am getting ahead of myself.

We left La Spezia on Tuesday and it was a six hour train ride to Nice. We thought it would be a lovely journey along the coast - lots of nice sea views. WRONG!

This stretch of railway is mainly in tunnels underneath the amazing rugged Italian coastal scenery. A wonder of modern engineering no doubt, but not that flash if you expected views of the Mediterranean.

Then as we neared the Italian/French border, the Italian police got on the train first and wandered the carriages. Then the French police got on and over the intercom came the order to get out your passports or photo I.D. as security checks will be done. They came into our carriage checked the papers of the only two black people in the carriage and went merrily on their way. Never a glance our way. Not very PC of you French Police!

Then in a short time we pass through Monaco (home of the jet set, the filthy rich and tax dodgers) and we're on our way to Nice.

We also had a fifteen minute wait in a siding while another train came through on the same line as us. So we were going to be fifteen minutes late on arrival. I start to do sums in my head as to whether or not we'll miss our bus in Nice.

No worries says Lizzie - I have on my lucky travelling clothes - everything will be fine. I was skeptical to say the least.

Sure enough, the train arrives in Nice - we get off - walk through the station and out toward the bus stop. The bus we need is a number 12 and there it is waiting at the bus stop. We get on - get off at the offices where we need to collect the keys to our apartment - meet our host (actually his cousin) and everything runs smoothly. We make the short walk to the apartment which is just one street back from the sea front and let ourselves in. See says Lizzie - told you - Lucky Traveling Clothes!

It's not a massive place - our apartment - but it's just fine for us. The main room has kitchen and dining facilities plus a couch and TV. Around the corner is the bathroom with basin, toilet and shower - all nice and clean. Beside the couch is an industrial steel staircase up to a mezzanine floor where there is our double bed plus an easy chair (a great spot for reading) and a side table - just right for my glass of red wine....or coffee.

We walk down the street to a supermarket and stock up on beer (naturally) and food for dinner and for breakfast the next day.

We buy our groceries and get a free cabaret act thrown in. A security guard drops a customer right by the tills. One punch and down he goes. Three other guys then hold the "suspect" and wait for the cops to arrive. We pay for our bits and pieces and leave. We're almost at our apartment when we hear a commotion ahead...... and round the corner comes the guy from the supermarket sprinting hard out. He's obviously given the security guys the slip.

A man just ahead of us trips him up and he hits the deck grazed and bleeding. We tactfully step around the carnage and go through the security gate into our apartment block. Excitement over! Welcome to the back streets of Nice.....maybe not so nice after all?

Lizzie rustled up a nice chicken salad for dinner (that's nice with a small n ....otherwise it's Nice) and then it was a fairly early night for us. Travelling is tiring. (Poor us - still beats working!)

Next morning after a nice breakfast of fresh fruit and yoghurt we're out and about reasonably early to have a look around the old part of town. We pass iconic hotels on the seafront on the way.

Nice is very nice. The hotels and apartment blocks are very well presented and well maintained....after the shabby chic of Italy....everything here seems so well maintained. The old part of town however does remind me a bit of Italy with its narrow streets and pastel coloured buildings....but in better condition.

We have been given a blurred copy of a map by our host showing the points of interest along the way.

First stop is - Jardins Albert 1er - Here is a green space with an outdoor theatre and a band stand. The band stand is decorated with tributes and mementos to remember the dead, from the incident here on the seafront on 14th July when a "terrorist" drove a truck into many people and then started shooting. I didn't think that it would affect me at all but i could feel the odd tear leaking from my eyes as we wandered among the flowers and teddy bears.

Further round the footpath is a nice fountain featuring 3 naked figures and just a little further along is a huge ..... well it looks like a metal letter C but is called "L'Arc 115 degree 5" a monumental conceptual sculpture by Venet.

Along this route are several points of interest for locals and tourists alike.

Just past the sculpture, vents are in the concrete which spurt up a fine mist of water......it's so fine it looks like steam, but isn't.

Further along are fountains - again spurting up from holes in the concrete. The height of the fountains varies and then suddenly they die and the surface of the concrete is slick and shines like a mirror.....and then it all starts again.

This whole area of park and fountains are patrolled by cops on Segways - I kid you not. Reminds me of the movie Paul Blart - Mall Cop.

Further along this path you come to the theatre which is so ugly compared to other buildings around here and then the Museum of Modern Art. Which we will pay a visit to either tomorrow or the next day.

But before we get to the theatre we cut back toward the seafront and look for Cours Saleya - a market in the street selling flowers and food and all sorts of other produce. The flowers, fruit and veg are all first class and in tip top condition.

It's colourful and busy and noisy. The prices on some of the stalls are quite reasonable...on others not so reasonable - I think that some of the owners are aspiring for a boutique shop rather than a stall.

After this we get lost in the back streets wandering along looking at shops and cafes and street stalls. Next minute we are at an old church. We enter and I am just about to ask if it's OK to take photos when the woman in charge has a bit of a rant about me coming in with a walking stick - I got it to help ease the strain on the bad knee. Apparently she's scared that my rubber tipped stick is going to chip the marble tiles.....never mind the women in stilletos ahead of me. I guess in France you can't punish fashion!

Before long we find a nice little cafe and pay over the odds for a cup of herbal tea and a cappuccino. But it gives us a chance to take the weight of our feet for a while.

Then Lizzie spies a dress on a mannequin outside a little shop just down the street from the cafe. She tries it on and SOLD! Just one more item to squeeze into our already over expanded suitcases. So we have a picture of Lizzie in her new dress and a picture of a now naked mannequin.

Further along we see a shop selling table cloths - nice quality and very colourful, but Lizzie digs deep into her stocks of resolve and manages to walk by without making a purchase. I'm so proud of her.

We leave the old town and in a few twists and turns find ourselves in an open square with, of course a statue and fountain. The buildings around the square are all well maintained, painted yellow with nice balconies.

The next turn in the street and we're somehow over by the port and marina.

Much further than we'd intended to walk. We head again for the seafront and begin the long walk......and it IS a long walk...back toward our apartment. On the way we pass a monument to the dead of the 2 world wars.