From the minute we stepped onto the streets of Nice, we were propelled forward by the overwhelming southern French vitality that permeated the city. Perhaps it was the ocean air; a more likely explanation, in my opinion is that the city was brimming with an indefatigable Niçoise pride after banding together in the face of sheer terror...Just months earlier, on July 14th, France's national holiday of Bastille Day, the people of Nice were attacked in the streets as they celebrated their heritage. Three months later, those same people showed us that not only is their resolve unbreakable, but that they become stronger when faced with adversity. We were blessed with just under 48 hours in Nice. We laughed and, yes, we shed a few tears, but we never grew tired. The city and the people gave us all the energy we needed, and we made sure to take full advantage.
When you step out of the train station here, you might think you're in one of the Arrondissements of Paris: off-white, four-story buildings and french balconies sprawling into the distance. However, after a minute or two, the delightful hint of salt as you inhale and the occasional glimpse of pastel-colored masonry lets you know that the capital is far, far away from here.
Our Nice home-base has changed management since our visit, and it is now going to be called the Spity Hotel. It's supposed to be reopened here soon - March they're saying - after they complete their renovations. Obviously, my recommendation will be contingent on room rates after reopening, but this made an excellent temporary home for us in Nice, and at a bargain! The hotel is about a 20-25 minute walk from the train station, Gare de Nice-Ville. I know that seems like a little bit of a hike after a tiresome train ride, but it leaves you with less than a 10-minute walk to the beach, a trade-off we happily accepted. As for the rooms, they are certainly contemporary, although I don't want to comment too much because the renovations could bring major changes. One thing I will say: I hope they don't change the overall feel of the place. It felt simultaneously luxurious and minimalist, a unique feeling we absolutely loved.
Checked in, luggage shed, and breath regained, it was our first night in Nice, and boy were we excited!! Problem was...it was the end of a long travel day, and our bodies were most certainly not excited. So, we compromised with our weary bones and trudged to the grocery store to pick out treats for dinner (and, of course, wine) dans la chambre. I can already hear the uproar from my readers, especially with this being the first lesson many of you will read: "Professor! You seriously spent your first night in a new city at the grocery store?!" And to you, I will make the argument that there is quite a bit of value to grocery shopping - or doing any other routine activity for that matter - in a foreign country. You'll find yourself bouncing back and forth between familiarity and strangeness, then after you've finished, you'll be left with an exhilaration one rarely finds running errands, like, "Hey...I could totally live here!"
Anyway, we returned, we feasted (charcuterie, cheese, olives and a baguette), we glug-glug-glugged our wine and we watched Netflix, all without leaving our bed. I even took a bath for the first time in maybe 10 years or so. Now, I know what you're thinking and it's the same thing we were thinking that night, to be honest: why are we grocery shopping and taking a bath and watching Netflix...we could've done that at home. You would be totally right to ask that question of us, just as we asked it ourselves. But, in retrospect I learned, and am here to convince you, that you absolutely need those times of relaxation when traveling. One of my best friends and fellow travelers always tells me that after a long day on her feet, she just wants to take her legs off and put them on the charger...she's corny but she's not wrong. This night was just the recharge we needed to set us up for our explorations of Nice. And let me assure you, that food and that wine, along with Netflix in Nice with my best friend is an experience that cannot be duplicated.
We slept in (when backpacking that means till 8 or 9am), enjoying our warm covers. While Erin got ready for the day, I threw on some clothes and set out in search of caffeine. Of course, there is no shortage of cafés in France, so it didn't take long for me to stumble upon "Les Délices Dorés," around the corner. "The Golden Delights" in French, this place caught my eye right away, being that the "Dores" is the shortened nickname of the Commodores at my alma mater. Turns out, that name familiarity was quite serendipitous, because it was exactly the kind of family-run place that Erin and I love. The man at the counter, who seemed to be the owner, was very patient and helpful as I stumbled through bastardized broken French. One chausson au pommes for me, one pan au chocolat for Erin and two cafés au lait...maybe it's the espresso talking, but it really is the simple things, like homemade pastries and kindness from a stranger, that make all the difference in life.
Energized and ready to take on the day, we set off into Nice with no real plan in mind. Naturally, we headed seaward towards Nice's main attraction: a miles-long strip of multi-colored pebble beach. This October morning was not particularly warm or sunny, so we decided to take our time strolling the lovely Promenade des Anglais. Midway through our walk, we came upon a roped-off section of sidewalk where crews were cleaning what looked like graffiti - more on that later.
As we continued east, we entered what is known as "Vielle Ville," or, the Old Town. Through intermittent archways along the Promenade, we caught glimpses of what looked like another world. We ducked into one of the archways, and the wide, metropolitan city blocks brimming with traffic and noise faded away behind us, giving way to winding, colorful alleyways meant more for pedestrians than cars. This was the heartbeat of the city.
We found ourselves in agreement that we could spend the whole day just walking around here, taking everything in. Little did we know that we were moments from running head-first into the main attraction of the day! The Cours Saleya Market is a huge daily market that spans the center of the Vielle Ville every morning (closed on Mondays). There is a wide variety of flowers, snacks, ingredients, desserts...really anything you might need or want. We had a blast going from stall to stall, meeting the vendors and grabbing a sample or two. Erin sprang for some homemade soaps and snacked on an assortment of gourmet olives. When we came to the macaron stall, salivation ensued and we couldn't help ourselves. We set our limit at four stupid-delicious cookies each because desserts for lunch sounds great until you have the worst stomach-ache of your life. Speaking of lunch, I'm ashamed to admit, I don't remember where we had lunch that day. The truth is, the Vielle Ville is lined with colorful canopies housing cafés and restaurants of all kinds. Obviously, the seafood is super fresh, but there is definitely something here for whatever cravings you may have. I do remember a solo guitarist playing in the courtyard adjacent to the covered patio where we had lunch. The nearby kids were dancing around him, and he had Erin and I tapping our feet. Right around that time, the sun started breaking apart the cloud cover, ending a wonderful morning on an even brighter note.
After lunch, we made our way up the hill to the far eastern end of Vielle Ville. Perhaps it was the fresh sunlight, but the buildings seemed to be even more brightly-colored here. Erin found an antique shop at the end of an alleyway that she really loved (at least what she could see from the outside), but it turned out they were closed, either for the day or for a long lunch. To this day, she says she will return to that antique shop one day, so it must be a really good one...her instincts are usually on-point. On we climbed, to the top of the hill at the end of the Promenade that overlooks the beach. The view had changed drastically since that morning: the Mediterranean now reflected the encroaching sunshine and the colored pebbles shone against a backdrop of retreating cloud cover. We decided we couldn't leave without putting our feet in the ocean, which was still pretty darn chilly in October, yet felt refreshing on our well-worn soles.
Hence, we were beach bums for an hour: catching some rays, people-watching and rock-skipping. There was even a little dog paddling around in the calm, almost lake-like surf. The afternoon was beginning to dwindle, so we began our trek back in the general direction of the hotel. We knew the Vielle Ville would give us a more scenic return trip, and we carried on winding through the streets until we walked into what looked like a main plaza. It was vast, bustling with people and trams, with a beautiful fountain at the center and surrounded by pastel-colored buildings. This was the Place Masséna with the majestic Fountaine du Soleil at its heart. It was the kind of spot where you could be convinced you just traveled back 150 years. We let our eyes feast for a bit, then ducked into the park that was adjacent to the plaza, Jardin Albert 1er. It was my favorite kind of city park: after 10 steps in, you suddenly realize you can't hear the hustle and bustle anymore, just birds and children playing. There were palms and ponds and, up ahead, the park led back to the Promenade and towards the hotel.
Between us and the Promenade, there was a gazebo and a small plaza covered with photos, flowers, french flags and people. This was a memorial to the victims of the Bastille Day attack. We were overwhelmed with emotion instantly; we had just enjoyed a carefree day in this gem of a city, that months earlier was in a state of pure chaos. We stayed there a while hugging, crying and remembering those proud Niçoise who were celebrating their national pride that July day. Remember that graffiti from the morning? It was actually just a few hundred feet away from the memorial, marking the spot where the terrorist had been killed by police. This was a city still in mourning, and we were humbled by being able to experience it firsthand. It really put our day, our trip and our lives into perspective.
Sadly, we had to check out the next morning and journey back to the train station. On the bright side, we got to make one more stop at Les Délices Dorés for breakfast and espresso. I supplemented my typical European pastry breakfast with a scrumptious spinach quiche - we had quite a long train ride to Barcelona on the docket that day. I can sheepishly admit that Erin and I did not have Nice circled and starred when we first wrote out our backpacking itinerary. Don't get me wrong, we love a good beach, but we weren't expecting much more than that. Fortunately, as travelers, we love being proven wrong. Nice exuded a raw, vibrant, warm, lust for life that, honestly, we weren't quite equipped to handle. It's one of the greatest examples in our travels of one of our core beliefs: to know a place, just go get lost, and its essence will soon make its way to you. Thanks Nice, we'll be back soon!
If you haven't read Lesson One yet, it gives you a good background on my vision for this project...go check it out! We arrived in Nice on October 11, 2016 and departed on October 13. If you like the pictures here, there's tons more in the gallery for our Nice visit. Any questions about the trip or specific locations mentioned or pictured? Visit Office Hours! My door is always open.
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