nice Nice
Written at 5:46, 9-12-06
I like Nice. Nice is nice. Cleaner than Marseilles, it offers all the same amenities—good shopping, warm waters, beautiful sights—without the constant sense that you’re about to be mugged.
After returning from the Malongo Café and posting my blog, I retreated to my room to do some research on the city and figure out what (if anything) I wanted to do tomorrow. This plan, however, was interrupted by the arrival of a couple pretty girls, who Eduardo was accompanying to their rooms. (The luck guy—they were staying in his room). He mentioned they were American and after a brief introduction, we were soon sitting around his room talking about our travels.
Eduardo turned out to be a damn cool guy. The son of the U.S. Ambassador of Honduras, he speaks four languages—English, French, Portuguese, and Spanish—fluently, as can manage pretty well in a handful of other languages. Apparently he’d stayed at this hostel for a while, but after his time and money ran out, he planned to leave. However, in his time at the hostel he’d helped the pair of old ladies get the hostel online, drawing a lot more business. They insisted that he stay, offering him a little work in exchange for a room and spending money. Pretty sweet deal.
The Americans were from California and Washington, though both had gone to school in Washington. Both had recently finished school and were now working as nurses. Their trip in Europe was three or four weeks, and unlike everyone else I met, they were traveling west to east, like me. The girls left for dinner; Eduardo and I talked for a while before parting, intending to meet up later with the girls for drinks.
I spent some time reading until an hour or two passed and Eduardo stopped by and suggested we go out and buy some drinks. We returned to the hostel, wine-in-hand, and met up with the girls who had just returned. I met the rest of the people staying in their room—a German girl named Miya, an American from Las Vegas (I don’t remember his name), and a Spanish guy named Jose (I think). We all kicked back, drank some wine, and talked of our travels.
We decided to stay in for the night, but Eduardo assured us that he was going out to the bars tomorrow night and we were welcome to come along. Everyone was pretty cool and the conversation took us to about midnight when everyone got settled for bed.
So Nice is nice, as I was saying. I tried to sleep in but was rudely disturbed by a trio of Aussies (I think) who came in at about seven in the morning. What had kept them all out to seven, I have no idea, but they were loud and the guy on the bunk below me kept shaking around the bed. Feeling grouchy but ill-resolved to sleep in, I equipped myself with some earplugs and tried to ignore them. I slept for a couple more hours and then roused myself to go explore the town.
I intended to go to Nice’s Museum of Archeology, but as I didn’t have a map, I was going to have to try and remember my way their from a map posted on the wall. Well, take a guess—I never found it. I did find another place I wanted to go and it turned out to be pretty cool. The name was like, Castel Anciente or something to that effect, and it was a great rocky, forested hill that rose over Nice. I didn’t mean to go there, but once I realized where I was, I figured why not. I suppose the hill was kind of hard to miss.
I wandered up it, taking pictures of Nice and exploring the various paths. It offered a fantastic view of the city and ocean and was a wonderful place to just relax and take in the Mediterranean. After a while, I wandered back down the hill and walked along the waterfront. The beach, as I mentioned in the previous blog, was not sandy but instead full of rocks. I was a little surprised by the size of these rocks though, as they ranged from about the size of a quarter up to the size of a fist. Not a particularly comfortable, as you can imagine.
And yes, there were topless women. Now I’ve heard it said that on beaches in Europe, the women going topless are never the ones you want to be topless. Well, whoever said that is wrong. Sure, there is some definite sagginess out there, but there were also some very beautiful women getting “the full tan.”
…not that I was looking…
So I returned to the hostel to drop off my camera and grab my beach stuff. And no—I was going to go to the beach anyway, the women had nothing to do with it…well, almost nothing. First, however, I had to find some sun tan lotion, as I’d made a slight miscalculation and didn’t bring any. Well, I found some and paid waaay too much for it, but I figured it would be something I’d continue to use in Italy. So once that was taken care of, I returned to the beach and tried to find a section that wasn’t very rocky. I didn’t really succeed at this, but I had a mat with me, and between it and my towel, I was able to get fairly comfortable.
Thus the afternoon consisted mostly of sleeping, listening to music, and reading. I’ve never really been able to stay out in the heat very long. I just get too hot. I’d have gone in the water, but without anyone to look after my stuff, I figured it was too risky. There were some clouds and high overcast, however, so I managed to stay out until about 4:00.
I returned to the hostel and booked to stay another night after tonight. I figure I’d go to Monaco tomorrow and then leave for Interlaken, Switzerland, on the following morning. What’s more, I finally gave in and bought a travel guide. In my wanderings across the city, I stumbled upon an English bookstore that had some general Europe guides. Although painfully expensive, I thought it would ease the trouble I have when getting off the train and could perhaps let me locate some better hostels instead of the “go with whatever I can find” strategy. I bought some beverages to drink before our group goes out to the bars tonight.
All in all, a pretty uneventful day, which is exactly how I wanted it. If anything, I wish there’d been more time so I could have got more writing done. I’ll probably work on my novel a bit tonight before going out, though the coffee shop I’m at closes at 7:45. I also met a trio of English girls staying in my room, so maybe they’ll join me. They’re on their way to Barcelona tomorrow, though personally, I like Nice much better than I did Barcelona. Nice is actually a city I could see myself living in for a few months. The weather is wonderful, the city is beautiful, the prices (surprisingly) are affordable. Actually, fix that, the price of food is affordable—the price of clothing and other things in the window is outrageous. And apparently the nightlife is pretty good. Eduardo seems to think it was a place worth living.
But rest assured, I won’t suddenly disappear into Nice never to be heard from again. There are still many places to see, and while Nice is beautiful and has had the best weather yet, each new city holds its own special charm. Next stop, Monaco.
Tags: beach, coffee, Europe, France, Nice, Travel
gregbilsland
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