6/6
The next morning, we grab some food at another sidewalk cafe. The waiter will not even look at us, we are beneath him. Jean-Francois and Isabel tell me that the people in Nice refuse to speak French with them, even though they are fluent in it. You try to pinpoint patterns, to discover what it is the French are objecting to, but the more you look you see that it is just a general baseless arrogance, and that their beef is just simply with anyone that is not them. We all go to the beach, la plage, which is all rocks, impossible to get comfortable on. I go in the water, it is freezing but refreshing. Joe and I go for a beer, then come back. I lie down for a while and get really sunburned (which will be interesting when combined with a backpack). Joe and I take a walk up to a castle with a waterfall, which sits up on a bluff overlooking all of Nice, quite a vista. Later in the afternoon we go back to the hostel. Rest for a bit, then go back downstairs to go to the convenience store. I walk out of the hostel and see a guy wearing a big helmet lunging at another guy with a knife. The first guy has apparently knocked over the other guy’s motor bike. Riding helmet man is fencing with his little knife in an aggressive stance. The other guy points to his head with both hands, “you’re crazy”, and goes to walk away, but riding helmet man advances once again. They square off again to face one another. This happens again and again. The whole thing looks completely ridiculous, and a crowd of people is gathering to watch. The French can’t even stand each other. That night we go out for mussels in Vieux Nice, all you can eat, delicious and served in a bottomless bucket. The waiters here are polite, professional, laughing and joking with the tourists. Makes good business sense, I am surprised it is so rare here.
Tags: europe, france, nice, Travel
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