France Day 5 - Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

We leave Paris early.  It’s a great city, living up to its expectations, but city people we’re not.  We get on the bullet train to Nice.  The city quickly turns to harvested farms, pastures with white cows, clumps of small villages.  I look up to see that we’re going 294 kM/hr.  (Pause so my engineer friends can do the conversion.)  The only time I’ve gone faster on land is when Mario Andretti drove me around the triangle at Pocono, but that’s another story.  It’s the most civilized train we’ve ever experienced.  In fact, it’s one of the most civilized ways we have ever traveled.  Smooth as glass, quiet, roomy, clean, and peaceful. 

After the first stop, we go through the grimy parts of several cities, then our ears pop as we climb into the mountains.  I didn’t give France credit for the mountains, looking more like last years trip to Montana then I expected.  We turn distinctively east when we hit the south, and the scene turns instantly Mediterranean, racing through big vineyards and getting our first glimpse of the sea. 

We pull into Nice and cab to our place.  We’re right on the Promenade, but the entrance off-putting from an unappealing back alley  We take our bags in, pull the curtains back and, well, Steve Martin expressed it best when he got to the French Rivera in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5F8mLWjZeA

WOW! WA WA WOW WOW WOW! WOW!  ALL I CAN SAY IS WOW!

Nice, especially the seaside Promenade in Nice is one of the most iconic waterfront scenes on the planet, painted and photographed by thousands of artists since their mediums were invented.  Blue paint was invented just for this purpose.  It does not disappoint.  The view from our first-ever Airbnb is literally picture perfect.  Blue sea and narrow shore curving out to the tip of the cove a few miles away, the hillside covered in shades-of-yellow houses with terra cotta roofs.  That painting you’ve seen got it right.

Not only are we right on the Promenade, but we back up to the main square in Vieux Nice, the old city.  We are instantly enthralled with the impossibly narrow walkways packed with cafes, shops, tiny hotels and even smaller apartments and flats.  On a recommendation (thanks, Monique!), we wind our way through the maze to find the legendary Rene Socca.  Socca, a local specialty in Nice, is a sort of pancake made from chickpea flower baked in enormous round pans four feet in diameter or larger.  The texture of fluffy cornbread, sections are scraped out and rolled cone like into waxy paper and served piping hot as street food.  Light but filling, they are the perfect midday snack and are being enjoyed by hundreds of people with a beer or glass of wine.

Reenergized, we wander around the old city and are absolutely fascinated.  The shopkeepers are friendly, stylish and attentive without being overbearing.  In a cheese shop, we buy the stinkiest goat cheese we have ever encountered which tastes incredibly smooth.  We add some sharp, silky Roquefort and spend 15 minutes talking to the cheese monger about cheese, Irma and the world. We exchange e-mails and make a date to take him to dinned when he gets to New York in November.  Next stop is obviously the wine shop across the way, with their wall of rosé.  More great service, more great suggestions. 

We stash everything in our flat and walk the Promenade.  We’re in a 18^th century watercolor.  A 1960s linen postcard.  We’re lovers in a novel.  We’re royalty.  We’re also hot and thirsty, so we retire to our balcony overlooking it all.  Pop the rosé and watch the show.  International people watching, beautiful people edition.  We realize that we are sitting on a balcony sipping good local wine in the French Rivera.  A real pinch me moment.

Later we walk back into the square and it has been transformed into evening café mode.  Each restaurant sets up seating in front of their place which multiplies their capacity with coveted outdoor seating.  This wasn’t here a few hours ago.  We choose La Favola at the west end of the long rectangular square based on the dishes we see being served.  The region’s cuisine is heavily influenced by Italian culture because of its sporadic history of being part of Italy.  We get the house speciality pizza and salad and each was excellent.  The fruitti de mare is unbelievable, the light, fresh tomato sauce a perfect complement to the seafood.  We agree these are the best mussels we have ever tasted.

We are stilled enthralled by the old city and its energy.  We wander through the labyrinth and end up in front of Fenocchio Gelato.  If you think Baskin Robbins’ 31 flavors are impressive, you ain’t seen nuthin yet.  From the standards to the exotic and everything in between.  I get a scoop of the fig, Mandy the citron.  They go well together and we happily swap back and forth.  Perfect end to a very long day.