Like the tourista buses that run in Barcelona, the ones in Nice also travel several routes so this time P and I were up bright at early, out of the room by 10am eager to continue our exploration of the city and its surroundings. We quickly surmised that the ‘blue route’ sucked and we were better off getting back onto the ‘red route’ and this time actually getting off to explore some of the sites.
We exited the bus to check out the Matisse Museum. I’ve always adored Matisse but to see his work right in front him, his furniture, his belongings was thrilling and though my fingers practically itched to take pictures, I held off in respect of the objects de art (and the liberal security spread out all over the darn museum).
On the same grounds of the Museum are old ruins, of what I’m not actually sure though I did look for placards of any sort. Right outside of the boundaries of park was a lovely church which we visited and the gardens behind which was clearly well cared for. There was a couple who had just gotten married and were taking pictures in the garden so we kept a respectful distance though I couldn’t help but point out how hideous the woman’s dress was made up of what seemed as yards and yards of taffeta flounce and a hoop skirt that was so wide it was mindboggling.
Once back in-town, we wandered down the Promenade des Anglais and stopped at a small Asian snack shake to partake in yummies. After I insisted that it was essential that I take pictures of the sinking sun, we found spots to sit on the stone retention wall that runs the whole promenade. I probably took about 1000 pictures of the sun as it sunk down over the horizon. The best part? The people watching! And boy did we ever!
I saw a woman flopped back on a beach towel, topless, her sagging boobs out there for all the world to see. Excitedly I pointed her out to P who grumped at me that if I had to show him boobs, couldn’t it have been of a woman who was younger than 60? I laughed, jabbed him in the ribs and peered around for more interesting sightings. It didn’t take me long to spot a couple on the beach. The guy was completely smothered by the girl who laid on top of him. From our vantage point it seemed as if they had their clothes on but who knew what was going on between them. Ick.
The French are clearly not ashamed of their sexuality (which is no surprise of course the worldly travel such as myself but still…damn) I quickly realized through my time in Nice. Everywhere I looked couples were either canoodling, cuddling or out-right snogging (my new favorite word) in public. Not one big on PDA, I thought it was cute until I saw undulating bodies at which point I snarled under my breath, ‘get a fucking room!’
After lazing around in the room for about an hour or so we headed back out to hunt down dinner. I wanted pizza (which is ridiculous seeing as how we were heading for Italy the next day). First we stopped off at our friend, The Paki DVD dude, purchased another DVD and then settled on a pretty crowded pizzeria where we inhaled our individual tomato, cheese, caramelized onions and olive pizza’s. Right across the street was a crepe stand where I scored a Nutella crepe which I wolfed down faster than one could blink.
Back at the hotel we settled down anticipating the long day journey ahead of us to Venice. I stood on the balcony for several long minutes while P was using the facilities. I sighed into the cool night air feeling my heart constrict just a bit knowing without a doubt that I would never again come back to Nice. Oh I love the place just fine, in fact I pretty much adore Nice but then again wouldn’t it be silly to spend such cashola on the same place twice when there’s a whole big wide world out there just waiting to be explored?
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