Markets--of Various Sorts

Bon jour, mes amies,

I experienced some disorientation this morning.  My watch said one time, but the phone and computer insisted it was an hour later.  I wondered if I'd been idiotic enough to set my watch to the wrong time and then didn't notice it for six days.  But that didn't make sense to me.  Then the euro dropped.  I looked on google, and sure enough last night was the transition to daylight savings time in the EU.
It's Sunday in Nice, so I decided to attend the markets.  I started up Avenue Jean Medecin, which is the main shopping street in Nice and also sort of pedestrianized because of the tram lines.  I could have taken the tram to Place Liberation, but it was a straight shot and flat so I walked it licking windows as I went.  The Avenue in question is named for a famous and revered figure in Nice History.  He was the mayor of the city.  Then suddenly he disappeared, only to reemerge in the Western Hemisphere in possession of the city treasury.  I guess that's one way to distinguish oneself enough to get a main street named after one.
Along the way, I encountered some heavily armed military as well as lots of police cars and officers.  I don't know if this is routine on a busy shopping day with crowds of people (Many stores now do open on Sunday in France) or if something was actually up.
Marche Liberation is where the locals come to shop.  It's mostly vegetables and fruits, and they are lovely.  Alas my digestion is too fragile for foreign veg.  I have tried, and the experiment ended badly.  But I like to look anyway.  The stall holders tout the fact that their products are from nearby named places.  This is a big market, and it was crowded and bustling.  The French also like to take their beloved dogs with them shopping.  This pleases me.
I strolled back down the avenue--licking windows as I walked, of course.  I dropped into the fancy shopping mall Nice Etoile to look around and also because by then I needed a toilet.  The mall is very nice, but not that big, and has the usual chains.  Since the ticket machine at the toilet was broken, the attendant waved us all in without us having to pay.  Score!
I also dropped into the big Sephora and helped myself to some perfume. Guerlain Terra Cotta.  Very nice.  And I looked around in case some magical anti aging treatment sat on the shelf.  Nope.
I then walked down to the Med and along the shore--because I could.  That's why.
I turned aside to go to the Cours Saleya Market.  It was packed with both humans and their dogs.  Big knots of tourists blocked the streets, but I persisted. I was after some authentic local food.  I had to wait for it though.  I arrived just as the last portion was sold, and the next portion would arrive by bicycle from the place it was actually made.  But I had the chance to people and dog watch.
Would you like a bite of the Nicoise specialty socca?  Of course, you would!  But since you are not here, I will be your proxy and taste it for you.  Socca is a huge pancake affair made with chickpea flour. It's fried and then slices are scraped up, pepper is added, and then the slices are wrapped in a paper cone.  The bits from around the edge of the socca are dark and crisp.  The bits from the middle are lighter and soft.  All are good!  Now I happen to like chickpeas or garbonzos---after all I eat hummus for breakfast, but this new form is tasty.  It doesn't have a strong or weird flavor, so no one should be afraid to try it.  It tastes like a chickpea pancake, and goes great with rose.
A demain

Meeting Matisse

Bon jour mes amies,

I took a bus today.  Two busses.  Nothing happened but a smooth journey there and back.
I began with a trip to the grocery store.  I just needed to pick up a few things, but as usual I became fascinated with the contents of the shelves and began to think of what else I could get and try.  I found some Pain Polaine, which I like very much, and shortly I will spread some Rocamador on a slice for apero.
I was in luck today, because I got two sites in one trip--well two and half if you count the Franciscan Monastery church I had a peek at.  My goal was the Musee Matisse, a popular sight in Nice.  The artist settled in the city enthralled as many artists were by the quality of the light and the vibrancy of the colors in the southern sunshine.  Our journey took us away from the city center up a hill and through a very elegant neighborhood.  A bunch of us got off at the proper stop.
The seven day museum pass which applies to all city museums is a bargain.  Individual admission to each costs ten euro.  Now if you are very energetic, you can use that one ticket for twenty-four hours on however many museums you can get to.  I am no longer that energetic, so the seven day ticket for twenty euro works well for me.
The museum is set in a park planted with olive trees.
I like Matisse's work a lot, and if you do as well, you will enjoy the collection.  The placards by the works discuss his life, techniques, and media.  Some very early works show Matisse as a skilled but conventional artist with a subdued palette.  Then on his honeymoon in Corsica, something seemed to awaken in him and his painting became freer and more colorful.  His drawings and paintings have a fresh, spontaneous look to them, but in fact Matisse thought deeply about each work and did preliminary drawings to work out his concepts.
Many of his bronze sculptures are exhibited.  I was impressed.  They are as expressive and as pleasing as his paintings.  Also on offer are his gouache and paper cut outs, which though simple have a compelling power.
After my museum visit I strolled around the lovely park.  It's Saturday so the Nissards were out enjoying the sunshine. The site also holds an archeological museum and an extensive set of ruins.  Since it took the museum pass, I could not resist.  Anyone who participated in my visit to Rome knows I love a good ruin.  In fact the Romans chose a site further inland for their chief settlement, and the city for long years was far more important than the city by the sea the Greeks had founded.  Cementelum was as large as Pompeii in its heyday, and boasted all the amenities of a proper Roman capital.  The artifacts in the museum are undistinguished although I did have fun at the activity (designed for children, so perfect for moi) that allowed the visitor to sniff at common Roman seasonings.  The real action is outside in the archeological park.  Most of what has been exposed is an extensive bath complex--worth a visit if you are there.  A bonus was the kitty cat waiting outside for me. "Bon jour, petite chat, je suis votre tante," I said petting the creature.
How nice that you have a new kitten friend.  What's for dinner?
The usual.  Fresh pasta called cappelletti filled with parma ham and dressed with olive oil and garlic.  It's not exciting to read about, but it is truly Mediterranean, and I rather crave the fresh pasta and oil, but I promise not to neglect actual Provencal specialties.  I am drinking Provencal rose AOP with the dinner anyway.
A demain

Castle Hill and Modern Art

Bon jour, mes amies,

I ended up doing a lot of climbing today of stairs and paths.  I went down a lot as well.
I began my day with a stroll along the sparkling Mediterranean.  I'm thinking I might begin every day that way.  This time I took the opposite direction from my walk yesterday.  I was headed toward the hill where the Greeks founded Nikaia, their City of Victory.  The hill is a great strategic location over looking a natural harbor and the sea lanes passing by.  Eventually the Romans took over, and the city became part of their Trans Alps Provence.
The hill was once the site of the Medieval city and held a fortress as well as the city's Romanesque Cathedral.  All is in ruins now except for the Tour Bellenda (Louis XIV took a very dim view of anyone but himself holding military power, so he had the castle razed.), but the top of the hill holds a lovely park, some interesting ruins, and snack bars.  It is possible to climb up.  I did not.  I took the free elevator up, but I did walk down.
Then having armed myself with a bus/tram pass that I got at the airport bus station, I went to catch the tram. I like trams!  They are not busses.  My goal was the Musee d'Arte Modern et de Contemporain.  I don't like all Modern Art, but truth to tell I don't like all the art from any period.  Nevertheless, I have been pleasantly surprised by Modern and Contemporary works.  Even if you don't care, the building is interesting and the views out the windows are spectacular!  You can also get even more fun views from the roof terrace.  I used my museum pass, which has now officially paid for itself, and I still have five days left on it.
The collection is solid.  I especially enjoy Nikki de St. Phalle.  She lived in the city and gave Nice some of her works.  The exhibit of Yves Klein was good although some of my fellow visitors seemed fed up with so much blue. Rauschenberg and Christo are also represented.
I still had some gumption left so I decided to walk home.  My way took me through a series of lively parks.  The afternoon was perfect, and a lot of folks enjoyed the outdoors.  Many had their dogs with them.
I'm still jet lagged, but I am hoping all this exercise will help.
Food and drink would help, too, Pil.
Ok. I'll start with a disc of Rocamador and some rose.  By the way, I'm not having this on fancy bread.  I got some whole wheat at the grocery store, and I like to toast it.  It's good! You can probably find yucky, empty calorie bread in Europe, but you'd have to look hard.  Plenty of processed junk in the grocery stores though.  Reminds me of home.
Dinner will be ravioli filled with goat cheese and herbs and dressed with Provencal olive oil and garlic accompanied by Provencal rose.  Look for food clearly labeled that does not have palm oil or hydrogenated oil.  Both are bad for you and the environment.  Europeans are also keen on avoiding GMOs.  I don't care as much, but oh boy do I love olive oil.  Demand is outpacing supply at the moment.  It may be expensive, but I think the taste and health benefits are worth it.
And dessert.  In this case it's a piece of that whole wheat bread spread with raw milk burre (i.e. butter) demi sel (lightly salted) churned rather than centrifuged or whatever they do with cream these days.  I tasted it by itself.  This is a supermarket brand. Nevertheless it's divine.  On top we find thick spreading of lavender honey.
Slaver.  Drool.
I will taste on your behalf.  Oh My God.  It is almost like a religious experience.  I think it's the underlying saltiness with the floral scent and taste on top.  It's very rich, and I expect best taken in small doses because of sugar and saturated fat--both of which I love passionately.
 A demain

A Shoreline Stroll and a Couple of Museums

Bon jour, mes amies,

I am still in the throes of jet lag, and this kir royale de mure I'm about to sip probably won't help.  Even if it doesn't it's delicious.  Kir is most commonly made with black current.  I am here to testify that blackberry (mure in French) works just as well.
There's a reason they call this region the Cote D'azure.  The Med is so very, very blue.  I had another day of brilliant weather.  It's sunny but not oppressive, and a fresh breeze comes off the water.
I began the day with another trip to the grocery store.  I needed more water and rose and took the opportunity to get more hummus ( I like it for breakfast) and some butter and eggs.
I needed a fairly easy day, but I also needed to get in some good walking.  Turning my face away from the historic center, I set off along the Promenade des Anglais.  Do you want to get an inkling of how the other .001% live?  I passed luxury boutique after luxury boutique, and then we enter the hotel zone.  I have no idea what one would pay for a sea view--plenty I imagine, but these hotels are beautiful buildings in themselves and look swank to the max.  I can't even imagine staying in one.  The most famous is the proud Negresco, which rightfully regards itself as a sight in itself and an historic monument. A couple of casinos break up the row of hotels.
My first target was the Musee des Beaux Artes, which I did eventually find.  My mistake was following the signs which took me in a large circle, but I did go through a real people neighborhood.  My problem was, once I found the museum, that the street was being torn up, and I was on the wrong side, so I had to take a longish detour to find a crossing.
I obtained a week pass for Nice's museums.  The collection is housed in the belle epoch villa of an Ukrainian Princess, who understandably preferred to spend her winters on the Riviera rather than Kiev.  The villa is lovely.  The collection is . . . (I don't want to be rude but)  . . . undistinguished.  Yeah, there are a couple of gems by Matisse and Chagal, and if you like Raoul Duffy you'd be pleased. The sculptures tend to be better than the paintings some of which--well, I don't want to be rude.
I descended the hill back to the Promenade and walked back to the Musee Massena. This building is even more spectacular than the villa.  It's a Neo Classical masterpiece with beautiful decoration.  It's also very heavy on Napoleon and his pals.  I like history, so I was entertained.
Then feeling tired and a bit footsore I made my way home.
You know what would entertain us readers?
Food and drink.
She's on to us!
Well, I've had my water.  Seriously, kids, it's important to stay hydrated.  Failure to do so will result in thirst and headaches at the least. I've enjoyed my kir, so how about some apero?
Don't be an Ugly American.  It's rude to come to France and not eat cheese.  I am having one of my favorites--Rocamador, which is not Provencal, but is widely available and very good.  I happen to like goat cheese, and this one is creamy and delicate.  It melts at room temperature, and I have spread a disc of it on toast.  Mmmmmm.  So creamy.  So rich tasting without being strong.  All that walking built up an appetite.  So this is even more divine than usual.  I'm sipping rose with it.  This works for me, but please note that I am a U.S. Citizen.  No French person would consider cheese as an appetizer.
So as to the main event for dinner. Keep in mind that as far as cuisine goes,  Southeastern France and Northwestern Italy may as well be regarded as one.  I'm having ravioli, but there's an experiment.  One bowl is dressed with pistou--the Provencal version of pesto.  The other is doused with Provencal extra virgin olive oli and seasoned with garlic and salt.
Oh boy.  I cannot say one is better than the other.  Both are wonderful, and the rose goes well with both.  Choose what you'd like.
I'll have a taste of lavender honey, a product that this region is famous for.  For wine and honey your minimal standard should be IGP (indication geographic protegee), but AOP (Appellation d'origine protegee).  Both guarantee a minimal standard of genuine ingredients and traditional manufacture.  Well, lavender everything is what the region is famous for.  Ooh boy.  This is one nice honey. The lavender flavor is not strong, but after the sweetness of the honey, there is a definite aftertaste that enriches the experience.  A winner for sure.
A demain

The Mediterranean At Last

Bon jour, mes amies

I have successfully transferred to my new room, which I like better than the old one, and I have even gained a view although not one overlooking the sea.  When we were flying in to Nice the pilot warned of possible bad weather. This has not materialized.  The sky is clear, and the temperature is pleasant.
I am so glad I chose to come here.  Nice is lovely!  And very much in an Italian Style, which is no surprise because until the middle of the nineteenth century, the city was part of the Kingdom of Savoy.  Many of the main streets have loggias reminiscent of Bologna, and many of the buildings are painted in pastel colors with Rococo ornamentation. I am happy to report that the food is rather Italian as well.
I did a lot of walking today and am now set to enjoy my apero--which is in fact the term used here rather than aperitif.
I got moved, and then I walked down the main shopping street to the big grocery store.  I bought only the bare necessities yesterday, since I knew I would be moving.  I splashed out more today.  I was warned that the grocery store was oddly organized, and it was certainly chaotic, but I love looking around, and could happily spend an hour or more just examining the offerings.
After bringing my takings home I went down to the Mediterranean--a mere five minutes from my aparthotel--and walked for a while along the shore.  The breeze off the water was refreshing, and I felt reasonably good and ready to get to know my new city.
I set off to explore Vielle Ville.  One interesting thing is that the street names and some sign posts are bilingual.  I don't mean French/English.  I mean French/Provencal.
Americans like me just love wandering narrow, twisty, dark streets.  There's nothing like this where I come from.  The old city is very touristy, and I can tell right now, that Nice will make it easy for me to spend money.
If you want tacky souvenirs, the city is willing to offer them up, but the discerning traveler need not settle for kitsch.  Lavender is everywhere. Do you want soap?  Herbes de Provence?  They are in abundance. The Cours Saleya is part flower market and part food market. It clearly caters to tourists, but since I am one, I did not mind. I got some lavender honey for which the region is famous.  I also bought some local olive oil at the market.  We will be tasting these tomorrow.
That's nice, Pil.  What are we tasting today, may I ask?
You certainly may ask.  My apero is Niçoise olives, some nuts I brought from home, and Cremant, the French non-Champagne sparkling wine that ordinary people can actually afford.  I got some creme de mure (blackberry) to go with it to make a Kir Royale, but the Cremant is just fine without it.
The main event is Pan Bagnat--bathed bread, which essentially Salade Niçoise in a bun that has been doused with olive oil.  I added more olive oil when I got home.  The trick is to let the oil soak into the crusty bun to soften it.
So what we have is a sandwich with tomatoes, hard boiled egg, radishes, sweet green pepper, olives (with pits, so watch out), tuna, and anchovy--doused in olive oil.  It sounds good to me!
I am under the impression that the only appropriate accompaniment to Provencal food is rose.  The market stalls and grocery stores are full of it.  You can buy other wine, but why would you? (Ok, yes, I did buy other wine.)  I have been scolded for liking rose, but it's now big all over France. The good folk of Provence have been known to toss ice cubes into their glasses when it gets hot.  I don't think we in California would dare!
Are you going to eat that sandwich or just look at it?
I cut it in half, and I'll see how my appetite goes.
Your appetite is notorious in these parts, Pil.
Stand back, everyone.  Having poured my rose, I'm about to take a bite.
How was it?
Mmmmm.  You get that great French bread, and then the taste of olive oil.  Wonderful tomato flavor!  I may just have to buy some tomatoes at the market.  But the magic is in the combination of all the ingredients.  Rose is perfect with it.  Just please note that a zillion different recipes for the true, authentic Pan Bagnat exist.  I expect that they are all wonderful, so enjoy--except for the ones with cheese and meat other than fish because although I love cheese and meat other than fish it's just wrong with this.
And yet more Provencal food treats are in store.  Have I mentioned that I'm happy to be here?
There may be more conventional tourist action tomorrow.  Nice has some fabulous museums.
A demain

Nice to Meet You!

Bonjour mes amies!

Pil thinks she's So Cute with the title--because she's in the city of Nice, don't you know.
It's not just me being cute. It actually said "Nice to Meet You!" at the airport. Let me take another sip of my chilled Provencal rose.  Very refreshing after my long journey.  I am very glad to be here.  What I have seen of the city so far is lovely and so glamorous it reminded me of Hollywood.  I got my first glimpse of the Mediterranean, which startled me with its impossibly deep blue color.
I hope the rest of the trip goes smoothly.  Usually something happens that causes frustration or disappointment.  This trip started out that way, and I hope all the problems are over.
I use a shared ride van to get to the airport, and I've gone with the same outfit for years, and they have been reliable and courteous.  This time their website didn't work, so I had to call the 800 number to reserve my ride.  I'm pretty sure it was an international call number.  The nice young man had an accent, and he'd never heard of my airline and had a hard time with it even after I spelled the name five times.  Ok, but it got done taking twenty minutes instead of the usual five on the web.
Time for pick up.  I was waiting at the curb when I got a message that my reservation had been canceled.  What?!!!  Noooo.  I called customer service and explained.  My call got dropped, and no one called me back.  I called back.  Nada.
Fine.  I had to get to the airport, and international security is no joke.  I called a taxi.  Fortunately the guy came right away, and traffic was light.  Also I'm flying premium economy these days, so I didn't have to wait in line for check in and got routed to a fast lane security clearance.
Clearly I'm here so it worked out.  Our flight arrived late at Heathrow, but I still had time to change terminals and pick up some Fortnum and Masons tea at duty free.
The flight to Nice was happily uneventful.  The bus into town went right along the coast to the Promenade des Anglais.  Somehow the sight of some beautiful buildings combined with that deep blue water lifted my spirits instantly.
I found my aparthotel easily and received a kind and helpful welcome.  The charming young man at reception even gave me a bottle of water.  I went out and got a few groceries.  They are moving me across the street tomorrow, but this is a nice place in a great location.  Rue Massena is pedestrianized and within walking distance of lots and lots of fun stuff.
Tomorrow I am going to do some city orientation and wander the Promenade and visit the old city.
A demain.