Nice was Nice!

Bon jour, mes amies,

I am greeting you from Heathrow Airport Terminal 3.  My trip here was smooth, and I hope the next legs of my journey goes well.
I was very sorry to leave Nice.  I enjoyed a gracious welcome and a pleasant stay in the beautiful city, and I loved exploring the area despite the dirty weather.  I get into such French habits quickly.  If no traffic is coming we feel free to cross against the lights, and I also I find that South of France drivers are courteous to pedestrians.
The weather turned again.  I checked out and had a hike to where I could get the airport bus.  I looked on line and saw wildly optimistic estimations of how long it took to get through security, so I'm glad I opted to get to the airport early.
At check in the airline was refusing carry on bags to some travelers.  I was prepared to fight.  I have a connecting flight, and I did not want my carry on checked through to LAX.  You can try prying my laptop from my cold, dead hand, but you still won't get it away from me.  Fortunately, my bag was cleared for carry on with no issue.
I found a Pret a Manger, which is probably my favorite fast food outlet and spent some Euros on a wrap.  I ate half on the plane and half here, and I'm glad I got it in France.  For one thing I had Euros, for another the Pret in Terminal Three seems to have vanished.
Oddly passport control in Nice was after security and duty free and right before the gates.  One family was very anxious as they had heard the final call for their flight and the line was slow.  I told them to go ahead of me (Travelers' Code: We help each other.), and they were absurdly grateful.  I hope they made their flight.  And speaking of Travelers' Code, I am grateful to the gentlemen who offer to lift my carry on bag up and down from the overhead bins.
Before I close I want to express some profound sympathy for my former host country France on the fire damage done to Notre Dame de Paris.  The video of the spire falling is horrifying, and I hope that the rebuilding goes quickly and well.
Thank you for sharing my journey!
Au revoir.

Monaco Part II: Le Rocher

Bon jour, mes amies,

I'm back a bit later because it's a lovely, warm day, and I had some errands to do after my day trip.  I don't know if it's Mondays in general or the Monday after Palm Sunday that is such a big travel day, but the stations and the trains were packed.  I arrived at the station in what I thought was plenty of time, but the ticket office seemed really backed up.  I missed the train I wanted by minutes.  Oh well, another will come along.  And it was packed!  People were standing in the aisle, and the announcement that there were pickpockets on board did not help matters.
I took a different exit out of Monaco's train station and followed the signs. It was a fair walk to Le Rocher--the Rock of Monaco, and then I had to climb the thing, but fortunately my trip has put me in decent shape as most places in the Mediterranean are pretty vertical.
I walked through the charming old town to the Palace and got my ticket, which includes the audio guide.  Most of the palace is closed to visitors as it is the official residence of the Grimaldi Family, and they actually do live there.  The State Apartments are worth a visit.  I've seen grander palaces, but I liked this one.  It's very Italian in style of architecture and decoration, but the connection of the Principality with the French Crown is emphasized.  The Grimaldis still being in charge of the place, you can't expect any dirt to be dished, so the commentary is mostly about the decor.  The rooms are beautifully decorated with some rather marvelous furnishings.
After using one of the copious, clean, and free toilets I proceeded to the Oceanographic Museum.  It's housed in a magnificent Nineteenth Century Building, but the real action is downstairs in the Aquarium.  There's a reason it attracts such crowds. The fishy exhibits are amazing and quite beautiful.  The Grimaldi Family has always sponsored oceanic research and has made environmental protection one of their causes.
By this time I'd had my fill of walking and climbing about, but I had provided myself with a bus ticket and rode the bus through the city to the station.
What?  No visit to the famed Casino?
Apparently it's quite beautiful, but no.  I have no comprehension of the pleasures of gambling.  I respect money, and the effort it takes to get it, too much to treat the stuff like a toy.
The trip back home went smoothly, and I am enjoying my dinner of pasta with tomato sauce and rose.
I'm leaving tomorrow (sigh) just as the weather has turned spring like.
A demain

A Hard but "Nice" Day Shopping

Bon jour, mes amies,

I normally do my shopping the day before I leave, but I have other plans for tomorrow, and the market will be closed on Monday, so today I gathered my euros and shopping bag and set forth.  Ground zero for tourist shopping--and I am a tourist, so that's how I shop--is, of course the Vielle Ville and Cours Saleya.  It was cool and partly cloudy, but still a fine day for shopping, and it seemed that every tourist in Nice had the same idea I did.
The streets of the old town are narrow, and most of the shops are small, but what really gets clogged are the aisles in the outdoor market. This is true of every market I have attended.  People are looking.  They stop. They take photos or just stand and chat.  Pet owners have to pick up their tiny dogs and carry them, so they don't get trampled.  Fortunately no one was smoking today. Maybe this is a new market etiquette that has developed.
I had a good look around scouting out the things I thought my friends would like that are typical of the area.  I covered a lot of ground and got some good walking in as well.  I found what I was looking for although some of it took a bit of hunting.  I paid cash.  Some market stall owners will take credit cards, but even the regular shop keepers have a price minimum below which they will not.
I asked at Reception about the reed weaving I saw done.  She had never heard of it--or possibly I was not describing it well because she thought it might be non-European immigrants.  No. The people involved were definitely Europeans of some sort.  I saw a lot being done today, and I am almost certain it's a traditional craft for Palm Sunday.  A stand had been set up on front of one of the churches, and some monks were doing the braiding.  The shapes are very pretty.  I also saw people carrying olive branches because that's their version of the "palm," even though actual palm trees are abundant in this climate zone.  People do the same in Italy, and I wonder if it's the same in Spain and Greece.
I came back a bit early because a major cycling race is on today--the Hell of the North more commonly known as Paris-Roubaix, which is a one day race and difficult and therefore valued because of the stretches of rough cobblestones.  I've never ridden a bike on cobblestones.  It seems awful to me, and this race features many flat tires, crashes, and ditch landings.  To brag a bit I understand cycling terms in six languages.  How's that for dedication?
One of the things I did was stop by my favorite food stand Chez Theresa for a pan bagnat.  This will provide a hearty and refreshing dinner after my exertions.  I eat the olives first because of the pits.
And bleah.  It's turned cold and nasty again.  I needed to put the heat on in my apartment, and rain is falling.
A demain

Return to Villefranche-sur-Mer

Bon jour, mes amies,

The forecast was for rain and cold, so I planned to go to Monaco and do indoor activities, but the day dawned bright and sunny, and I didn't need my layers when I went grocery shopping, so I decided to take the bus to Villefranche-sur-Mer.  I liked the place, and I was determined to see the Chapelle St. Pierre.
The approach to Villefranche by bus is much different than by train and far more scenic.  The bus stops at the top of the town, and the tourist action is near the port, so what goes down must inevitably come up again.  I got a lot of exercise.  It's good for me.
I lucked into a Marche Provencal in one of the squares.  I didn't buy anything, but it's fun to look.  This one seemed to cater to tourists rather than locals though.
I followed the (misleading) signs for the Tourist Office.  Now I did eventually find it by accident because the location was not anywhere near where the signs were pointing and in fact the location was in the opposite direction the signs indicated. Odd.
Since it was a gorgeous weekend day, Villefranche's old town was crowded.  I love prowling the streets and looking in touristy shops, but a couple of times I got stuck behind a smoker.  It seems to me that fewer people smoke now or fewer people do in public.  The EU has mounted a years-long anti smoking campaign, and they have recently added anti vaping.
I also want to note that Villefranche has nice public toilets, and they are free.  Nice has plenty of public toilets, too, and they are fine, but they cost fifty euro cents.
I found the Chapelle de St. Pierre.  It's a Romanesque gem, a small chapel dedicated to the patron saint of fishermen, and if you know anything about the Gospels, it makes sense that this is St. Peter himself.  I found the exterior very Italianate.  It's highly decorated but the decorations are not "traditional."  The exterior and interior designs were done by Jean Cocteau.
Yes. That Jean Cocteau.  I know his cinematic work the best.  Beauty and the Beast is magical! But he was also a poet, novelist--and it turns out a brilliant designer and artist.  He was the friend to all the artistic elite of the early Twentieth Century, but his closest relationship--the nature of which is still ambiguous--was with Raymond Radiguet. When his friend died leaving Cocteau devastated,  he came to Villefranche-sur-Mer to find some peace.  He also began to renew his spiritual life.
In the late 1950s he persuaded the town government to let him restore and decorate the Chapelle de St. Pierre.  Photography is forbidden to the visitor, but you can find photos on line, and I encourage you to have a look.  Cocteau created fresh looking, direct representations of scenes from the life of St. Peter as well as references to local life and customs.  I found the simple yet compelling frescos both beautiful and moving.
But then I faced the steep climb up the hill to the bus stop.  It had turned hot and humid, and I even took off my sweater. But the ride back was refreshing enough and the weather so pleasant, I walked back from the bus stop through the parks.  I see through my window that it's clouded over again, which does not surprise me given how humid it became.
I was very hungry when I got home--thirsty, too, but I always drink water.  I'm having a big apero of rillettes on one slice of toast, and Rocamador goat cheese on another.  Both are divine.
A demain

Port-St-Jean-Cap-Ferrat: Woodland and Coastal Walk

Bon jour, mes amies,

My tram stop to come home is right in front of Galeries La Fayette, so I came home scented with a fresh tuberose with some herbal background.  Nice job, Guerlain.
Well, we got up to 16C today, which was actually a comfortable 61F as long as I kept moving.  The clouds were thin, and the sunshine was weak, but I thought it would be a good day to return to St-Jean-Cap-Ferrat and see the port and walk around a bit.  I figured even if the weather turned nasty the bus ride there and back would be scenic.
St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat is known as a haven for gazillionaires, but the town is pretty and unpretentious and I walked through a neighborhood that housed ordinary folks.  But as I started to climb away from the port, I began to pass walled compounds.  It was very quiet.  The roads are two way streets, but so narrow that only one vehicle can pass at a time.
I came upon the Jardin de la Paix which leads to one of the walks around the peninsula. One thing I love to do and had missed so far is a woodland walk.  I don't count my strolls through olive groves, but the path took me through lush Mediterranean forest.  All I could hear was the slosh of the waves on the shore, the hum of insects, and the chirping of birds.
I emerged at the end of the cape where I learned from a sign (I don't speak French, but I can mostly read it) that the cape got its name "Ferrat" from the rugged nature of its coastline, and indeed the evidence was right before me.  Jagged rocks jut out into the sea at every turn.
The walk is flat and not difficult, but the path can be very uneven and not to be attempted in sandals or flimsy shoes.
I went most of the way around and then turned inland to have a look at the Chapel de St.-Hospice.  I ended up not knowing where I was.  Having been in this situation before, I know to keep going, and presently I climbed high enough to catch a glimpse of the port, so I knew which direction to go.  I passed the Plage Paloma, a pretty beach popular in warmer weather.  No one was there today as far as I could tell.
This was a good way to spend the day.  My eyes were filled with beauty, and I enjoyed the fresh salt air of the sea.  All that walking worked up an appetite, so it's time for some achoiade and rose.  Then I'm going to wash my hair.
A demain

Damp and Cold

Bon jour, mes amies,

It got all the way up to 15C this afternoon.  That's 59F for you Americans.  The United States really needs to convert to metric.  I'm on my way to being bi measurement.
I had some chores to do this morning, getting cash, recycling, buying groceries, and then I set out hoping that it would warm up and stay dry and that I could get on a bus or train or something.  Nope on both.  Then I discovered my umbrella was broken.  Fortunately although wonky, it still functioned.
Even though I did not go anywhere in particular, I did walk a lot as I enjoy the city, and I worked up an appetite.  I'm having a rather rich apero.  I toasted some bread and on one slice I have some creamy goat cheese.  On the other I have rillettes de poulet.  Rillettes are one of those traditional country dishes born of the necessity of conserving food.  The most authentic kind are made with pork.  You can do this at home by cooking the heck out of a chicken or some other meat then stewing the meat in fat and adding salt and pepper or other herbs and spices should you fancy them.  The chicken or other meat should be pounded or processed into a paste.  Then you can pack it in a container and cover it with more fat if you wish to keep it for a while.  It's really good!  I don't bother making rillettes at home because I can always come to France.
So I just walked around licking windows and going in and out of stores.  In Sephora I sniffed something called Costa Azzura.  How cool, I thought, squirting myself liberally, Cote d'Azur in Italian.  Phew.  Nasty!  I was sorry immediately.
I walked around the fancy shopping mall.  It's a lot like those in the United States even unto the Starbucks, which was packed.  European shopping malls offer wifi, and I saw a lot of folks taking shelter from the weather and playing with their phones.  Most of the stores are about clothing, but candy is also big.  The Nissards are preparing for an Easter sugar orgy.  The displays in candy stores--and oh are they beautiful--are of giant chocolate eggs, bunnies, and ducklings.  The mall stores are chains with electronics, books, furniture--whatever you fancy.  One store I always like going in is called Nature Decoverte.  It's got everything from travel gear to boutique toiletries to educational material.
Then I trammed up to the Marche Liberation, which was much less crowded on a rainy weekday.  It's huge and makes no concessions to tourists.  I was enthralled and a bit grossed out by the fish stands.  The Mediterranean Diet is fishy, and I eat a lot of fish at home, but the variety and the--er--natural state of said fish was overwhelming.  What do you fancy?  Finned fish by the dozens were laid out.  Shell fish.  Crabs.  I even saw octopus.  All of these creatures had their full body parts including eyes.  I'm a fillet--please don't have what I'm eating look like it was once a real live animal--sort of fish eater.  Or give me fish in cans.  Or achoiade.
Something else I noticed that surprised me.  In Paris the market rule is "Ne toucher pas."  Do not touch the product.  The vendor will chose for for or pick up what you point at.  I have found this the case in other markets in other countries.  In Nice the buyers were picking out, i.e. touching their own tomatoes, peppers, etc.
Since it had warmed up all the way to 15C I decided to walk home in the rain, and I came across something else I had not seen before.  On one block some older woman had set up stands.  They'd cut reeds and braided them into elaborate and beautiful patterns and shapes and were creating more.  What an interesting skill.  It must be traditional to the region, and I wondered if this was another Easter preparation.
A demain

Monaco Part 1

Bon jour, mes amies,

Rain and cold were in the forecast, but instead we got a sunny, warmish day.  I was going to travel to Monaco no matter what, but I was glad to have decent weather, and I changed my plans a little.  There's a lot to see in Monaco, so I decided to devote two days to it.  I was going to take the bus down to the old town, but it was so pleasant I walked around the upper town and visited some parks and museums.
I'm having my achoiade with rose this time.  Good.  Salty, but good, and I did truly work up an appetite.
I walked a lot and climbed a lot of hills and steps.  Monaco is very vertical, and public elevators will take pedestrians up and down some places.  The train station is odd as well.  It seems to be all underground with more passages and elevators and not a conventional welcome hall even though it's still SNCF.
But let's have some history!  The Principality of Monaco is really its own sovereign country, the second smallest in the world after Vatican City.  Its status was confirmed in the mid Nineteenth Century and later in the early Twentieth through treaties with France.  Truth to tell Monaco exists only by French sufferance, and I figure the French put up with it because the Principality draws visitors to the area, and they spend money in France.  The treaty states that as long as the Grimaldi Dynasty exists, so does Monaco, which explains the angst about the current Prince Albert's seeming reluctance to marry.  He is married now, and anyway his sisters Caroline and Stephanie have plenty of kids between them.  When I was growing up Princess Grace of Monaco was a huge deal--an American actress married to royalty!  Who could imagine?  Meghan Markle for one.
I followed the signs to the Jardin Exotique, and it's quite a walk from the train station, but I passed a lot of fancy buildings. The garden is a lot of fun with winding paths and, yes, exotic foliage, but the views! Oh my. The views of the port (and its yachts. I wonder if my disdain for giant yachts would survive an invitation to go on one.), the old town on its fortress rock, and the layer upon layer of closely packed buildings and humanity.
Monaco reminded me of Hong Kong--it's packed, and seems a nice place to visit, but I am dubious about living there.
I visited the Anthropological Museum as well.  It's in the Jardin Exotique and the admission is included.  I also stopped in on a public recreation area called the Princess Antoinette Garden with more nice paths and a lot of different play areas for children.  I came upon some animals, too.  One goat apparently thought I had or was something to eat and came right up to me.
I plan to return to the Principality and do the old town and the palace.  Monaco is a class act.  The public toilets are free!
A demain

Antibes

Bon jour, mes amies,

First let's have a sip of Crement and a bit of apero.  Anchoiade is a popular appetizer in this area.  Yes.  It's made with anchovies.  Yes.  It's a bit fishy.  I don't love anchovies, but I don't mind them either, so this tastes pretty good to me although it is saltier than I would like.  I'm going to try making a less salty version when I get home.
I can see the spreading of thunder clouds from my window, so I think that spells the end of our sunny weather for now, but I had a good day out.
I went to the train station and got my ticket, snooted around some shops and then went to wait on my platform. You know how I'm always reminding travelers to Europe to validate their tickets?  When I got to my platform I realized with horror I'd forgotten to do so.  This is a very naughty thing to do and can get the passenger in trouble. The ticket is read electronically so there was no going out and coming back in, but I did go down to the gates and stood as close to the machine as possible and looked pathetic.  A nice looking group of girls came along and I waved my ticket at them and said, "S'il vous plait?  Compostez?"  One of them helped me with a gracious smile.
As it happened no one looked at the ticket going or coming so I could have gotten away with it.  The ride was short and not very picturesque.  Even Nice has its Corbusier Villles, industrial parks, and hypermarche centers.
But the sun shone on my visit to Antibes.  The walk from the train station via the marina (What ho the yachts!) to the old town was longer than I anticipated, and I began looking for toilet, which at last I did find.  I took the occasion to remove one of my layers as it had warmed up nicely.
I strolled through the old town and up the hill to my target for the day--the Picasso Museum.  I could not visit the Cathedrale next door because a funeral was being held.  A visit to the Picasso Museum is somewhat time sensitive as it closes in the middle of the day for a couple of hours, but I made it in good time.  The museum is housed in the old Chateau Grimaldi built on the site of the original Greek settlement of Antipolis and the Roman castrum that replaced it.  The Grimaldis of Monaco gave up the fortress to the city.  The collection is fascinating and includes paintings, drawings, lithographs, sculptures, and ceramics most of them created in Antibes itself.  Also on display are works by some of Picasso's friends.  I especially appreciated the informative panels by each work.
After that I visited the covered Marche Provencal and tried not to drool.  The market was lively and only semi touristy, and there are a lot of places to eat nearby, and in the old town generally, which is very touristy but pretty and a lot of fun to walk around.
Then back to the train station and home.  Since the weather was pleasant I even walked home from the station, and this, of course, worked up my appetite, which my apero has appeased somewhat.
Rain or shine, I have plans for tomorrow.
A demain

Villa de Ephrussi de Rothschild, St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat

Bon jour, mes amies,

Although still chilly the day dawned bright and sunny.  Few things are open on Mondays, but I was in luck today because had a fun visit to lovely St-Jean-Cap-Ferrat and the splendid house and gardens of the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild built in the early Twentieth Century.  We will learn what a combination of unimaginable wealth and good taste can achieve.
I trammed out to the bus stop, which was the same as I took to Beaulieu-sur-Mer, so I had no trouble finding it.  Oof.  It was cold waiting, but the bus was warm, and the ride along the coast highly scenic.
St-Jean-Cap-Ferrat is a gorgeous wooded peninsula known mainly for its exclusive enclaves of really, Really, REALLY rich people.  I saw some of the homes, which are amazing but alas not open to the prying eyes of the public.  That's ok. We get to look into a Belle Epoch creation personally designed by Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild.  She evidently was quite a character, but I cannot fault her sense of style or her taste in art.  She was a collector and had the money to spend on it and the good judgement to buy significance and quality.
It's easy to get to.  The bus dumped us off right at the entrance.  Even the walk up to the villa provided magnificent views.  Admission includes an audio guide, which I found very helpful and a lot less cheesy than Kerylos's.  It provides some juicy gossip about the family as well as solid information about the house, furnishings, and art collection.
Beatrice acquired a distinguished collection of Late Medieval and Early Renaissance paintings and tapestries as well as porcelain and Chinoiserie.  What can you say about rooms that contain desks that used to belong to Marie Antoinette, or rugs made for Louis XV, or drawings made by Boucher for Mme de Pompadour herself?  One can merely gawk in astonishment.  Some of the ceiling frescos are by Tieopolo for heavens sake.  The collection is eclectic and reflects Beatrice's sometimes eccentric tastes.  We are informed that the Belle Epoch above all meant reaching over the top, but in this case the extravagance had a good effect.
The gardens are as entrancing as the house.  Beatrice conceived of seven gardens in different styles and the layout follows her conception.  Most visitors hang out in the large French garden right behind the house (Well, that's where the fountains are, so I can't blame them), but a little exploration leads to a variety including Spanish, Florentine, and Japanese.  You'll need to wear your stout shoes for these because the going can be a bit rough and uneven.
Beatrice clearly chose the site for the views.  You can see both sides of the peninsula and even look back to Villefranche.  The views alone are worth the trip.
Dinner is the rest of the ravioli Nicoise.  I'll need to get some more of that nice tomato sauce Provencal.  Interestingly they use the Italian word for sauce--sugo, and a lot of things are labeled in Italian here.  The food here is so good and actually fairly healthful.  It's the Mediterranean Diet after all.
A demain

Stormy Weather

Bon jour, mes amies,

According to the BBC this nasty weather is the result of the jet stream dipping further south than normal, and the wet and cold stretches from the Atlantic right across into Turkey.  The bad news is that today is wet, cold and miserable.  The good news is that it apparently will warm up a bit next week, and I'll still have time for some good tourist action.
I went out and did a little shopping.  One exciting purchase was more dental floss.  Prowling the narrow streets of the Old City, I scoped out the stores with fun regional products.  But few people were out and about, and pretty soon I did not want to be out and about either.  Brrr!
So I came home.  I'm still in layers waiting for the heater in my room to work.  I'm hard cooking some eggs for a bit of extra protein, but I'll want a hot meal.
And also for apero I have treated myself to Kir Royale this time made with actual black current--Creme de Cassis.  What makes it royal is the sparkling wine.
For dinner I am having some tortellini filled with ricotta and spinach, which I will dress with garlic and olive oil--very Italian, and yet still appropriate cuisine for this region.  If something is labeled a la Provencal immediately suspect garlic, olive oil, and tomatoes at the least.  Looking around me I perceive that olive oil is the life blood of Provence. My food will be accompanied as always by rose.
And then for dessert a slice of toasted Pan Polaine toasted and thickly spread with some wonderful butter and even more wonderful lavender honey.  I love the butter and would eat mountains of it every day except for the saturated fat and the unfortunate effects raw milk butter has on my digestion.  But a little once in a while is a lovely treat.
A demain

Beaulieu-sur-Mer

Bon jour, mes amies,

Armed with more up-to-date information I made it to Beaulieu-sur-Mer, which lives up to its name.  It is indeed a beautiful place.  The only issue I had today was the cold.  Despite the layers I was uncomfortable, and had it been warmer I would have walked around more.
I wrote and mailed some postcards and then, since it wasn't raining, caught the tram to where I could pick up the bus.  I had actually seen the bus yesterday, but I did not realize it was the one, but I found the stop easily.  Then I had to wait in the cold--and it seemed like forever.  I used my transport pass on the tram and busses to and from, but I'm running out of trips and will need another.  I do want to say that the transport passes are worth getting.  Regular single fare is 1.50 Euro, but the pass gets you ten trips for ten Euro, and you can spend the rest of the money on cheese,
The bus went through a part of Nice I had not seen--a more real people neighborhood--and then on to the port.  The marina definitely not for real people was full of yachts, and one of them was large enough to be vulgar.  The rest of the ride was so scenic as to be worth the trip all on its own.  We climbed along the cliff but still over looked the sea.  I got to see the back, non-touristy part of Villefranche-sur-Mer.
Then we arrived in Beaulieu-sur-Mer, and I got off at my stop.  Beaulieu is famous for its Belle Epoch architecture, and I saw some of it, but my target was in a very different style.  Villa Kerylos was built as a holiday home in the early Twentieth Century by a Philo-Hellenist with both time and money on his hands.  Theodore Reinach devised his plans and hired a young architect to recreate a classical Greek home for himself and his family.  His vision took six years and (in today's money) thirty-five million Euro to realize.
The setting itself overlooking the bay is lovely.  I got the audio guide--cheesy but informative, which I thought enhanced my experience considerably. Guided tours are on offer, but I do not know if they are given in English.
The villa (a Latin term, but I don't know what else to call it) is exquisite.  Along with the pastiche, Reinach collected and displayed Ancient Greek artifacts and copies of Greek statuary.
His architect and designer Emmanuel Pontremoli saw to every detail from the beautifully mosaiced floors, to the frescoed walls, and coffered ceilings.  The furniture looked uncomfortable because it was modeled after those of Ancient Athens.  Some rooms had elegant marble friezes or marble paneling.  Pontremoli even managed to design stoneware painted in Greek design and adapted modern cutlery to a Greek style.  The Greeks did not use forks and ate with their hands.  M. Reinach and his family did not need to be be that authentic!
So I had a good visit.  I caught the bus back by the train station and it dumped us out in Place Garibaldi where I picked up the tram for home.  The station is right in front of Galeries LaFayette, so I came home smelling of oriental wood.
I had to put on the radiator to take the chill off the room, and I needed a hot dinner.  How about a version of Ravioli Nicoise?  It's filled with a beef stew sort of affair with chard or something similar and some cheese like parmesan if you have it.  I dressed mine in tomato sauce with olives with some extra olive oil, and it's great with rose.
A demain

Where's the Bus Stop?

Bon jour, mes amies,

I'm going to have a bite of Pan Bagnat, which is my consolation for a somewhat disappointing day.  Mmm.  These things are So Good!  It's probably one of those foods that is never as good outside its area.  I smell like a sweet liqueur made of Bulgarian Roses courtesy of Guerlain and Galeries LaFayette.  It's their latest offering--nice but very heady.  Sniffing it will make you feel like you had a gulp of said liqueur.
At any rate, the day while chilly, dawned with brilliant sunshine.  I planned to go to Beaulieu-sur-Mer another one of those small coastal towns.  I'd looked up the busses and the stop.  After a trip to the grocery store, I trammed out and found a bus stop--not for my bus.  But there were a lot of bus stops, so I persisted until I ran out.  I also saw zillions of busses go by, and none of them was the one I wanted.
I kept looking everywhere I could think of.  I got a lot of good walking done, and time spent in Nice is never wasted.  It's just lovely.  I walked along the Mediterranean marveling as always at how blue it is.  This is what I was going to do in Beaulieu-sur-Mer anyway.  I kept my eyes peeled for busses.  Nope.  I hunted up the Tourist Information Office faithfully following the signs.  The place if it exists must be in another dimension.  I walked through a lot of parks though, so that part was pleasant.
Well, I did cover a lot of ground today, and although I did not reach my destination, I do feel I did some Tourist Dharma, and I have time to make trips out of town even if I have to take the train.  But the weather looks like it's going to turn again.
I made my way at last to Cours Saleya Market and to Chez Theresa my favorite stand and a great place to pick up Nicoise specialities.  Madame speaks English well.  Usually the place is packed, but I had a bit of luck.  No one else was around.
I like to bathe my bread in a little extra olive oil when I get home.  And of course I drink it with rose.
A demain

Cathedrale Russe and a loop around Nice

Bon jour, mes amies,

I am shameless. I walk into department stores or places like Sephora and help myself to squirts of expensive perfume.  This time it was the latest from Hermes--Jardin de Something or Other.  It's nice, too.  A bit spicy.  A bit citrusy.
Let me settle into my apero, which I earned today.  I am having some nuts brought from home along with the rose.
You get a little more tourist action today, but there was a giant thunderstorm last night and hard rain.  Today was ok.  I'm cautiously optimistic about tomorrow, but the weather outlook over all is not looking good.  Before I arrived Nice was in drought, so I must have brought the California Drought Busting vibes with me.
It's still chilly and a bit drippy, but layers sufficed today and a lot of walking kept me warm.  I could have trammed or bussed to my target and if the weather had turned nasty or I was feeling as chilled as I did yesterday, I would have taken public transportation, but it was ok.  I set off down my pedestrianized street and did some comparison shopping for postcards.  Ha! I found a cheap source and got some for half the price others were asking.  Later I popped into the main post office in Nice (La Poste also acts as a bank) and bought stamps. Here's my method.  I display my postcards and say, "Je voudrais dix timbres pour ce cartes postales a Les Etats Unis." I hold up ten fingers. The kindly postal clerks get the message even with my deplorable accent.
Two friends of mine, who are familiar with Nice and know of my interest in Art History insisted that I go see the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of St. Nicholas.  Among the people who came to play on the Cote d'Azure were Russian aristocrats, and of course they brought their entourages, and various other Russians came along to work in the area.  In the early Twentieth Century this church was built for them by Tsar Nicholas II himself, and is evidently the largest Russian Orthodox Church outside of Russia.  It is spectacular!
It's set in a small park with a cafe, and there was an unexpected bonus.  Bunny Rabbits.  Oui.  Lapins. So cute and furry.  Tame, too.  One of them let me pet it and stroke its ears.
The church itself is a central plan affair with the usual arrangement of onion domes--one large one surrounded by four smaller ones.  Designs and images of saints decorate the exterior.  The interior is dim, but very beautiful.  A large iconostasis covers the wall by the altar.  I saw some icons that looked old and very precious.  This is a living church and no mere tourist attraction, so there are no labels for the visitor.
At certain times of day Nice smells like food--and it's a good smell, starting around 11:30 when people might start thinking of lunch or a snack.  My walk took me past bakeries, and a lot of candy stores.  A few hardy and well-wrapped souls braved the outdoor terraces of cafes and restaurants.
The beggars were back out as well.  A few days ago I gave some money to a bent over crippled old lady, mostly because I don't want to end up that way.  Most beggars seem to be able bodied immigrant women, and I ignore them.  One guy I could not believe.  I wanted to say to him, "Honey, if you are soliciting money from strangers, don't be talking on your cell phone."  This seems like a supremely boring and uncertain way to make a living.
A demain

Rainy Day Nice

Bon jour, mes amies,

The weather has turned just for today, I hope, and this photo does not reflect the dark skies.  I have stout shoes and an umbrella, and when I travel I always expect rain, so I can cope.  The problem is that today is also Really Cold, and for that I'm not equipped.  I layered up to the extent I was able, and it was not enough.  So I scraped my plans for a day trip and just snooted around town and came home early to wash my hair.  The scent is of a sort of soapy musk.  Meh. I don't think I can make that interesting, and I don't have anything fabulous to eat either, so how about a little history?
Humans have been living in in this very pleasant area for a hundred thousand years, but the history starts with the Greeks who brought the Mediterranean Triad, wheat, olives, and the vine to the coast as another Indo European group the Gauls were moving into the area in land.  Most of the major cities along the southern coast of France are Greek foundations.
But it was the Romans who had the most lasting impact.  Provence is so called because it was a Roman province, and the area is famous for its spectacular Roman remains.  Roads linked Italy with conquered territory north of the Alps and also ran westward to Spain.  The language of the Gauls faded away to be replaced by Latin and then dialects based on it like Occitan.  And, of course, Christianity arrived.
I'll skip lightly over the Middle Ages and most of the Early Modern Period.  Like most of Europe the borders of kingdoms and linguistic borders seldom corresponded in the Mediterranean.  Eastern Provence ended up as part of the sprawling multi cultural Duchy of Savoy, and then after the French Revolution was almost cleaned up belonged to Savoy's successor state the Kingdom of Piedmont.  In the mid Nineteenth Century when national unification movements swept Europe, Piedmont made a deal with France.  Nice and its hinterlands spoke French.  The King of Sardinia-Piedmont and his prime minister wanted to unite Italy so were willing to let the French speakers go in return for France helping Sardinia-Piedmont gain Italian territory from Austria.  But the cultural and culinary ties with Italy remained close.
After France acquired Nice and the Cote d'Azure the place with its mild climate became a popular playground for the rich and aristocratic and the magical southern light drew in artists.  The luxurious and artistic results still remain, and I hope to be visiting and sharing some with you.
Dinner is some gnocchi dressed in garlic and olive oil.  And I use olive oil lavishly because it's so good here. Very Med wouldn't you say?--especially with the rose that I'm enjoying here.
A demain

Villefranche-sur-Mer

Bon jour, mes amies.

I have completed my first week here, so I figured it was time to take my first (I hope of many) trips out of town.  I chose a close and easy destination--Nice's next door neighbor, the small town of Villefranche-sur-Mer.
I trammed up to the stop for the train station, but one still has to walk a bit.  I could not find a ticket machine that 1) took bills and coins and 2) worked, so I had to wait in line at the ticket office.  The money is collected by machine.  The woman at the counter understood what I wanted, but evidently she did not speak English beyond that because she gave me instructions on how to pay in French, and she kept saying in French push the picture.  I understood that much but push where? What picture?  She clearly thought I was an idiot, but I figured out at last one had to slide the bill into the machine next to where one deposits coins.  So it was done.
Remember most railroad companies in Europe require validation of tickets on public transportation.  There are yellow "Composte" machines for the purpose in French railway stations.
I did not have to wait long.  The trip was short.  I can't say it was picturesque as we went through two long tunnels, but at the end of the second one we emerged at Villefranche-sur-Mer.
There's a beautiful small bay with steep rocky cliffs just up from the beach, and the town is built into those cliffs. Very vertical indeed!
I followed the sign posts through the narrow streets.  Some of the side "streets' consisted solely of stairs up or down.  There are arches and passage ways as well.
I went up to the Citadelle or Ft. Saint Elmo and had a stroll around.  The castle was built in the mid Sixteenth Century by the Duke of Savoy to protect the harbor.  The location and views are spectacular.  The castle does hold some small, free museums, but I did not go into any.  I did find the free toilettes, however, which by that time were welcome.
I then strolled through the old town dating from the 1300s and went down to walk along the beach.  Despite the sign posts, I could not find the Tourist Office or the Chapel St. Pierre. Villefranche-sur-Mer is very touristy and none the worse for it.  Although the sites are modest, it's a very pretty and pleasant place to wander around.
I climbed back up to the train station and got on the train bound for Nice and came home.
Dinner is some tortellini filled with ricotta and spinach and dressed with a Provencal tomato sauce with olives.  Pretty dang good!
A demain.

Musee National Marc Chagall

Bon jour, mes amies,

On my way home I fetched up beside Galeries LaFayette, so I went inside to help myself to some expensive perfume, and now I smell pleasantly of cherry pie.
I found a place to recycle my bottles so I did that and got more cash.  I use my bank's French partner, and I like the cute animation on the ATMs.
Then it was time to get on a bus.  I found the stop, the bus, used my pass, and got off safely at the right stop.  I feel like I'm having a winning streak.  We'll see if it continues.
I really liked the Musee National Marc Chagall, and it may be my favorite in Nice.  The building is modern, and I did not care for it even though the artist himself was deeply involved in the design and layout of the museum, but it is set in a Mediterranean garden with olive trees. There's a cafe, which appeared to be popular, and a couple of tiny dogs playing on the lawn.
Note that since this is a national and not city museum, the museum pass will not work. A free audio guide is on offer, and all the visitor needs to do is leave identification.  I enjoyed the guide and would strongly urge anyone to get it as it is excellent and enhances the experience of viewing the works.
Apparently this is the largest public collection of Chagall.  The emphasis is on paintings, but some ceramics and stained glass is also displayed.
The paintings are his biblical works inspired by Genesis, Exodus, Song of Soloman, and the History of the Jewish People.  The color is brilliant, and the large canvases exert a hypnotic power.  Without the audioguide I would have missed some of Chagall's symbolism and the telling detail he would add in corners or backgrounds.
One interesting thing, I did not expect was the inclusion of Jesus in some of the works.  Now I knew that Chagall had no issue with decorating churches, and some of the paintings in the museum were originally intended as altarpieces, but Chagall regarded Jesus as an example of the suffering of the Jewish People over the centuries.  He also often included scenes from his hometown in what is now Belarus.  He and his family were driven out by pogroms, and eventually he and his wife settled in Provence in St Paul de Vence where they are buried.
I try to walk as much as I can, so I decided to come home on foot since it was downhill, and I figured I would not get too badly lost.  My way took me past some beautiful buildings and good window licking opportunities.  I did not get lost at all, and as I said fetched up besides Galeries LaFayette.
I am paying a little more for wine, so I'm in violation of my five euro rule, but I'm not paying much more.  One can, of course, find even fancy, expensive wine even in grocery stores, and for those willing to splash cash, specialty wine stores offer vintages of dizzying quality, which would be completely wasted on me.
But I sure to enjoy my Chateau Cheapaux rose with my Rocamador cheese and pain Polaine.  For desert, I've been having toast with the butter and lavender honey. Divine!
Dinner is gnocchi a la pistou--quick, easy, and great with rose.
A demain