Nicole schreibt...

Nice 2018

Many years ago I went to the Côte d'Azur with a guy for the film festival in Cannes and fell in love. With the Côte d'Azur, that is, not the guy. So I was pretty stunned when my mother returned from a trip there (with two other old ladies) declaring it a horrible place full of horrible rude people and she'd never set foot into France again. So for the last years I've made it my mission to drag her around the country from the Loire Valley via Brittany to Provence to show her that the French are lovely people in general and friendly to foreigners - provided -you- are nice to them and make at least a little effort to speak French. Now last year one of my favorite musicals, the wonderfully upbeat "Priscilla - Queen of the Desert", made its way to France and since I didn't manage to catch it in Paris, decided to try for the tour, which also happened to stop in Nice. So I could kill two birds with one stone, I thought: See the show and prove to my mother that the Côte d'Azur is a wonderful place full of wonderful people. Not at all of that came to pass, alas, because the French tour of Priscilla was canceled. Since we had already paid the flights and booked a hotel, we decided to go ahead anyway... but sadly the show cancelation was a harbinger of things to come.

Things started well enough with a punctual flight and Nice greeted us with lovely weather. After dumping our stuff at the hotel, we went to the Promenade des Anglais first, the lovely endless boardwalk along the Bay of Angels and stopped for a late lunch at one of the restaurants directly on the beach. From here it was onwards to Nice's port and into the old town that still feels more Italian than French. Tidbit of history: France and Italy fought over Nice and the surrounding area for centuries until they did some wheeler-dealing in 1859 when France agreed to Italy's unification on condition they got Nice and Savoy as a thank you gift. At the same time the Brits discovered the French Riviera's mild climate for themselves and came flocking in droves, which started tourism and gave the boardwalk its name. The old town is pretty touristy these days but lovely for a stroll:

Above is the Port Lympic (no, it doesn't have an O missing) and the famous flower market on the Cours Saleya, still delightfully local and free of tourist tat. By the afternoon the flower stalls pack it in and the surrounding restaurants put their tables out, so we actually ended up eating there every evening. Below is the Cathédrale Sainte Réparate:

From here it was back to the new town via Place Masséna and Nice's main shopping drag, the Avenue Jean Medecin to the hotel, which was tucked away in a side street. It came with a spa so we could chill out there before heading out once more for dinner. France was in the middle of a huge strike against Emmanuel Macron's reforms, so Saturday was the only day the trains were actually running (before the SNCF would strike again Sunday and Monday). My mother had wanted to see Monaco, which I had already seen and felt no urge to see again, so she went on her own by local train on Saturday. I did a longer walk along the Promenade des Anglais and had planned to actually sit down on the beach for a while to read and enjoy the sun, but sadly the weather was already turning with thick clouds moving in and a stiff wind that blew sand into my clothes and hair, so I retreated to the hotel instead. I was also dealing with a period-induced headache that had all the makings of a migraine and ended up just taking a nap and a bath before watching football on the iPad (by which time the mother had returned, too).

On Sunday we took off on the first of the two planned excursions/hikes, this one to impossibly picturesque Èze, a tiny village perched high atop the mountains. Luckily the local buses were not on strike and took us there within 20 minutes. It's pretty touristy (naturally), but still lovely for a wander around the tiny old alleys to the botanical gardens at the very top amid the ruins of a medieval fortress. While the skies remained dry at least, an incredibly strong wind was blowing up here that hurt almost physically and even blew glasses off faces (nevermind hats). At least we could enjoy the view because the day after thick clouds were hanging so slow that the view must have been zero. Anyway, here are some pictures of lovely Èze:

Once upon a time (well, 1883) Friedrich Nietzsche hung around Èze and pottered up and down the mountain almost daily to think big philosophical thoughts which made their way into his most famous work Thus Spoke Zarathustra. His route is now the Sentier Friedrich Nietzsche, though admittedly my only thoughts on the way downhill were along the lines of "It's windy as all f--" and "Mustn't slip, mustn't sliiii-- eek!". With better weather and without a headache (that got steadily worse as the way down needed so much concentration) I'm sure I had enjoyed it more, but as it was, I was glad to be done. We were even lucky when a direct bus to Nice turned up not much later, so I could crawl into my hotel bed for the rest of the afternoon.

The second excursion/hike was to take us to Cap Ferrat and the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild with its famous gardens the next day. Rain was already heavy in the air but luckily it remained dry while we still wandered around the gardens (and it promptly began to rain after leaving the villa).

The story of Béatrice de Rothschild is a classic "poor rich girl" story: A scion of the massively rich Rothschild clan she married the (slightly less rich) Maurice Ephrussi in 1883 but it was not a happy marriage and both were suffering from rising antisemitism in Europe. Béatrice eventually discovered beautiful Cap Ferrat, blagged a piece of land off Belgian King Leopold who lived next door and began to create her own little paradise with gorgeous gardens, that are now open to the public. I'm sure they look even better in sunlight, but even so, they were truly splendid as was the tastefully decorated villa.

Above are the Spanish Garden, the Stone Garden with its feeling of a sunken medieval place, the Japanese Garden in Zen style and the Exotic Garden. Below is the Rose Garden, sadly not in bloom yet and finally the beautifully styled French Garden:

Inside the villa charmed me with its light airy style and the fabulous view from virtually every room across Cap Ferrat towards the sea or into the gardens. Frankly, if I had 700 million Euro lying around, I'd probably build myself something similar.

By the time we left the villa it was raining properly, so there was no point in trying the (fairly long) hike around Cap Ferrat. Instead we walked to Saint-Jean to have a coffee and catch the bus back to Nice. And as if the trip hadn't been bad enough with the canceled show, the rain and the headaches, to top it all off, German union Verdi out of the blue announced they'd go on strike on a few German airports the next day - including ours, so there was no telling if we could even go home.
We spent the remaining afternoon with a bit of shopping in Nice, but my mood was now properly in the can. Luckily it did all work out in the end, because even though many flights were indeed canceled, ours went ahead with only 90 mins delay.
So, all in all, this was sadly not the wonderful return to the Côte d'Azur I had always envisioned, but at least the excursions to Èze and the Villa Rothschild had made it worthwhile - and of course the mother admitting that Nice was a lovely charming town and people indeed a really friendly bunch!