Last night, I went to a restaurant just down the street from my ghetto ass hotel, based on a recommendation from Trip Advisor – Restaurant Nicose Voyageur Nissart (it’s kind of a long time for such a tiny little place, don’t you think?)
It was fantastic! I had a sea bass bouillabaisse, lots of delicious bread, a decadent chocolate pear tart for dessert (I may have to go back tomorrow and have this one again, tres bon!), and I ordered a 50-cl carafe of red wine to wash it down with. Obviously, I need to brush up on my metric conversions – thanks goes to Malia for informing me that 50-cl equates to 17-ounces! Of course, as soon as the waiter set the carafe on the table, I started laughing – there was no WAY my skinny rail ass was going to finish that and still be able to walk back to my hotel (or even remember where my hotel was, regardless of the fact that it was only about 50-meters away). There was an adorable couple sitting at the table next to me, she was French and he was German and they were trying to communicate in half-English, half-Charades. It was adorable, so, like a kid in a candy store, I thought it would be fun to add in another layer of difficulty to their evening by lending them the rest of the wine I was unable to drink. (Aren’t I just so nice?!)
I want to take an opportunity here to give the French another shout out – hard to believe I know, but I am happy to report that they have no issue with telling you exactly what they think (hmmm….maybe I am French after all?! Mon Dieu!) Case in point: the waiter asked a different couple how their food was, to which the man went into a tirade about why it sucked, how they could have made the meal better and then he threw his arms up in disgust and pushed the plate away from him. The best part is that the waiter retorted the food didn’t suck, instead the man was just being a pain in the arse, to which the man got his panties all in a wad, and their argument went on for another 10 minutes or so. Suffice to say, I was giggling the whole time as I played out a vision of a Frenchman taking some contrite teacher’s yoga class and how his honesty would just turn them into a puddle (I did feel the tiniest moment of guilt, then I snapped out of it and went back to the hotel to sleep) – or maybe I was just giggling from the rouge vins…..nez pas?
Today, I plan to hike all over frickin’ Nice, so I fueled up on a hearty breakfast of café creme, a cheesy omelet (tres bien), and a huge baguette smeared with butter and jam. With a full belly, I headed towards the beach, since many of the monuments I wanted to tour (and get pictures of) are conveniently lined up along the Promenade des Anglais (big boardwalk that connects the beaches of Nice). Oh and time out for a second…… I think my new jail is located in Islamabad, not Nice, at least that is how it appears as I was walking through the street near my hotel. Normally, I would not be bothered – since I don’t distinguish whether I like people by their race, creed, color, religion, or what have you, but by whether or not they are an a-hole. However, today I was bothered because I was apparently the a-hole for having a GIANT dragon tattoo on my leg! Can you imagine how these poor Muslim men are reacting to some white girl walking in their ‘hood with a tank top and shorts on and this tattoo?! One man make some rude remark about it, but I don’t know what it was, but since he was shaking his head as he looked down at my leg, I can only guess what it was and it can’t be good.
Anyway, I hoofed it as quickly as I could out of Islamabad and back to Nice. Once at the beach, I headed East towards the oldest part of the city, La Colline du Chateau where the remnants of a castle and much of the port and old city walls remain. They have turned the area into a gorgeous park, complete with magnificent waterfalls. The bonus is that if you can climb the 90+meters to the top, you get to see some beautiful panoramic views of the entire city and the port (complete with big ass boats….er…yachts that house bonsai trees in their galley and all!).
As I was taking time to catch my breath and glance around the joint, I noticed a cemetery, set what seemed, due north of the Chateau and proceeded to stalk through the whole damned thing the remainder of the afternoon. By the way, when you aren’t sure where to go in a wilderness type setting, be sure to follow the lumberjack, they will lead you the correct direction every time.
Not wanting to get completely derailed from my original scavenger hunting plans, I did manage to fit in seeing all of the sights I had intended to, then set my focus on finding the cemetery. It took me a good hour or so to wind my way around the streets, alleyways and steps up and down, before I finally navigated my way to it with the help of a halfassed map I got from the tourist office upon arrival – hooray! Now it may seem creepy to you, but frankly, Scarlet, I don’t give a damn – the cemetery was beautiful, peaceful, quiet, and the perfect spot for an afternoon nap to rest up from hiking yet another Fourteener that morning (I mean really, who is going to disturb you in a cemetery? No one! They’re all dead, that’s who!)
I woke up pleasantly refreshed as the sun was just starting to go down, so I made my way back towards my hotel to grab dinner at Crazy Wok (Yes, I came to France and I am eating Chinese Food – and that shit was good, yo! Chicken stir-fried with ginger makes me holla!) On my way back, I noticed this homeless man spreading his crap out on the street everywhere. Now there is something you don’t see every day –a homeless yard sale. I wondered what kind of crap he wanted to get rid of, but was afraid to investigate to closely, I didn’t want to get fleas.