Wouldn't It Be Nice

There's nothing quite like it in the US. I love the French custom of row after row of restaurants with outdoor seating, squeezed into old, narrow streets. It's just ideal for people watching and photo sniping, like here in the Old City of Nice.

Let's Review, Then

Back home, back at work, body clock still not reset. A good night's sleep should do it.

I won't be able to shoot new STL material until the weekend at best. Until then, back through some images of two wonderful weeks in France. These photos are from the Old City of Nice.

The Mirror Of Nice

It's late Saturday afternoon as I write this from our hotel room in Aix-en-Provence. The subject is officially called the Mirror of Water. It's in a park strip by the west end of the Old City in Nice. There is perhaps an inch of water on a large stone platform. From time to time water jets bounce up in interesting patterns. The water outlets may also blow up billows of cloud, like here at sunset. Children love it. It makes for special photos at this time of day.

Tourist tip: don't try to drive in the city proper of Nice back from the sea. Pay through the nose and stay near the Mediterranean where most of the attractions are. Otherwise, take a taxi. I have driven in many old, cramped cities in Europe but never one as confusing and difficult as Nice. Even with a portable navigation system, we constantly made wrong turns. We are glad to be in someplace smaller.

In The Market

Quick post from the outdoor market in the old city of Nice. Just about everything seemed to be local. The old city is a warren of narrow, twisting streets.

We're on our way over to the tiny village of Gorbio this morning to meet our colleague, Jilly, for lunch at the incomparable Restaurant Beausejour. Jilly is the de facto town photographer.          

Sur la Côte d'Azur

It's been a full if jet-lagged day of walking around the old city in Nice, eating French food (there must be a McDonald's here but I haven't seen it) and trying hard to communicate with the locals. With the additional practice, I think that French has edged out Spanish as my best language that I'm bad at.

Note that the beach here is made of small, smooth rocks, not sand. Everyone brings a roll-up wood slat mat rather than just a towel.

As you can see at the bottom, Mrs. C and I are thinking of you, gentle reader, the whole time we're here.
                                    

It's Nice

Yep, Nice, France, the end of our trail. You know, famous for salade niçoise, being on the Cote d'Azur and brilliant summer sun, which is nowhere to be found today (as illustrated below).

Tiring trip from St. Louis to Chicago to Paris to Nice. All flights were late, although we didn't miss any connections. Terminal 2 at Charles de Gaulle Airport is a terrible place to get around and stunningly ugly from the outside. (Part of the cavernous Terminal 2F, where we left for Nice, is below. A very nice information lady in 2A, where we came in, said it was five minutes walk away. Try 25, sweetie.) Got hopelessly lost trying to find our hotel from the Nice airport despite having two GPS systems, a Garmin and my iPhone with Google Maps. No energy to go to the city center for dinner tonight so we went to the supermarket around the corner and got sandwiches, fruit and wine.

I spoke to several actual French people today in their native language and some of them understood me. I'm thrilled. Bed in a moment. Tourism tomorrow.