A tale of 2 cities : Nice

Originally planned as a day trip from Antibes, we were forced to book 3 nights in Italy to make the camping reservation, and so decided we would just take the train back into Nice. We do love the train, so this was a no-brainer. Another delicious railway station caffe, but this time, we had the most magnificent views down the coastline of the gorgeous cities of the French Riviera against the brilliant blue waters of the Mediterranean sea. An hour's train ride away, and we arrived in sunny, warm Nice. We opted to take the handy-dandy tram into the old town, saving our feet a little from all the walking we did in Monaco yesterday. And before you know it, we are right on the edge of the Old Town, ready to explore.

 
We have no plans for the day, except taste some of the local specialties, and soak up the sun, and so we just walk. Sometimes it's the best way to discover place - just walk, take a left, or a right, walk some more. Maybe check the map every once in a while to make sure we aren't TOO far away from the train station. So we walk. Towards the beach and the Promenade des Anglais, the wide boardwalk lining the beach made of large, grey galette-shaped stones. We get distracted by the giant antiques market that has set up shop in the Cours Saleya, and with so many stalls to browse, so many curiosities to see, we can't help but leaf through boxes of old postcards, bowls of collectors' spoons, displays of crystal goblets and ceramic egg cups...I spot a gorgeous teal-coloured glass seltzer bottle that, had I not just one suitcase to stuff everything into, I might break down and buy. And every time I see it reappear on another table, and another table, it wears me down even more.

At the far end of the market, we come to the far end of the old town, and the hill which borders it, Colline du Chateau. And we board the elevator - the elevator! - that whisks us up to the top, for magnificent panoramas of Nice and its terracotta rooftops and pebble beach covered with sun bathers. Here, we can walk leisurely around the castle ruins, past the waterfall and snackbars, pausing at each and every viewpoint, but then the noon cannon sounds. Yes, that is a thing in Nice. Our stomachs grumble - also a thing. So we towards one of the many steep and winding staircases that leads down the cliff face and back into the old town. It's much more enjoyable walking down than up!

Getting ourselves lost in the narrow, yet TALL, laneways of old Nice, we come across a little square that houses a couple of rather appealing food options. We are far enough from the beach that this is not the sunbather crowd, and far enough removed from the main that the menu prices are not jacked up, and the ardoise(chalkboard) is telling a tale of Niçoise specialties that we both want to try, so Mario and I sit down for a leisurely lunch.

Everything is delicious and traditional, with just enough of a modern spin to make them new. Of course we order a Niçoise salad, but it adds to the traditional tomatoes, olives, anchovies and eggs, offering up seared tuna, fresh fava beans and a very controversial artichoke heart, but it is delicious, and we mop up every drop of the vinaigrette with slices of fresh baguette. The Pissaladière, comes as a roll of puff pastry, with the classic caramelized onions and anchovies rolled up inside, and the Panisse, deep-fried dumplings made of a chickpea-flour batter, are deliciously creamy inside, and perfect when dipped in the accompanying spicy tomato sauce. Of course, we had chilled Rosé, because that's what you drink here, and it's been our wine of choice since we stepped off the plane in Marseille.

 We skip dessert, because there are so many great options for ice cream in this town, and we are bound to cross a few on our way back to the beach. Sure enough, Finocchia draws us in with the promise of a local mandarine sorbet paired with a creamy pistachio ice cream. And I get the cone, because I am now learning that it's the same price as when you get the paper cup, but then you can EAT THE CONE. Plus, we're in France here, you get a spoon with your ice cream no matter the vessel you choose. You don't LICK an ice cream cone - that is for barbarians.

We exit the tunnel-like laneways of the old town on the Promenade des Anglais again, and this time take to the beach for a stroll. Easier said than done. Walk on sand might be hard, but walking on galettes is harder. I don't know how all of these sunbathers are finding this beach comfortable! And the drop into the azur blue waters, however inviting, is treacherous at best. We don't have towels OR swimsuits with us. The ice cream is melting. And so we skip the beach this time around. I didn't come to Nice to sunbathe, I came to SEE Nice. And honestly? I am sunbathing enough just walking around, it's so hot and sunny.

We don't visit much more - our "goals" were met in seeing the beautiful old city and eating good food, so we hop the ever-so-convenient tram back to the train station, and head back to Ventimiglia. It's nice to have an early evening with nowhere to be and nothing to do. We pick up some fresh homemade pasta from a small shop near the train station, borage ravioli, and enjoy a delicious meal in the warmth of the evening while listening to the distant tweets of a whistle on a soccer pitch. I think this is a place I could easily return to.