Nice

Pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2168981&l=e8d94&id=15616369

As advertised, a couple of weeks ago we traveled to the French Riviera, the area along the Mediterranean coast of French, just west of the border with Italy. We were armed with a map, from the Orleans tourist information center, showing camping sites in France. Our plan was to drive as far as we could on Friday, then use the map and GPS to find a campsite. From Orleans to Nice is nearly a 9 hour drive, so we were planning to leave in good time on Friday, but didn’t get started until after 5:30 pm.

Although the roads in France are nice, the toll roads are a bit pricey. One way our total tolls approached 50 Euros. So for the round trip we paid about $150 in tolls. Good thing we were camping and not staying in a posh hotel.

By about 10:30 we had driven as far as we could stand and began looking for a campsite. Using the addresses listed on the map, the GPS got us close, and then we followed signs to the camps. We found a small one that we drove into, not seeing anyone to pay, and found an open grassy area to setup the tent. There were several car campers nearby as we setup the tent in the dark. In the morning we were able to see the neighbors. The campers were relics, with mostly older couples camping in style: tables with tablecloths and flower centerpieces, clothes drying on the line, and stoves cooking breakfast. We looked very rookie as we gobbled our bread and fruit as we hurried to pack and get on the road. As we loaded up, a woman walked up. She was the “owner” of the site and asked for payment, in acceptable English, and pointed out the showers and shop we had passed on the way in. For one night: 11.40 Euro.

There was still a long drive to reach Nice. Once we were close we began looking for another campsite and found a more professional version than our previous night’s stay. I’m still not exactly sure which town we were in, it was one of the small ones on the coast south of Nice, about a 40 minute bike ride from Nice as we were to find later. This was a gated site, with well marked sites for tents and campers, showers, and ping pong tables. For one night: 25 Euro. After setting up the tent and leaving the car, we headed for the beach. Similar to Italy, the beach is small stones, which my bare feet protest loudly when subjected to. We can confirm that the beaches were full of Europeans with a more liberal opinion of what minimal beach attire is. It was strange to see liberated mothers cavorting with their children on the beach. Not to say that this was the standard, I would guess that only 1/3 diverted from what Americans consider “normal” attire.

In the evening we drove to Nice, a few minutes away. Parking in a garage, we walked to downtown. There were hundreds of people on the street. During the course of the evening we passed a group of young break dancers surrounded by a crowd (there was an overweight college tourist goofing by pretending to break dance in the circle to the amusement of all, while the pros responded with real moves, including a headstand spin), an amateur magician practicing rope knot tricks for a small audience, a spray paint artist creating nature scenes as we watched, a tall, thin, tackily dressed Michael Jackson impersonator who was dancing to his songs blaring on a small boom box, and a talented pianist in the center of a square banging out classical to a large audience in a manner that even a non-musician like myself could appreciate (the stand-up piano had wheels on the back that would have been used to move it).

Following our usual drill, we consulted Rick Steves for a nearby restaurant, but unfortunately since this was still the holiday season, the first 3 we tried were closed (the owners had shut down for several weeks while they vacationed). We ended up at another one his suggestions, an extremely popular outdoor place where we ordered food from a window and ate at picnic tables on the square: pizza and the ever present “frites” at a reasonable price. Not so romantic, but surrounded by local flavor at the crowded tables. For dessert we looked for a gelato stand. Entering a large square it was easy to see why Steves recommended the gelato place we were looking for. The locals swarmed around it, while on the opposite side of the square, a smaller competitor had almost no customers. Walking by with our fruity cones I noticed that his prices were about 50 cents cheaper; insufficient, apparently, to coax the locals into buying an inferior product.

The next day we decided to ride our bikes back to Nice to explore in daylight (and eat lunch at a Thai restaurant Shereen had spotted the day before). After some uncertainty we were able to navigate the bike path along the beach to the boardwalk in Nice. At the north end of town we climbed the cliff to what was once a castle overlooking the bay. The castle is gone, but there is a large park, with great view of Nice to the south and Monaco to the north. Yes, there were multiple HUGE yachts in the port of Monaco. We stopped for Thai for lunch and I can report that the Pad Thai was very inferior to the Michigan version (no kick, bland flavor). With the long drive ahead of us, we left early in the afternoon.