Monday in Nice: Working the System

Our first stop, after the train station of course, was a cute little café where we met a friendly Frenchman who wanted to practice his English as we were trying to practice our French. It was pretty entertaining because we would speak poorly in French, and he would politely correct us as needed, and it even went so far as him asking us for advice on how to cook a fried egg for an ornery British gentleman (apparently that's not common French cuisine).

Afterward, we headed way uptown (the 15-minute bus ride had us thanking our lucky stars we decided not to walk) to the Museé Matisse (pictured below). A painter with a wonderful knack for riveting color, I didn't realize that he was also an accomplished sculptor.



Another interesting note about this picture: this building is not some unique artistic work of any particular design. In fact, there are literally dozens of buildings in Vieux-Nice that look nearly identical. I just found it interesting that odd pastel colors are common in beach communities across the world. . .

Unfortunately, we were unable to take pictures inside the museum, so we did our best to create our own art on the way out. I just thought this looked cool, and we wanted to capture the scale of this massive white wall next to me.



Following the museum, we stopped for a beer in the park, and then headed back down to our own little square, Place Rosetti (pictured following this explanation). We drank a nice bottle of wine here Saturday, had some gelato there Sunday, and then, on Monday, stopped for some exotic delicacies of Nicean cuisine (at the restaurant with the red awning in the left of the picture). Lindsey tried some of the ravioli (which, as I mentioned yesterday, was invented in Nice), while I tried some squid. Though I am a fan of the ol' fried calamari so widely loved here in the States, I was a little unsure of my decision, but it came ground up and arranged in hollowed out vegetables (onions, tomatoes, eggplant and zucchini). Needless to say — at least from my point of view — it was quite tasty, and probably the best food I had the entire time we were there (which is saying a whole lot).



After we had a brief scare that Lindsey wasn't going to get here 11 Euro change back from the 50 she gave the waiter for lunch, (note to everyone: give French people as close to exact change as possible; they really don't like to give money back) we trekked up Castle Hill, about which I told you all yesterday. From the top, there are sweeping views of the entire city, one of which is reproduced here:



Also on top of Castle Hill are three cemeteries, a Protestant, a Catholic and a Jewish, all of which contain some of the most elaborate gravesites I've ever seen. Otherwise, the ruins of the former castle grace the grounds, which, like many of the other parks we stumbled across, were phenomenally well kept; the grass was as green as the water was blue. Maybe that's why Matisse's colors were so sharp; his surrounding environment offered a reality of similar beauty.

As we were still new to the bus system, we made it about halfway up the mountain before we realized we should probably just walk back to the villa. Unfortunately, even though we had walked up twice and down twice already, it was still much longer than we remembered. Luckily, that was the last time we'd make that trip (up, at least).

So we settled in for another evening at home, cooked some dinner and looked out over a gorgeous sunset, feeling more comfortable in the place where we'd spend the next few days. Hmmm. . . the more I talk about it the more I miss it now. Until tomorrow.