Musings from Nice

It is very difficult -- relaxing. Society programs us to be always striving towards a goal, to always be on the go. And then you hit Nice and everything stops, proverbially dead in the water - and what a lovely body of water, the 'Baie des anges' or Bay of Angels, is. As you float along, checking out the tiny fish at the bottom of the sea, all of your stress seems to dissipate.

The cold rainy weather of Toronto seems to be very, very distant and of absolutely no importance.

We've been here almost a week now, and It's becomingly increasing more difficult to sit in front of the iPad and write down our escapades. It's not because we haven't had any, it just because we've been trying to enjoy them. Every day we have felt the need to have a plan, even though we are on vacation. So one day, we decided to do laundry, the next was finding the various bus station scattered throughout the city centre (not as easy as you would think) and the following day was culture day (visiting museums, etc.) as well as visiting the daily fruit market (Mom's personal favourite). Regardless of what was planned, unspoken was that we had to have our daily sea soak- returning to the womb, as you could call the sea. Bobbing in the sea like contented sea cows, admiring your feet is a fabulous way to spend your morning.

Laundry poses it's own difficulties. While our apartment has a washing machine, it creates a problem of how to dry the clothes without a dryer. At times, our apartment is strewn with assorted articles of clothing, ranging from tee shirts and pants right down to granny panties and bras. The temptation to hang the clothes on the balcony has been hard to resist but so far there are no intimate lingerie decorations. Towels are also problematic. Did you know that towels dry hard and scratchy as sandpaper. Rather rough on your tender parts, such as cheeks (I'll let you decide which cheeks).

The next day we visited the Matisse Museum, after figuring out the maze of bus lines. Bears a striking resemblance to spaghetti with nary a straight line to be found. Rocketing up the foothills of the baby Alps (les alpilles maritimes) we got off at a lovely villa surrounded by a grove of olive trees. A beautiful sight. Check out the photos. The exhibit of Matisse works was underwhelming but our lunch in the olive groves was lovely.

Entertainment was provided by a group of retired gentlemen who were playing a game called petanque (or bocci ball??). As we watched, we speculated that the game was really an excuse to get the men out from under their wives' feet. There were no women in the park, except for tourists but these men were enjoying their time outside. Petanque bears a striking resemblance to curling, Ann. You have two teams. The opposing team throws a tiny yellow ball down the playing area. If the ball doesn't go far enough, the thrower walks over and kicks it into the proper position. The objective of the game is to try to place your metal balls as close to the little yellow ball as possible. You are allowed to smash your opponent's balls out of scoring position. Please, no pee-pee jokes. However, Ann, as far as we could tell, there was no cussing or drinking involved, unlike some of the bonspiels about which you have told us. In fact, quite often, when this specific man missed his shot (which was quite often), the others were all very encouraging. Maybe it was because he held a heavy metal ball in his hand that he used to smash other balls, I can't say. You can decide.

Wandering down the boardwalk (Promenade des Anglais) also provides hours of entertainment. In the evenings, after dinner, we often wander there, watching most often the honeymoonin' couples, or as Mom says "love like dove". However, in the daytime, you see all kinds of sights. Shortly, after we arrived, we were walking down the boardwalk when the following unrolled before us. There is a company that rents Segways ???? Not sure of the spelling but they are the two-wheeled vehicles. Typically, they hire pretty young men and women to zoom around, demonstrating how easy it is to manoeuvre these machines. This time, a young woman was trying to convince this middle-aged man to rent the Segway. After a brief explanation, she let the man try it out. the first thing he did was run over his wife's foot and then proceeded to tip the machine over almost on top of the young woman. His wife was not amused, and in no uncertain terms, by hopping on her uninjured foot and slapping her husband on the arm. The end result was the young woman taking off on her Segway into the evening sun while the dutiful husband was listening attentively to his wife, probably wondering how much it was going to cost him.

I leave you with one final picture that Mom took. She's up to her old tricks again.