Nice - Relaxation to an Art Form

There's something about the sunshine, crystal blue sea and sky that lifts your spirits and makes your cares go away - just like a shot of Demerol. The problems are there, in the distance, but you don't give a damn.

After all, is this not the image of a perfect apartment?

What else do you need?



With our apartment so supplied, we were ready to embrace the Nice lifestyle. Off we went to the Monoprix to get the more mundane supplies, such as milk, butter, bananas. As usual, we bought more than what we'd gone for; however, this time we took Mom's wheelie bag for the heavier items. We can learn from our earlier mistakes.
We decided to buy a roasted chicken (a la Swiss Chalet) and a salad for our first "at home" meal. We were just about to check out when I went to get the chicken. As I turned back, there was Mom, with the same look as a kid who's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Clasped to her heaving buxom was a bar of nougat. One glance at the stubborn look on her face and I gave in. What was one more bar of nougat when we already had four other bars of chocolate. I don't think that Mom believed my easy capitulation, because she wouldn't let go of the nougat bar. The poor cashier almost had to pry the bar from her clenched hands just to scan it. The nougat bar was then quickly retrieved and stuffed into Mom's purse, without a word.
I must add that Mom did share a piece of her nougat bar with me. Nanny taught her well.

The next day, we went out on a quest. A quest that proved almost impossible - to find Mom some worms. A word of explanation is needed, I suppose. Mom refers to the pool noodles (long styrofoam floaty thingies) as worms. She wanted one so she could float in the sea for her sea soak (and expend minimum energy). Anyways, we had checked out all the touristy stores along the newer part of Nice and not found them, although I'd found a pair of water shoes, a beach coverup and 2 towels.

To cheer Mom up, I took her to the market in the Old Nice, where she could touch the fruit. Apparently, the French are not as possessive about their peaches as the Italians are. We were wandering back when all of a sudden, my arm was almost wrenched out of my shoulder as Mom did a 180 degree turn and loudly exclaimed, "Worms!"
Nearby people jerked their heads around and then down before realizing that Mom meant the styrofoam version, not the squishy slimy ones. With a big grin, she handed two pink worms to me and proceeded to pat herself on the back (figuratively, not literally). Only four bystanders were in danger of being decapitated by a pink piece of styrofoam. Quick reflexes were all that stood between them and razor burn. As another piece of useless trivia, I have discovered that the French call them "frites" (fries). Leave it to the French to make a food reference to a piece of styrofoam.

We trotted off home with only a few near misses. I tried to keep to the open areas. Once home, we decided to have our sea soak. We were ready.

Off we trotted to the beach, worms in tow. Upon arrival, we settled in the only "sandy" beach in Nice. Some of you may not be aware, but Nice's beaches are not particularly nice. They are made of big stones, very uncomfortable stones to lie on. No sand here. Just smaller, screening-sized stones.

The large stones also make it very, very difficult to get into and out of the sea. Especially, when the sea is a bit rough and there are waves. Which happens every afternoon. We quickly discovered that with the incoming tide, there was also a good undertow. As Mom and I struggled to maintain our balance in the churning water, it quickly became evident that someone was going to get hurt, either by tumbling into the water as the tide sucked the feet from under you, or when you attempted to get out, the waves would spit you back on to the rocks like the rejected olive pits so liked by Nicoise cuisine. With visions of beached and bloodied whales, Mom and I reconsidered our options and decided to retreat.

Our first sea soak had only reached our thighs.

Disappointed but resolute, we gathered up our pink worms and assorted paraphernalia and returned home.
A Kir drunk under a canopy helped reduce our disappointment.

The next morning, bright and early, we returned to the beach and successfully launched the worms. Our sea soak in the azure blue sea was everything we had been dreaming about.