the south of france and beyond, part II

The Coast

Our first morning back in Nice, we didn't do much. After walking our little feet off in Turin and getting lost and unlost in-between, we figured we needed to recuperate. So we spent it on the terrasse on top of the house. Here's Joey, making up to his laptop for having left it alone for so much longer than usual.



And here is the lovely view out to the Port Infernet.


That afternoon, once again feeling the need to take advantage of our time in new and beautiful surroundings, we headed down Mt. Boron (the hill/neighborhood where we stayed) to the seaside. On that part of the coast there aren't long beaches so much as long areas of low cliffs, but nonetheless there is a path that winds along and little bathing areas from time to time. We walked for quite some distance, until we came close to the 'plage nudiste' (nude beach). At least we think we were close. There was a sign with an arrow scrawled onto a bench with marker, and we laughed and kept on our way. At the second sign though, we decided things were getting kind of serious, so we took a funny picture and returned hastily whence we had come.



The walk, however, was beautiful.



The next day we ventured further afield, to the beautiful and glitzy area east of Nice. There are a number of towns along bays there, made popular and frequented by the billionaires and movie stars we read about and see on tv. The plebeians are allowed a walking path along the coast, and so, plebeians that we are, we walked along that path from town to town all day. We started at the appropriately named Beaulieu-sur-Mer (which loosely translates to 'little bit of gorgeous on the sea'), and made our way down one side of one bay to St. Jean-Cap Ferrat, where we had lunch at a restaurant called 'Le Pirate' next to the most obnoxious English tourists in the whole wide world ever. If you want to know that story, ask. Then we walked over the hill to the bay on the other side, walked along that one until our feet hurt, caught the bus and went back home. Here are highlights.

Salade Niçoise (of course), part of our lunch at Le Pirate

Your regular Mediterranean villa, with private yacht slip

The view from above the town of Passable. Great name.

Us in silhouette, villa with mooring space in background

That night, Christiane and Georges invited us to eat with them and Noëlle, Georges' sister, at dinner. We were all too pleased to oblige, because they were wonderfully warm hosts, and because we had bought a whole bottle of wine and felt it wise not to shoulder the entire burden ourselves. We needn't have worried. We spent a splendid evening with them, discussing all the world's problems over four hours and delicious French vintages. It was definitely one of the highlights of our stay.

Now I have to take a moment to talk about Mezzomonte, which is the name of Christiane and Georges' home. The house itself is one of the old buildings typical of the area, which they have renovated perfectly. They let out the guest room as a bed-and-breakfast, and I don't think I've stayed in a room finished with such care and attention to detail in my life. The location is a bit far from the centre of Nice, but we were okay with that, because it's quiet, has fantastic views and is close to the bus lines that went to the places we wanted to see. They have 3 cats, including independently-minded Mephisto who is such a special guy he isn't allowed outdoors unless he's on a leash. He's usually the one in front. Christiane and Georges were warm, accommodating (Georges picked us up from the city in the evenings when we went out!) and served a killer breakfast. I will never look at the 'continental' breakfast at Days Inn in the same way ever again.

Breakfast was delightfully presented in the dining room, which had views of the Port

It usually involved fresh croissants and brioches, fruit, yogurt, cheeses and homemade jam and marmalade. Yuuuuuummmmyyyyy.

Here's Joey, trying his hand at walking the headstrong kitty. Georges is getting photographic evidence of the fact that the cat leads people other than himself.

The view out our window

This post is already quite long. But I'm going to squeeze in one more story before I head on to Part III. That is Eze. (Say 'ezz').

In our very full guidebook, Joey found the write-up on Eze, which is a medieval village (well, back in the day they might have called it a city) built on an unlikely rock outcrop just above the coast in the hope of discouraging invaders. Sadly, even that didn't manage to keep out all the invaders, and it was captured by the Moors, recaptured by (who we would now call) the French, captured by the Italian Savoys, recaptured by the French, and so on. Nowadays it's been recreated as an artists' colony, which means the stone streets are clean and adorned with plants, flowers, artists' studios and reaaaaalllllyyyy sheeshy hotels. Georges, bless his heart, drove us there, and from the minute we stepped out of the car we were in love. There isn't much to say about the place other than it's gorgeous. That sounds anti-climactic, but I'm going to have to let the photos speak for themselves in the hopes that the full weight of that 'it's gorgeous' can be conveyed over the internets.


Eze, as seen from the hill a little further inland. The bridge that leads to it across the adjacent ravine is on the bottom right.

The old buildings and the (relatively) new plants

A religious frieze in the one of the walls, with jasmine to adorn it


One of the artist studios

Joey, in front of an entrance to one of the hotels

Me in a little medieval street

Joey, climbing the stairs to the Jardin d'Eze (the Garden of Eze), a garden built on the site of the former castle, which was destroyed in an invasion.

The garden, the village, and the sea beyond



Here we are, loving the village, the sunshine, and everything else