the south of france and beyond, part III

Inland

The final installment: On our last full day in France, we went inland for an unintentionally adventurous trip to Biot (Bee-ott). But first, let me tell you about the night before, when we had dinner at a serious French restaurant. Our hosts had recommended to us a little place called Bistro Antoine, which is in the Old Town of Nice. They described it as typical Provence fare (Nice is in the Provence-Alpes Maritimes part of France), with fresh ingredients and excellent preparation. We were very excited to be there, especially since we'd gone the budget route on most of our meals on the trip. The place certainly didn't disappoint. Unlike the one other restaurant we'd had dinner at a few nights before, which was crowded with tourists like us who don't know one French dish from another, this one had a mostly native crowd. The waiters were the picture of patience and indulgence, which was good because our pocket phrasebook's food section didn't cover half of the foods they listed on their menu. We definitely tried to order something as a starter that was meant to be a dessert. But they were nice and explained the difference to us. And we ended up with:

Fresh calamari and sausages on a bed of greens (starter #1)

Smoked salmon tartare (starter #2)

Unknown cut of lamb with vegetables and potatoes (main dish #1)

Unknown cut of duck with potatoes (main dish #2)

And finally mango tartare (indescribably delicious, sublime even) and fresh figs baked with sweet cheeses (unconventional and fantastic, both unpictured) for dessert. So that you fully appreciate these photos, I have to disclose that the French folks enjoying their dinner at tables near us were more than a little nonplussed/amused that we were taking pictures of our food. Nevertheless, it was everything you think your first real meal at a French restaurant should be, and then some.

And now, Biot. At this point in the voyage, we felt quite comfortable navigating the various arms of the french public transit system. The italian one was a mess, but France, we thought, we had figured. So when we settled on Biot as our last day trip because of its historic glassworks, it never ocurred to us to second guess our chosen means of transport. You see where this is going. 'Oh!' our hosts said, 'I didn't know the train went to Biot.' But, since they rarely took the train and didn't confess to be experts on it in any way, and because our little train schedule clearly listed the stop 'Biot', we merrily hopped on this shining example of the success of European rail (picture below, with logo proclaiming its sponsorship by HRH the Prince of Monaco, I think because he'd had enough of the less shining examples of European rail that roll through his country on a daily basis - see the upcoming post on Turin), and were on our way.



After arriving at the Biot station, taking a couple pictures of the beach beyond and getting our bearings, we figured out why Christiane and Georges hadn't heard of the Biot train stop. The station is on the coast, about 3km from the village itself, which is inland. Critical error. So we started walking. And we walked and we walked and we walked. And eventually we figured out that there was a bus we could take. And eventually, after stopping at a patisserie to replenish ourselves and get change for the bus, missing one bus because we failed to flag down the driver, and more walking than is really necessary for any one holiday, we arrived in Biot. Here is a picture of one of the squares in town, which kind of reminded me of the square in front of Café René in 'Allo 'Allo.


And here is a picture of the beach, which is kind of far from the square.


Having arrived in Biot, though, we did get to see lots of fantastic things. The famous glassworks is called 'La Verrerie de Biot', and it's about 20 minutes walk outside of the village, of course. We were scandalised by the sandals and shorts that seemed to be the clothing of choice around the furnace. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. This gentleman reminded us of some of the seasoned lifelong surfers you see around the beaches of southern california.

Our favorite glassworks though, was a much smaller family-run place we found along the way, not least because the guy working the molten glass in the picture is the spitting image of our friend Aaron. Seriously, it was uncanny.

And finally, some of Biot's finest:

Biot, as another medieval-era village, is on a hill, which we enjoyed climbing...


The old part of the village was also beautiful. Where Eze had prolific greenery and lots of maintenance to keep it looking stunning, Biot is still lived in by regular people. It was great to see how the village is still being used, and to think of how things have changed there over the centuries. We liked this particular image of how transportation is updated for people who live on really, really narrow streets.

After seeing lots of glassblowing, looking at wares from Provence (soaps, textiles, pottery, and lots of glass), and walking over lots of cobbled stone, we took the bus back down to the train station. Naturally, the bus was late, so we ran onto the platform just as the train we were hoping to catch pulled out. So, determined to make lemonade out of our big transportation lemon, we crossed the street to the beach to watch the sunset in the forty-five minute wait until the next train. Here's Joey, really excited about the stone-skipping possibilities presented by a pebble beach.


And here we are, tired, happy, and ready to head home.