Much as I loved Avignon, we were there in the height of a swiftly warming Spring and at night, the house that we lived in swarmed with mosquitoes. In the heat, I could hear Bear creaking frustratedly on the top bunk as they gathered along the wall, looking for all the world like tiny cloves. Each time I fell back asleep, the pneumatic whine jerked me into wakefulness. By morning, our cheeks were covered in tiny red bites.
Thus sleep-deprived, we trundled over to Nice where we settled ourselves in the bright purple-and-white guest bedroom on the fifth floor apartment of an immaculate man called Yves. After an afternoon of walking, we split a cheap bottle of peach wine and crawled under the sheets at nine. The next time I opened my eyes, twelve hours had passed and the cool, white morning light was streaming in through the window on soft birdsong. Bear and I shuffled round in bed, looked at each other simultaneously and burst out laughing. "What the hell was that?"
Turns out that Nice is some of the best sleep you may ever have.
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Everyone we told about Nice said that it was way too crowded and touristy and that there wasn't much to do. I suppose that wasn't exactly wrong. But it reminded me of Cannes in the best way possible, the voluptuous meals, the hot scent of rocks and tar on the air, the clean blue sky. I spent days in Cannes walking around by myself, listening to music and delving into the kind of difficult thought that comes with easy places.
So in Nice, even without itinerary or incentive, I enjoyed strolling the long boardwalk and following the coastline with my eyes.
On one end of the shore, gaily-painted boats bumped gently along the dock. I amused myself by trying to read and translate their names as Bear took pictures of children playing along the concrete gangways. (I realise now, three months of classes later, just how awful my French was when I was actually in the country. I'm surprised waiters didn't shuffle away quickly to hide their laughter each time I ordered. And there's still a long way to go, so I suppose another trip is on the cards!)
We followed the pathway out of the harbour and out along the pebble beach where children were playing in earnest.
We spent bits of one day dipping in and out of the beach, retreating to ice cream shops and pots of mussels when the sun got to be too much, and eventually, as evening fell, the sea melted into the perfectly pale tint that I had been longing to capture since we'd arrived.
As you can see, I was also enamoured of this little girl and the adorable brother that grasped her hand right after she burst into tears.
So, like Cannes, Nice was hot and crowded and touristy, but for a short, comfortable break filled with good food and people-watching, it's exactly the kind of hot, crowded and touristy you need.
Two days of sun, sea, sandals and a whole lot of sleep.
