DAY 25: Sailin’ with the Capt’n

Rain, rain go away… not so nice in Nice today. Instead of running, I decided to kick my own butt with a P90X workout in Nico’s living room (don’t worry, he was gone…) and got jacked up on espresso. Sofia cordially agreed to meet me for lunch, so through the mud and the muck we tromped to the Old Town Marche aux Fleurs- tent absentees coped out due to the mini-tsunami. We chose an Italian bistro called La Voglia and sat outside (walls and space heaters were prevalent) and enjoyed a grand lunch of grilled calamari over a version of potato gratin with greens, herbs and tomatoes. The rain only got worse as we sat, so we agreed on ordering dessert. I figured chocolate mousse would be a small little treat… WRONG. I was soon introduced to Jenny Craig’s worst nightmare: a giant salad bowl layered with white, milk and dark chocolate mousse, topped with chocolate shavings- 11% of the way I started to have sucrose over load. The clouds parted and blue skies peeked through just as I conquered my up-chuck reflex...

Sofia took me up to the “castle” which no longer stands, but is the highest point in the city with a spectacular view… ochre slate stacked on vanilla and caramel stucco with lemon and olive trees caretaking building entrances. With snowcapped mountains in the distance, palm trees line the pebble beach foreground, littered with cobalt blue lounge chairs, sitting empty and soaked. She and Nico worked on a film together in Nice starring Ashton Kutcher and Katherine Heigl (Killers?), so she showed me a few places they shot. We said goodbye and I continued to walk around town for a better part of the afternoon, until a man started following me around, whispering to me in 3 different languages… I went into a shoe store to get away, but he waited for me outside. The storeowner asked if I needed something… trying to explain that you’re being followed to a woman who doesn’t comprehend a lick of English, is a treat. He finally walked away and I ran into a Le Bistro to camp out- I sat under a big torch on the patio with a glass of Cotes du Rhone red and read P&P for two hours. Mr. Daw-sy is trying to hide his affections for Elizabeth…

My hostess-with-the-mostess and I planned to meet at 7 pm in front of Palais de Justice. It didn’t look too far/difficult on the map, but my geographic intellect is on par with that of a beetle’s and I, of course, got lost. Nico forgot his phone, so at 7:45, we finally found each other. He’s been reading my blogs, so he understands I’m directionally handicapped.  He took me to his friend’s restaurant, Le Bistro du Vieux Nice and we sat at one of the seven tables. I ordered the sea bass upon his recommendation and out came the entire fishy topped with a ratatouille and grilled endive with fettuccini and carrots. Nico ordered a pooh-pooh platter of his favorite items, one of which being eggplant caviar wrapped in prosciutto on a parmesan crisp with cherry tomatoes- tasty. We laughed a lot and over a Lemoncello digestif, decided to check out “Wayne’s” (English) bar down the street. We arrived during the calm before the storm… a British band “Paper Planes” sang covers from Taylor Swift to the Beatles in front of long, narrow tables in a cave behind the bar… that should paint a fairly good picture of what was in store… Two Amstel Lights in and the Aussies were behaving in a manner their fathers would not approve of, encouraged by “Captain Jack,” who kept their tanks full. Our “cocktail waiter” donned army boots, tight jean shorts with his boxer brief’s band exposed reading: “Be Nice.” His belly shirt was tightly secured to his 112 pound frame with suspenders… and don’t forget the straw cowboy hat that covered is sun bleached poodle coif. After a gut-wrenching rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama," we crawled out- sanity barely in tow. Paddy’s Irish Pub found us and “Rudolfo” AND his fedora serenaded the predominately male crowd with Elvis’s “Hound Dog.” I felt like I was in Oximoron Melodyville…”Good times were had by all including the Romanian drunk, the Canadian bartender, the Irish tennis player, my new French friend and myself- the tall blond that makes French women look like starving children from Somalia. We walked back to the flat and called it an evening around 2 am…

Early train to Milan tomorrow… ITALIA HERE I COME!!! Ciao Ciao!