Back from the holiday to Nice today; lots to mention.
Sunday
Flew out of Coventry airport - which in reality is little more than an airstrip and a couple of portacabins - at an ungodly hour. Getting up at 4am at the weekend shouldn’t be allowed. Once up in the air though, and through the clouds, it was beautiful. The sun cast a shadow of the plane on clouds, and it was surrounded by a rainbow nimbus; absolutely gorgeous.
We arrived at Nice Cote D’Azur airport to temperatures of around 30C. Catching a taxi to our hotel, we dropped our bags off and headed straight out again to Nice Old Town, and the flower and vegetable market at Cours Saleya. It’s a beautiful place, full of fresh flowers and vegetables, spices, herbs, jams, jellies and mustards. I could have stayed there for hours. Walking back to the hotel via the beach on the Promenade des Anglais, we checked in formally and headed for the train station to Cannes. It was hot. The temperature had peaked by this point, and it was hot and sweaty going making our way past the site of the Cannes Film Festival and around the harbour. After stopping for a much needed drink and rest in the shade, we continued on to the far end of the harbour to catch a catamaran to the Iles de Lérins, and Saint-Marguerite. The island is home to Fort Royal, where the Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned for 11 years before being transferred to the the infamous Bastille. I was actually quite surprised to see his cell. A decent size, it had toilet facilities and a large window - iron barred though, of course. Still, a prison cell is a prison cell.
In the other cells, I was interested to see several murals. In 1992, an artist had been invited to paint murals depicting imprisonment and freedom on the walls. Photography wasn’t permitted, although I didn’t realise that until I’d taken a photo. A curator/assistant came running to investigate the source of the flash, and told me in no uncertain terms that cameras were not allowed to be used. I’m glad I managed to get one picture, though. The murals were impressive.
Outside the cell, my sister Louise and I inadvertently stepped in the way of a sign detailing the murals. A woman was trying to read it, and as we got in the way she gave us a haughty look, and made an imperious and silent shooing gesture with her hand, as if we were particularly nasty pieces of dirt. Louise and I stepped out of the way automatically, but loudly declared, “How rude!” to her back, which she ignored. She may have assumed we didn’t speak French, or she didn’t speak English, but anyone could understand a polite, “Excusez-moi?”. We weren’t impressed.
Heading back, we caught the boat again from the pier. I stayed on the deck rather than the upper tier on the way back, wanting to catch some spray to cool down. The spray that hit the sea caught the sunlight and formed rainbows that disappeared in a split second, and I was reminded of the aeroplane’s shadow and the nimbus around it. Pretty.
Catching the train back to Nice, we rested for 45 minutes or so at the hotel before getting a taxi out to Old Town and finding a place to eat dinner, right next to an outdoor bar showing the Euro 2004 final. The supporters were obviously in favour of Greece, as evidenced by the almighty roar of appreciation as the team scored. We limped back to the hotel, footsore but full.
I slept so soundly that night.
Monday
I realised on the Sunday evening that despite the sunblock I’d put on that day, I’d managed to burn just slightly on the back of my arms. Covering up wasn’t that pleasant in the strong heat, but at least it protected the burnt areas from getting worse.
After breakfast (continental, French style), and meeting up with Steph, we caught a train to Monaco. It’s well known as being a tax haven for the rich and famous, of course, and it shows. The harbour is full of huge yachts, and the apartments for sale in the agent windows that we saw started from around 750,000 euros. Despite the low level cloud over the mountains that surround Monaco, the sky was otherwise blue and the temperature was high and humid. Climbing the hill to the Palace, the view got ever more impressive. Monaco is a huge and dense place. The Cathedral was another stopping point. Inside it’s beautiful, with coloured light from the stained glass windows reflected on the stone floor. There are tomb markers for the ancestors of the royal family, but the most noticeable one is to Princess Grace. It looks just like all the others; a simple stone set into the floor with her name on - Gratia Patricia, wife of Rainier III; obit MCMLXXXII. The difference to the others is the fresh flowers laid upon the stone, and the discreet sign beside it - ‘Silence et respect’. I thought it was beautiful.
Up until fairly recently, its major income was from the infamous Casino. We did visit that, of course, but I wasn’t that impressed. Access to the games room meant paying an additional fee, and the roomful of slot machines was just that - machines. The major income now is tourism, and it shows. The Palace grounds are devoted to streets of shops selling all manner of gifts and items. I succumbed too, and bought myself a replica katana. Thankfully, it made it through Customs and I got it home safely.
The highlight of Monaco by far, though, was the visit to the Musée Oceanographique. It’s a huge museum devoted to the flora and fauna of the sea, and it’s where I took most of my pictures.
Tuesday
A misunderstanding of some kind with the taxis meant the 5-person taxi became 2 normal taxis to get us to the airport. Thankfully, we arrived in plenty of time, and the plane took off as scheduled. Even on short journeys, flying knocks me for a loop. Despite the fact I have no problem flying, I need an hour or so to recover once I get off the plane. By the time I got back home to Sheffield, I felt perfectly fine, though. Back to reality tomorrow. It’s strange to think that just this morning I woke up in a foreign country.
Time to think about my next holiday, I think.
P.S. Flying over London was a lot of fun. I loved seeing the Thames from 20,000 feet and looking down at the top of the Millenium Dome, whilst at the same time being able to see where the Thames fed into the sea.
