Widening Horizons

Day two in Nice dawned with a slight turn in the weather. The maitre d’ at breakfast decided to classify it as “British, or Scottish’ with an implication we had somehow brought all this blustery coldness with us in the back of our little Peugot. We ignored him. It wasn’t really that bad, just really poor in comparison to the day before. The wind was whipping up waves on the beach and had chased away all the sunbathers. The sun had a hard time getting through the clouds with any sort of consistency or strength.

Taking the conditions into account, we decided the day was more suited to a walkabout through various parts of Nice. We targeted a few items: the Musee Matisse, the Musee Archelogique (and the accompanying Roman ruins) and the old Monastery. That would take us to lunch, and with our hopeless optimism we decided that after lunch the wind would die down, the sun would come out and we could go sit on the beach. Nothing really turned out to be what we thought it would, but we’re coming around to enjoying the unexpected on this vacation.

All our attractions were grouped in a neighbourhood of Nice called Cimiez, tucked up in the surrounding hills. We decided to avail ourselves of public transport to avoid the uphill climb and managed, after some difficulty, to secure a spot on the number 22 autobus. I’m pretty impressed with the public transport along the Cote d’Azur. It’s efficient, relatively cheap, well laid out and feels quite safe.

The Matisse Museum is in large, old, restored and very red building on the edge of this little park filled with small dogs being chased by small children and old people playing petanque under groves of Russian olive trees. I could make a quip about the location being more dramatic than the works within the museum, but that would be a bit harsh. We were a little disappointed, however. Although there were a few works we liked, including some work Matisse had done in preparation for designing and decorating a local church, a lot of it was simple line work that made you question why exactly it was museum-worthy. But for a no fee entry, who’s going to complain.

We did receive an unexpected bonus in the form of a temporary exhibition of another artist’s work. Although we didn’t like everything he had done, we quite enjoyed the landscapes and still lifes, which were pleasantly abstract and awash with colour. Plus, he had the added attraction of an interesting life story, being the father Robert de Niro. Yes, that Robert de Niro. Look up some of his (Robert de Niro Sr) stuff if you’re interested, or just come to Nice to see it for yourself.

Right across the park was the archaeological museum and the old Roman ruins. The ruins consisted of an old bathing complex and a large amphitheatre. The amphitheatre was, well, in ruins, and although I didn’t expect a fully restored Colliseum - a la Gladiator – I am highly suspicious that the Romans left a fully functioning bulldozer in the middle. It turns out that the government is trying to restore the site a little, perhaps in anticipation of the return of interest in live mortal man versus beast combat. The bath complex and the attached museum were interesting enough to justify the visit, however, so there were no ill feelings. It really was amazing to walk around buildings and structures that you know are 2,000 years old and to see the degree of engineering and scientific know-how that went into creating them. For a history nut like myself, it’s hard to beat.

We crossed the park again to view the old Franciscan monastery. It was a real study in contrasts. The outside of the attached church was bright and colorful, as were the attached formal gardens. The inside of the church was dark and somber, although with colorful old 15^th century paintings, an astoundingly elaborate altar piece and some interesting relics. The gardens were the highlight for me. Everything was in bloom and the views out over the city are not to be beat.

Unfortunately, as finished our tour of the gardens the wind started to pick up to the point that we feared for some the overhanging tree branches. We hustled back to the bus stop and got back on the old trusty number 22. In one of the ever increasing incidents of us deviating from the plan (really, if we were going to do that, why did I generate a thorough, detailed 22 page ppt listing each city’s features and attractions?) we got off the bus early and ducked into the Chagall Museum.

Wow.

I hadn’t been a big fan of Chagall prior to this visit. I had seen a few works and thought them a little too … well, a little too something. But this purpose built museum was covered in wall after wall of large, colorful works that just took our breath away. Each wall generally had one large painting of a biblical scene on it. A special room had a series of 5 from the Song of Songs, which he generated as a gift for his wife. We thought they were amazing.

We bussed it back into town and saw from the empty beaches that we were going to have to revise our plan for the afternoon. We broke out some baguettes and brie along with the juiciest oranges I’ve ever eaten and had a hotel room lunch. Then we set about trying to determine where to go for dinner. Once we settled on a place highly recommended by all the guidebooks and secured a reservation we kind of looked at each other, slightly guilty looks on our faces because we knew that what we really wanted to do that afternoon would, in some contexts seem like a tremendous waste of a visit to Nice.

We closed the shutters and had a nap. A 2 hour nap. It’s amazing how well you can sleep with the wind whipping and the surf crashing outside your window.

Refreshed, bright-eyed and bushy tailed we got fancied up for dinner and scooted around the block to a place called the 11e Art. There were a few signs that it was going to be good.

• Our waiter didn’t speak English. This means it won’t be a tourist trap that feeds imitation French food, but will serve up the real stuff.
• The staff greeted some patrons that clearly were not family with hugs and kisses. This means the place has faithful regulars.
• They had a tasting menu - 6 courses for 24 euros. Wow. Variety and value.

I wish we could say we had the tasting menu, but those things never work for us. We actually have a hard time in the Cote d’Azur because of the amount of fish and olives that are in everything – Fiona can’t eat fish because of an allergy and I won’t eat olives as they and I are in an mutual state of antagonism that is bordering on all out war.

We did score winners on all of our dishes, though, and also on the wine. That’s a rare occurrence. Fiona started with some langoustines over a corn and bean sprout salad, followed by chicken with crispy, fried risotto. The chicken came with a test tube of a calvados based sauce that you could pour over as you wished. It was funky and outrageously good. She finished with a rather good tiramisu. I had a small grilled lobster over a salad of avocado and radish.

Digression: if we leave this journey with nothing else, we will have gained a thorough and long-lasting appreciation for the humble radish. We’ve had them as a side or starter many times here and I’ve forgotten how tasty they can be.

I finished up with duck breast over potatoes and a dessert too complicated to describe fully, so I’ll leave it as orange mousse in a chocolate tube.

The restaurant was lively and welcoming and we would recommend it to anyone.

Back at the hotel we fretted a little about the lack of internet access (hence the late posting) which frustrated my attempts to keep up with the comings and goings at the Master’s Tournament.

Today dawned with a slight improvement in the weather. We had hoped to spend it poolside, but have been mostly on our balcony, watching the surf and the people and catching up on our reading. We did manage to get down to the beach early in the morning when the wind was a bit calmer. The weather has caused the water to separate into two distinctly different blue colors – one a light, iridescent blue and the other a more foreboding navy blue. I think the separation has to do with the drop-off in the sea floor. The steepness of that drop off has meant that we haven’t gone really far into the water. If you take your shoes off to go wading, the steepness of the bank and the pain of the pebbles would probably mean that you couldn’t move fast enough should a rogue wave try and soak you from behind. We’ll save the real beach activities for St. Tropez starting tomorrow. If we decide to get wet today it will be in the indoor-outdoor pool at our hotel.