03-03-14
It’s a chilled morning in Nice. I’d say about 5 degrees. The sea is a perfect turquoise colour and the waves are crashing against the rocks. It’s a peaceful setting. I just stopped by a boulangerie, picked up a tartes aux fruites, in other words a raspberry tart. I perched myself on a rock on the coast. A pigeon began pestering me or my delicious tart, so I retreated to a bench on the promenade. It’s cold. Not Canada cold, but a Nice cold. There is a woman on the pebble beach in a pink bikini is sitting in the water. She’s brave; all I can think about is how I need gloves. When I look to the left there is snow capped Alps and rows and rows of beautiful Mediterranean houses. There are people jogging behind me in this chilled weather. I can’t help but think that they are so lucky to live here.
I had a great day yesterday. It was pouring rain- nothing as going to stop me from checking out the ancient city Saint-Paul-de-Vence. Lucky me, a rainy day in March is the ideal time to visit. The streets were quite, nearly barren. You could feel the soul of the village. A shop owner said upwards of 2 million people visit in the summer months. The village is surrounded by the hills of Provence. On a rainy day as such, mist looked as if it was growing out of the mountains. A serene view! When inside the village, lights from the galleries illuminated wet sidewalk. We ventured to the grave yard. While I am put off by graveyards, my Singaporean travel mate was in awe, “How peaceful it would be to be laid to rest here!” peaceful indeed. Even on the gloomiest day, the beauty could not be masked, only intensified. After our stroll we were directed to a cozy restaurant surrounded by a stunning view. I sipped on local red wine and ate onion soup (you drop the French when in France!). I couldn’t help but think about how Scott would love it here, especially the soup.
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