May 6, 2007
I arose early and went across the Arno River to the Piazza Michelangelo to take the aforementioned sunrise photos over Florence. The place was nearly bare of all signs of civilization save a small tour of about 10 senior Americans, and 3 outwardly bored teenagers. I have found that most people really enjoy sunsets and find them romantic in their soothing oranges, reds, and yellows. I however much prefer the sunrise. There is something about the beginning of a new day and the promise of a fresh start that I find refreshing. Each new day is the dawning of a clean slate full of all the promise and potential that awaits. This day the early morning mist lying in the valley obscured the rising sun but the quietness of the moment was inspiring nonetheless and I dared to dream dreams...

I was hesitant about chancing the early morning bus schedule, and it was Sunday, so I coerced my travel partner into walking to the train station instead. Even with our entire luggage in tow, not that disconcerting actually as we traveled with only a medium Pullman, and carry-on Pullman and a backpack, the 30-40 minute walk was easily manageable. For the record I will admit, lest my wife accuse me of withholding evidence, that after we began working up a good cardio exercise, bus #12 passed us en-route to the train station. C’est la’ vie!

We stopped at a little street side café for a morning latte, one of us also had a fresh chocolate croissant, and then we made our way to the station. We arrived with enough time that I went ahead and purchased our reservations for the next leg of our journey, Nice to Paris. Thanks to our time with Aaron I now knew how to read the Partenza Timetables board to check for departure times and binnare (platform) numbers even before they are published on the Partenza Boards. This is not always a guarantee though as bin numbers can change. I did however puff my chest a bit as I led my awestruck bride to the correct bin before its departure bin was published. Sweet!

Our trip to Nice had a stopover and a change of trains in Milan. The first leg was uneventful except for a young woman, I’d say mid-twenties, who talked non-stop on her cell phone the entire trip. And I do mean non-stop. In Milan I had time to grab a couple of sandwiches to eat once we got on board. In Milan we changed trains and this leg was on board a car with private cabins like something from a 1940s movie. All that would be fine were it not for one of the fellow cabin mates. Our cabin seated 6, Bonnie, myself, three middle aged women traveling together and trying to solve some personal drama in one of their lives, and a rather large older matron who was the olfactory marketing ploy for every deodorant manufacturer in existence. I’d been warned about this “feature” and not-so-subtle nuance of the European lifestyle, but the firsthand experience was quite overwhelming.

At Genova thankfully they all got off and we received new travel partners. Our final stops before Nice were in Monte Carlo and then Monaco. We arrived in Nice at 8:30 PM, about 30 minutes later than scheduled as police had boarded and searched the train in Monaco. We looked for indications of bus routes, or even a waiting taxi but couldn’t find any. I finally found a map and decided the route looked easy to negotiate. Given the amount of walking we’d done in Rome, Venice, and Florence, the distance looked quite manageable. Indeed it was. We arrived at the Nice Garden Hotel with no difficulty and met Marian, our hostess. The hotel is actually a small inn of only ten rooms. Again Marian was the strength of the hotel. It appears it is owned by her parents and Marian, probably because she is the most versed in foreign languages, runs the front desk and morning breakfast.

The Nice Garden Hotel, for all its charm and effort, probably would not warrant a return stay from us. Marion was helpful to a fault, and the breakfast in the garden was delightful, but the room was just a bit too basic even for us. The small T.V. sat perched on an upper shelf of the open clothes closet, situated conservatively 8’ above the floor. Were it not for the fact it was the night of the French presidential elections we probably would not have bothered turning it on. Sitting on the edge of the bed craning your neck to watch, even for brief snippets, was more painful than cutesy.

Marion directed us to the “Pedestrian Area” about a block off the beach and a block from our room. I’m not sure if that is a formal title or just her way of identifying it by function. The area is a couple of blocks long and is full of little shops, restaurants, and lots of charm. “Welcome to France!” We loved it and enjoyed the relaxing walk. After dining under the stars we took a walk to window shop and to allow our digestive tracts a little time to work before bed. The weather was good and we were looking forward to a relaxing day tomorrow.

May 7, 2007
We awoke to a beautiful day in Nice. I got up and around earlier than my travel companion, not a huge shock, and set out to explore Nice with camera gear in tow. As a self-acknowledged and somewhat proudly defiant Island Boy, the most compelling feature for me was going to be the beach and thus I quickly headed over to see the Mediterranean shore. The shoreline is like no Caribbean beach I was familiar with. Large smooth stones filled the water’s edge where soft white sands should have been. But the scene itself was beautiful nonetheless with the dappled sunlight filtering in through the overhead trellises along the Promenade. I have already commented on my affection for the early mornings, but this again was a special morning. The day was dawning absolutely beautiful, and we were set to explore and experience another new environment and culture. I could hardly wait for it to begin.

The Promenade des’ Ingles is a long wonderful sweeping boardwalk directly along the water’s edge. It provides a great place to relax and people watch or to actively participate and get your daily exercise. It sits atop about a 10’ tall seawall immediately adjacent to the beach, and is a paved walkway probably 30’ wide. You will see every mode of transportation employed, walking, roller-blading, cycling, jogging and skateboarding. There are young couples hand in hand, and old men with grandchildren in strollers. It was a part of the Cote d’Azure we really enjoyed.

Bonnie awoke and we had breakfast in the small outdoor garden area of the hotel. It was simple fare but Marion could not have been more accommodating. She even gave us a sampling of homemade marmalade her mother had made from the orange tree out the window of our room. After breakfast we spent the entire day lying nearly motionless along the beach and enjoying every wasted moment of it. It was a brief but wonderful retreat from what had been our normal yet very hectic routine.

I had specifically scheduled this stopover to be a place to recharge our batteries after the hard driving days in Rome, Venice, and Florence. Plus we knew we had more of the same scheduled for the days ahead in Paris. We walked the Promenade, shopped the tourist shops of the Pedestrian Area, and just absorbed a beautiful day lying in the Mediterranean sun. One thing that did catch us off guard was the water itself. More akin to the Pacific waters than the Caribbean, the temperature was take-your-breath away frigid. I got in once…briefly, and Bonnie only made it in up to the top of her ankles. But it was not a major disappointment and we loved this little part of the world. We again had dinner in the Pedestrian Area and enjoyed dining al’ fresco, while watching the bustle of activity.

The Promenade specifically, but all of Nice in general, was a real beautiful setting and we thoroughly enjoyed our time there. My journal entry said it best, “It was a beautiful day in a beautiful setting. We would love to return again someday and no doubt will. Nice was… Nice!”

To be continued...