My friend Leon arrived on Saturday night. I spent the day inside doing schoolwork and cleaning the apartment in preparation. Leon is the most fastidious friend I have and I was a wee bit afraid of his reaction to this place (although I’d taken great pains to manage his expectations beforehand.) I popped down to a bar in the evening to watch as much as I could of the England/USA game. It was a much more interesting match than France/Uruguay, with the US offering some surprisingly good play. There was a group of French guys singing British cheers and I eventually asked them why they were rooting for England, not France. They explained that Nice isn’t France and so they don’t cheer for France. Uh, okay. I went back to watching the game. I think England and the US might have the best looking teams so far in the tournament (not in terms of play, in terms of handsomeness!) 
Leon’s plane was due to arrive at 10:10 p.m. and the last bus leaves for the airport at 9:55 p.m. so I made sure I was at the stop 10 minutes in advance. Apparently, French bus drivers don’t adhere to the schedule because the bus never came. This was a problem because Leon did not have my address and I wasn’t sure if he had my phone number either. Thus ensued a rather comical/frustrating series of unanswered texts and voicemail messages from me to him, texts between me and my friend Petra who would then post the information to Leon’s Facebook page (in the event that he somehow had access to that but not his phone service) and me walking back and forth at night from my place to the train station where the bus stop is located. Eventually, after still not hearing from him, I gave in and took the $90 taxi to the airport (if the bus had arrived, it would have been $1.30. Grrr) and Leon, his dead cellphone and I were reunited.
On Sunday we walked the entire city and I felt so happy that Leon was as appreciative of Nice as I am. We went to the beach and through Vieux Nice, up into the hills and basically earned the big lunch and dinners we had. In the evening we went back to Wayne’s bar to watch the Australia vs. Germany football match. It was a bit of an evisceration, with Germany just slapping the Aussies around like they were amateurs. The band that I had met on Friday was playing again so we watched a bit of that. The bar wasn’t nearly as full but the kids still all ended up dancing on the tables again.
Leon and I take a little break lying on a park bench in the hills.
A cute young guy standing next to us began talking to Leon and I (but mostly Leon). We were both individually trying to assess whether he was straight or gay but we never figured it out. I was hoping he was gay and kept trying to give Leon opportunities to talk to him. I think Leon was doing the same for me. Either way, the guy was very, very nice and Leon and I were both idiots. We never asked his name and when I suggested we go outside to get some fresh air, we didn’t invite him. I just figured he would come along (or maybe I thought Leon would suggest it because he’d been talking to him more, I don’t know.) At any rate, we left him and then he came out a few minutes later and said he was going home. When he was gone, we debriefed and decided that we are idiots when it comes to men.
Monday was the culmination of four days of celebrating the 150th anniversary of Nice. Apparently, Nice was one of the last regions to join France (which might explain why the guy in the bar was adamant that he wasn’t French… but dude, it’s been 150 years, give in already.) Our teacher took us on a field trip to the water to watch the air show, which explains why I had seen planes practising last week. When we got to the beach, it was PACKED with spectators and we arrived just in time to see about 35 parachutists falling from the sky. The first one to land scared the crap out of me because he looked like he’d lost control, but then subsequent parachutists landed in similar fashion so I figured that’s just how it’s done. Then the jets took off. It turn out that the fighter jet team is led by a woman, which I thought was pretty cool, and they play bits of her commands over the loudspeakers in between the commentator’s information about the celebration and the air team. The commentator was funny, instructing us to be impressed and to applaud.
Some of the parachutists prepare for landing.
Spectators in front of a random carousel - a requisite for French cities.
One of the parachutists flies a French flag behind him/her.
Watching the planes
They felt so much closer than they look in the picture.
After the air show, we made our way back home because we both had to work and then went for a long walk in the evening (a necessity for me when I’m around Leon because he forces me to eat almost as much in one meal as I would in an entire day on my own and to drink about four times as much wine. I don’t think I ever want to eat or drink again.) In the evening there was a fireworks show but unfortunately we were in a restaurant and could only hear it. I’m sure it was spectacular though.
June 16, 2010 at 2:49 am |
Yay…glad you and your ‘low-gnung’ (husband
) eventually met up and that he made sure you enjoyed fine French fare and wine during his brief visit.