I shouldn’t have let this many days pass since my last entry. It’s hard to remember stuff. This is my last week in Nice and the time seems to be flying by.
On Thursday I decided I would go to the Matisse museum after class, but when class ended, some of the girls asked if I was going to join them for lunch. Our teacher had suggested a restaurant a few weeks ago and we have had no luck getting in on two previous dinner attempts so they thought we should try lunch instead. It was a lovely day and I needed to eat so I figured I could go to the museum afterward. When we met up half an hour later at 1:30 p.m. at the restaurant, we were told that it had finished its lunch service and wasn’t opening again until 7:30 p.m. Honestly, we are cursed when it comes to this place. I actually think the young, handsome waiter enjoys rejecting us. He’s always very apologetic but I sense a hint of glee behind that finely chiselled exterior.
The four of us, Lina (from Sweden), Denise (from New Zealand) and Lisa and I (both from Toronto) went to another place that Denise had enjoyed the day before. We sat out on the patio in Place Garibaldi, a big square lined with restaurants with a fountain at the centre. We ate and drank in the sunshine and got to know each other better. It is precisely moments like this that make me love living abroad. I loved learning about each woman’s experiences and her opinions and plans for the future. We are each at crossroads at the moment, not sure of what we’ll be doing next, but enjoying the moment and appreciating this experience now. I loved finding common ground to laugh over and experiencing the realization that I’m possibly building more than a passing acquaintance. It’s a lovely feeling, friendship-building, and I hate that my time here is quickly coming to an end.
After my lovely lunch, which included fois gras and duck proscuito, I went back home to take my laundry off the line. The sky was looking questionable as I walked and by this time I got home it started spitting. I got the laundry in just before the real rain came, skuppering my museum plans. It turns out it’s not such a big loss. Several of the other students have told me the Matisse museum is not worth it and that it only has one notable piece in the collection.
Instead I worked on my enviro course assignment and French homework and then, in the evening, I went back out and met up with Marco, a student from one of the other classes, and we watched France lose to Mexico while practising our French. Although he’s in a lower class than me, Marco speaks really well (having the advantage of being Italian). I found myself bumbling and stumbling and resorting to simple, short “oui” answers with varying emphasis: “Ah, oui.” “Ouiiiii.” “Oh, OUI!” “Oui-eahh.” Ridiculous.
On Friday, I thought I might try the museum anyway – and perhaps take part in another game of Petanque! – but, once again, some other students invited me to join them on an excursion to Villefranche Sur Mer, a little town just southwest of Nice. The beach there is supposed to be nicer than Nice, with more sand than rocks. We took the bus, which travels high above this hilly coastal town, and then descended the tiny streets down to the beach. It’s a pretty little place, Villefranche is.
One of the walkways up and down in Villefranche
One of the many tiny residential streets
We sunned on the beach, chatting away the afternoon, and then I headed back around 6 p.m. leaving the others to continue bronzing themselves (I really don’t need any more colour. I do, however, need a new bikini.) As I walked back through the town to the bus stop up in the hills, I stopped for a second and made myself appreciate what I was doing. I was walking through Villefranche Sur Mer, a little village in the south of France–the south of France where I’ve been living for the past few months. To my left were the yachts and dingys of the super-rich. One of them might belong to Bono who has a house in VSM. To my right was a centuries old town, resplendent in corals, creams, pinks and blues. It’s easy to take these things for granted and I didn’t want to.
Lisa, Marco and Natalia, on our way to the beach.
On the beach.
In the evening, I went down to Vieux Nice to watch England play Algeria. Our proximity to northern Africa means there are lots of Algerians in this part of France so many people were rooting for both teams. Vieux Nice was packed and the bar I went to was so crammed with people I thought they might not let me in. Despite being late, I managed to get a sweet spot with a perfect view of the television — one of the benefits of being one person instead of a group. England, the strong favourites, put on an embarrassing show just like their first game of the match, and the game ended in a 0-0 tie. Yikes.
Earlier in the day, while we were at the beach, my voice started disappearing (in the next phase of this lovely cold of mine) and by Saturday morning, it was all but gone. I spent the whole day alone so I didn’t have to do much talking anyway, but I’d occasionally try to sing along to my iTunes just to amuse myself at the discordant cracking. I went for a long rollerblade, did more laundry, worked on the essay, cleaned, procrastinated and, in the evening, went out to a small bar and watched Cameroon lose to Denmark in a fine showing by both sides. THAT was a fun game. Ordering my drinks with no voice was also quite amusing. After the game, I treated myself to a big ice cream cone to soothe my throat and then headed home.
I was on my way to sleeping well for the first time in a week or so when my left arm started itching like crazy and woke me up at 3 a.m. I realized that a mosquito had somehow got in and had had a field day on my arm. I had about five bites that were swelling grotesquely. I threw on the lights, jumped out of bed and spent the next 20 minutes poised to kill the little bugger. After a couple of failed attempts (and it managed to bite me AGAIN on the thigh!), I spotted it on the wall near the ceiling and brought a swift and bloody end to its parasitic life. Let that be a warning to all of you mosquitoes far and wide.
After finally falling back to sleep, I woke to thunder and lightning this morning. Unusual. I opened the window and the skies above me were bright, but in the distance, over the ocean, was an ominous black cloud and I could see a column of grey rain falling from it. It didn’t seem to be advancing or retreating and, from the safety of my window, I watched the shards of lightning crash down from the clouds and listened to the cracks of thunder seconds later, as if an angry afterthought.
My pictures never do anything justice. Sigh. It was darker and more ominous than this.
In the afternoon, I met up with Lina, Fed and several other Italians to watch Italy play unimpressively against New Zealand. Actually, to be fair, Italy put a lot of shots on goal, but the NZ keeper was fully on his game today. I ate like a horse at the pub and wandered home slowly digesting after the game.
So it hasn’t really been much of a Nice-centric final weekend in Nice, but it’s been good nonetheless.
June 22, 2010 at 4:57 am |
that should be your profile pic!