The French Riviera is not what I expected. Yes, there is a wide expanse of beach and a beautiful boardwalk. Yes, even in cooler temperatures there are topless bathers. The color of the water is an incredible blue. I just didn’t expect the rocks. Not soft sand, but big stones. Not the stroll-down-the-water’s-edge-in-a-bikini-with-a-seductive-roll-of-the-hips beach, more like a trying-not-to-fall-down-walking-like-a-drunk hike. The town of Nice itself was lovely, and I was especially looking forward to the outdoor market. I wasn’t disappointed, it was a foodie’s paradise.
Not the stroll-down-the-water’s-edge-in-a-bikini-with-a-seductive-roll-of-the-hips beach, more like a trying-not-to-fall-down-walking-like-a-drunk hike.
Fruit like fresh figs and clementines, heirloom vegetables, thick, white asparagus, garlic braids, artichokes, spices, herbs, olives, an assortment of mushrooms to swoon over (the fresh cépes being my favorites, or maybe chanterelles), poultry, game, cheeses that never leave the country, sausages coated in any number of peppers, herbs and even ash, and made from wild boar, venison and duck, and all that before we came to the many stands of flowers. It was breathtaking and made me quite jealous that I couldn’t shop like a European and have such glory available to me daily. As much as I like Market Basket it just can’t compete with this.
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The city is charming. We visited the Chateau de Nice, the waterfall and citadel, and browsed the back streets of the old town. We lunched at a café at the market, and had a beer called Saint Omer, which we photographed for our Aunt Dee as Omer was the name of one of her brothers. The others ate pizza, soup, and salad, but for me: mussels. They were delicious in a tomato and onion broth, and I put a good dent in the pot. Unfortunately I’m not sure mussels will be on the menu for me for a long time to come.
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We left port that night for the journey to Corsica, but the seas were not as calm as the Captain had made us believe they’d be. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling a bit odd. Was I seasick? I’d never been seasick before and have spent a lot of time on the water. Well, it didn’t matter what it was, it wasn’t pretty, and I’m going to guess it might have been the mussels only because of the length of time it took to recover. I was out of commission for about 36 hours; long after the boat had stopped rolling. I never saw Corsica, or the statue of Napoleon, or his place of birth. I kept happily to bed with ginger ale and plain French bread. And took a Dramamine before we left port that night. Just in case.
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