Cloudy day in Nice yesterday.
We sat on the beach, by the Negresco’s reserved space, and did some plane spotting: the jets come in from the east right overhead before landing.
There’s so many of them!
We went to Massena, after I decided against swimming in the cold sea, and found the right money changer, who gave us .78 euros to the dollar.
(Thanks for the tip, Eric, mon pote.)
Then I hung around as my wife did some shopping.
I continue to admire the extraordinary buildings in Nice, but I’m noticing that I’m now starting to take the lesser ones for granted.
Here’s one that caught my eye, on Gambetta.
Nice is civilization on a human scale. I have come to dislike skyscrapers, but do not care for the artificially preserved quaint fishing village look found in so many tourist traps in the South of France either.
Nice is a living city; though I found the pace of life too slow, here, in my 20s, it is now just right.
I’ve a grin on my face from being on the Mediterranean, and I haven’t watched television since arriving,
The stress of mad America is lifting,
We returned to Quartier des Musiciens because of all the rain, and bought a couple of Pan Bagnats that we washed down in the apartment with Badoit mineral water. Delicious, very filling and only 10 euros.
Then we just hung out, and watched the rain for the rest of the late afternoon, as she stitched, and I fiddled around with my chromebook, and we looked at the pic of the wild parrot we encountered on Blvd Victor Hugo the previous day.
The contentment of casual domesticity set in.
Then, for the first time in a while, my wife gave me a hug and a real kiss before we retired.
I can’t remember the last time that happened in Florida.
Life is good, again.