I don't know much about the history of France, nor do I really care. But I think it's safe to say that Sunday we conquered Nice. Liza and I were the first up and about, and decided to have a morning swim before the arrival of La Mer. The Nice beach is tricky - it had been described as pebbles, but really it's rocks. And that doesn't rock. But while laying on it isn't the best ever, it's also not terrible, and leaving sand free is pretty solid.
After about an hour we swung though the market of Cours Seleya and picked up provisions for a sunset picnic. A couple of baguettes, a bag of sun dried tomatoes (AMAZING ONES), 100 grams of olives, three varieties of goat cheese, and the biggest reddest tomato you've ever seen in your life. When we made it back to our apt, our fourth had arrived, and we were ready to rage war on France.
Nice has bike share. Let's just say it's not very shareable. Instead we rented bikes from a little shop on the promenade, and took an awesome bike ride to the other side of the pier. Liza was convinced we could ride all the way to a beach we'd read about in Villefranche, but 15 minutes later and a giant mountain in our way, we turned around and went to this little beach that the locals frequent. The upside of a local beach is lots of boobs. It sounds gross, but it's super fun to talk about other people's boobs. Tacky? Yes. Who cares.
We rode our bikes back over to the pier for a snack and some vin, and then took a long ride down the promenade and back. We came home and took a wonderful round of cold showers before heading out on our sunset picnic at the top of Parc du Chateau. Bad news about the Parc: it's at the top of a ridiculous hill. Good news about the Parc: there's an elevator to the top. Bad news about the Parc: elevator closes at 7. Arriving at 7:05 p.m., freshly showered and dolled up, not so hot? Actually extremely hot. In the end totally worth it, though apparently the Parc also closed at 7 and they'd been waiting for us to leave for 90 mins.
We had dinner in Cours Saleya at a place The Heff suggested because she liked their chairs. We shared some massive oysters, and then Liza and I split a ridiculous pot of mussels. La Mer had some spaghetti de le mer, and The Heff sort of had some $50 boulebaisse. And by sort of she said it tasted like powder and didn't eat any of it.
Le Mer was starting to feel jet lagged, and we were all a little woozy, so decided to have one last drink next to our apartment. Well I mean...maybe one last bottle...well, maybe just one more beer...well, maybe you should tell us where in Nice we can dance...oh, and maybe that place should be the only place in Nice where, quote, "you're allowed to dance on the tables." In Portugal last year, finding a place that would play pop music instead of house music was impossible. NOT A PROBLEM IN FRANCE YA'LL. Oh, you want to hear Beyonce? NO PROBLEM. Dance floor = total domination. At one point we were just completely surrounded by dudes. Thankfully Wayne's World closed at 2:30 a.m. otherwise we likely would have been there all night. Bad news, everyone then moves to another dance spot, which we stuck with for only a couple drinks before retiring. No one had to be carried up the stairs, though maybe a gentle nudge was necessary. My favorite brilliant idea ever for trying to sober up before bed: let's have a dance party to songs from Nashville. It totally worked.
(no it didn't, it's been a long day).
Bottles of wine:
-6 Rose
Desperados drunk:
1
Desperados cancelled and replaced with Budweisers:
4
Times Mambo No. 5 heard:
1
Times Mambo No. 5 defended as a legit song choice by a DJ:
1
Ghosts seen:
1?
Drag queens seen:
Too many
Anti-anxiety pills taken:
infiniti
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