On Friday past I took my caravan of trinkets, treasures and niff nafs and headed towards Nice. My mission was to set up a temporary gypsy fortification inside a hotel, get up the lay of the land and be prepared for my fair maidens arrival by aluminium bird(plane).

Nice is actually quite cool. It does have a reputation for petty crime but the only criminal activity I witnessed was some really bad violin playing. This was balanced out by some incredible piano accordion playing. Some of the best I have seen in France.

With the the mini bar healthily diminished I set about repacking my assorted assortments of curios, loot and ensembles. My wife would probably describe it as my crap, which is a fair assessment. I have also been mixing tunes together, a long lost love which probably should have stayed lost if my recent dalliances are to be heard. My wife has had the presence of mind not to say anything. I will take this as a muted compliment and will continue until she gets ear plugs.

On Saturday morning I ventured to the Aeroport by bus. I went to the wrong terminal. For visitors to Nice Aeroport there are in fact two terminals. If your wife is arriving via Norway it should be pretty easy to find her flight. There are not that many fights to and from Norway.

With my Wife safely in my arms we went back to the hotel unloaded her loot and went out to find some more. What happened next was a Herculean four hour ordeal of shopping. I had bought a mixer the day before so sheepishly declined any shopping. What I did offer was my studied eye for fashion and to carry bags of clothing.

Forget drinking, whoring and other vices associated with Sailors. Most modern yachties go power shopping when they come across land. The ones I like do anyway. I had to opt out at 4pm, leaving my wife to buy some more skirts, belts, shoes or some other such things. She returned after dinner satiated and ready for some adventuring the next day.

Our adventuring was postponed until dusk. We went and sat on the beach and engaged in some forced terrestrial bound radiation exposure. I burned myself quite well. This is my pre summer sacrificial burning that I make to Ra every year. I am still pink now and hope not to get that burned ever again outside of a crematorium.

As the Sun started to wane we went climbing up around a large hill.

Nice has a nice promenade. It reminds me a little of Livorno. Just better.

Beach with cursed sun beating!

My freshly dressed French mistress.

Impressive war memorial to fallen Gaul.

Really pretty cemetery, did not feel like a cemetery at all.

View from the top.

Arty shot of caged angel.

We had a great meal, drank some wine, absorbed the ambience and enjoyed it for all it is. People in Nice are a lot friendlier than in Antibes. I will be revisiting some of my year old theories about France and the Riviera over the next couple of weeks.

Maintenant je vis à nouveau en France

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