Spelt Nice, felt nice….Pronounced Nees (5 pictures, 1 video, 12 lessons)
Of course then there was the south of France, my first encounter with the country of course training it in from Milan. This was where i had all preconceptions of the French swiftly and permanently dispelled.
It was where i learned that even though the baker sounded like he was messing with me, i really should have gone left to go down the hill like he said.
It was where i learned that a girl from Perpignan assumed i was an artist and invited me over for dinner based almost purely on the fact that we had both missed our bus from the same bus stop.
It was where i learned that Hugo from Lyon and his two lady friends from America somewhere that stayed in my hostel, though we had much in common, were horrible people and it was far more pleasurable to drink my pint of rose on the roof and watch the clear night sky look down on me with its many eyes.
It was where i leaned that with my smatterings of arabic, french, and spanish i could communicate for over 2 hours with Ahmed and his brother who were travelling across France in a beat up old Peugot to meet up with their scattered relatives because things for his brother (whose name i stress to recall) weren’t looking good and he hadn’t much time left with Ahmed.
It was where i learned of the Boulangerie et Patisserie and their 3 euro baguette sandwiches, how lovely they were sat upon cold stones in Messina Place, accordian music reminding me that i was knee deep in a cliche (video below).
It was where i learned that Nico who ran the hostel and owned the dirty hippy van outside was passing through Nice for a month 6 years ago.
It was where i learned that an old french lady who doesn’t speak a word of english will somehow understand me if i speak it in a french accent.
It was where i learned that the man at the wine shop will safely assume my day’s intentions and whip out the corkscrew before i’ve even paid.
It was where i learned that you could have a stretch of beach miles long without a grain of sand, but rather pebbles, millions of pebbles.
It was where i learned that four girls in a car would pick up a hairy, not entirely clean looking indivdual (me) at 1 in the morning since a bottle of wine and the winding roads of Mont Boron would not have added up to me sleeping in my rented bed that night any other way.
It was where i learned that a pint of red wine should only be ordered if one has more than 5 minutes to finish it lest one wants one’s brain to constantly try to burst out of one’s skull until one sinks 2 feet deep into the 1 foot deep bed in the sleeper car on the train to Paris.
Also there was Cannes, i didn’t learn anything there, but i did feel poor and take this picture.