Ah, Nice....

This time…..balmy, atmospheric, sultry, wet. There’s no getting around it. The rain and the mist will follow me for two days in Nice, to Monte Carlo, Ventimiglia, back to Nice, then onto the ferry to Corsica.  This means that my hair has come back to life, curling into its natural Medusa form, in serious need of product -or an exorcism. Ordinarily, my locks are in their regular submissive state: beaten down by hot air, hot iron, and finally bound in place by several clouds of lacquer. I will champion through this as the clouds weep with warm rain- the kind that could ruin someone’s vacation. There is far too much to see, eat, drink, smell, buy, drink, envy, and drink to get in my way.  

It always takes a few days for my jet lag to disappear. I try to run with it and use the sleep deprivation from the plane and consequential disorientation euphoria to my advantage. Nice is surreal, especially at night. If used properly it’s almost like having a flashback.

Once I check into the Hotel Suisse, a beauty on the Promenade des Anglais overlooking the Med that I’ve coveted since my last trip, I hit the streets of the Vieille Ville, Nice’s old town. It’s Friday night and most won’t be out until much later but this will give me an opportunity to have a Ricard, and then a pizza with a bouteille de Côtes du Rhône before it gets too bustling with extremely hot European couples on holiday. 

The old town is a labyrinth. And, it's easy to get lost. But, it pulls you in and each turn, especially at night, can overwhelm you with intense color, architecture, history, food, the scent of a welcome French cigarette, and fabulous footwear that defies all practicality, thank you very much. It hurts to be beautiful!!  

But, my evening is over. And, in the morning I take the ferry to Corsica. In the rain. 6 hours of what is likely to be a "bumpy ride." I consciously left my 3-year-old unopened bottle of Dramamine in my travel case before I left Berkeley not realizing that I really might need it. If it gets really bad there are several bars on the ship. Dramatini's anyone??

See you in Corsica! 

XOXO

Pardon, but that pain au chocolate wasn't cheap, Freeloader!!

Oh.

And, say "Bonjour" to my little friend, Jean-Baptiste.

He's a gift from one of the gallery's artists, Theresa Lipton. 

When someone gives you a Voodoo Doll you take it on holiday.

In this case, he is my traveling partner (not that I really wanted one). And, I didn't think it would be safe to leave him alone with the Evil Kitten Twins, Boris and Dante.  

I am told, they have already ripped open my vacu-packed clothing from the salvage of the Blackwater Incident. 

Kittehs Mauvaise!!