The second day, we explored Cannes. It was a low-key day, much like Cannes itself. We walked along the water, dipped our toes into the Mediterranean, and watched preparations for the film festival. We could easily imagine the stately hotels and sandy beach providing the ritzy backdrop for the upcoming festival.
Our final day at the Côte d’Azur was reserved for Nice. The tour book said Nice was “brash and bold and in your face” so we had low expectations. In reality, we were really pleased. The waterfront was breathtaking, there was a funky open market, the old town a nice surprise, as was the local entertainment, or local color, if you will.
We ate our lunch on the boardwalk and were entertained by a rollerblading woman with unashamed rhythm. She was totally ’80s with her walkman and wristbands—and, like the Madonna song, she chose to “express” herself. She had all the moves, sort of a cross between old-school roller-skating and ice-skating. She turned heads as she made her way up and down the coast.
Then, there was the man who took your money to pee. Often in France, you pay to use public restrooms. The attendants keep the place tidy and offer you your ration of toilet paper. This attendant was a true find though: wearing a red Speedo and a tan that was more than skin-deep, he had a soap opera blaring and his beach chair strategically propped so he could survey the beach and boardwalk entrances simultaneously. There is something odd about accepting toilet paper from a man who is barely dressed. He took his TP responsibilities—and tanning—seriously.
We hated to leave Èze the following morning, as it was such a gracious hostess. We took one last wistful glance and set out for the open road and the promises of fresh cappuccino. The Mediterranean air and sun was just the salve for a grey winter and Èze was the perfect base camp to soak it all in. And, for the record, there is a jardin exotique in Èze as well … and it’s just as illusive!
