a new day

It's incredible what a good, no, great night's sleep will do to you! Snowdrop woke up refreshed and ready for anything. I woke up relieved and relaxed. Must be the sea air!

As predicted, it is drizzly out there. We could not care less! Everything is grand.

Including breakfast. A buffet with nothing but good choices. Snowdrop loves the madelines...

 

... and the eggs, the croissant, the potato pancakes, the oranges, the hot chocolate. All of it. 

I'm happy with my fruits, yogurts, pain au chocolat, cappuccino. (She stole my eggs -- I would have been happy with those as well.)

In the moments of waiting in between one thing and the next, the girl makes videos on my phone. Titled photo montages of our dogs, put to music. In searching for appropriate songs for each pup, she says with surprise -- gaga, did you know there's a song called Sexy Sadie? Don't I know it! A Beatles classic from 1968. I thought of it the minute I first learned Sadey's name. Of course I avoided that descriptor like anything! Not something you want to flaunt with the grandkids, especially the young ones. I could see Sandpiper telling his classmates that his grandmother had a sexy sadie at her house.

Still, as you listen to the words now, and look at Sadey's poor guilt ridden face, you have to feel a tinge of wistful sadness. This dog who, at a young age, has carried litters of puppies, born not out of love but of a male dog's sex drive, then proceeds to mess up her life, out of a need to protect herself and the life that suddenly became so good... Here, remind yourself of the words...

Sexy Sadie, what have you done?
You made a fool of everyone
You made a fool of everyone
Sexy Sadie, what have you done?

Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules
You laid it down for all to see
You laid it down for all to see
Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules

...

Just a smile would lighten everything
Sexy Sadie, you're the latest of them all

We gave her everything we owned just to sit at her table
Just a smile would lighten everything
Sexy Sadie, she's the latest and the greatest of them all

 

 

In our room again, we go through the possibilities for the day. Snowdrop doesn't mind the rain. She'd like to start with the market. It's a 20 minute stroll from our hotel along this most lovely seaside promenade.

 

 

Nice's market is compact and wonderful. In the summer it draws crowds of tourists -- never a good thing for vendors who prefer locals who actually will buy a kilo of produce rather than a few pieces of fruit to snack on. Now, on a rainy Sunday, you do in fact see more buyers than just window shoppers like us.  What I loved? The produce of course. Fruits, in season now in southern France, Spain and Italy. Flowers. And veggies -- local carrots that make your eyes blaze and everywhere that Nicois specialty -- the zucchini flower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 (oranges and lemons from Menton -- up the coast about 30 miles from Nice)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We actually do buy something -- nougat candies, which she loves, and a basket of strawberries. French. And so very tasty (she ate every last one in the hotel room).

 

 

Since we are so close to the old port, I suggest we walk there to take a look.

 

(past this sign...)

 

 

 

 

(the old port)

 

 

 

 

(only mildly interested in the port -- she prefers the sweeping coastal views; Nice chairs remind me of UW Memorial Union chairs)

 

(she never passes up a merry-go-round ride)

 

(what's blooming in Nice...)

 

 

 

 

And now Snowdrop is ready for her ice cream -- her favorite, found in Paris, but now also in Chicago. We saw the shop yesterday and think we remember where it is. Turns out we're wrong. Google directs us to its old location (now closed), so we are wrong again. Finally, after going around in wet circles, we track it down. What a total delight for her, to eat this for lunch! (I settle for a coffee and and an ice cream macaron...)

 

 

We're kind of in a hurry now. It's 1:15 and I promised her that this bad weather day gives us a perfect opportunity to try out the hotel pool. It's not much of one -- more like an oversized bathtub -- and they limit kid access to morning hours and then from noon to 2. We sprint and make it in time for her to get a good half hour in.

 

 

Walking, sprinting, swimming (her, not me!) -- we're ready for some downtime. She FaceTimes with her friend, I read and write.  But by late afternoon, I feel we should eat something that some might call lunch. True, we had a big breakfast. Brunch-like in quality and quantity. Still, it was seven hours ago. I propose crepes. It seems filling enough to tide us for a couple of hours, yet not so filling that we could not eat a full dinner at 7.

 

I find L'Oiseau -- just 6 minutes from us. A small creperie, run by Corsicans, with Corsican products. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's an important element in Nicois culture. Corsica is an 8 hour ferry ride from Nice (350 kms south-east) and some would say that it properly should be Italian since the island is only 8 miles by water (less than an hour by ferry) from the coast of Sardinia -- a fully Italian territory. But in fact, Corsicans (or Corses in French) have traveled in great numbers to France and especially to Nice over hundreds of years, so their presence here is notable, even as the island itself bears the influence of Italy and the Corsican culture reflects the Italian rather than French temperament and preferences (pizza and gelato everywhere!). Nice has picked up some of that, though here it's hard to say from which side the Italian influence has seeped in, since the Italian border is only 20 miles away by car or train. 

 

(Nutella for her, apple and cinnamon for me. I know, I know -- all sweet. We're on vacation!)

 

 

I'm actually surprised how few tourists we see. Maybe it's the weather and they're all hiding. But even in eateries, we hear French almost exclusively. 

 

 

 

We then walk over to the Russian Orthodox St. Nicholas Cathedral -- the one I wrote about yesterday. Yes, the one that is legally Russian, on Russian territory, a fact that does give you pause. But in fact, the Russian community here remains sizable. We pass a Russian grocery store. We hear Russian as we approach the church. And we are going for its historic and artistic value. I last visited Russia when it was completely under Putin's thumb. St Petersburg was not his though, and neither is this cathedral.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(she meets and greets a cat, while the Russian men engage in an animated conversation, none of which I could hear -- maybe fortunately)

 

A very brief rest follows, and then for the third time today, we set out -- to eat dinner at Chez Davia. The upside? Undoubtedly its food. We start off with beans in a light tempura for her and young artichokes in a clam broth for me (though she snatched one of mine). Finished in a matter of minutes!

 

 

I suggested sole meuniere for her second course -- a pricey dish usually, but almost reasonable here. I settled for the omelette with wild asparagus. Both incredibly good (though she said that in general, she preferred sea bass, which is a heck of a lot less expensive and a more common choice here).

 

The downside? I suppose the restaurant's popularity: one of those places that is packed and everyone sits intimately close to everyone else. 

 

We skipped dessert there. She picked up an ice cream cone on the way home. I have plenty of hotel chocolates to keep me happy!

 

 

Such s full and wonderful day! Such a fun and wonderful travel companion!

 

with so much love...