You forget that when in Nice you are actually in Provence. (Nice is part of the Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur region of France.) I suppose a light bulb flashes if you enter souvenir shops where lavender goods abound. But honestly, Nice is more about the sea than about lavender fields. Palm trees rather than olive groves and Mediterranean forests. It would be a shame to be here and not venture a little deeper into the hills that gently (and not so gently!) descend into the city. We need to explore a little off coast. In picking a hill town to visit, I was of course going to pay attention to distance and ease of transportation. I thought Eze, with its Medieval fortifications and structures might fit the bill: just a 15 minute train ride toward Monaco and Italy, it's easy to get to. At least to get to the station of Eze. From there you have to either drive or hike up the hill to the old town. Good enough!
And it is one beautiful sunny day again. Perfect for an outing.
Breakfast first.
A digestive pause, and then we walk to the train station.
(it gives me great joy to see so many very old people with dogs here)
(do note the attire of the woman above and of Snowdrop below)
I tell her to consider taking a jacket. If it's to be a high of 61F/16C in Eze, the climb up may be breezy. She listens indulgently, skips the long pants, forgoes the jacket. Me, I take mine. And let me say straight away that she was right and I was so wrong. I wore my jacket only the last 5 minutes of our day-long trip. In the remaining hours, I sweated, even though we both had short sleeves.
Here's the thing about Eze: I'd never been there. A bit surprising, considering how much time I've spent on the coast here, but really, there are so many interesting towns that beg for a visit that somehow I passed this one by. In my pretrip research though, it seemed perfect. Even the walk up to the cliff-top village from the train station (estimated to take 1 hour) seemed like a clever idea for an outing with an 11 year old. (I forgot about the part where she is accompanied by an almost 73-year old.)
Trains to Eze are frequent. It's one of the stops en route to the much visited Monaco. I would guess that in the high season the trip can be crowded and unpleasant. But today? Perfection itself. Few people, gorgeous weather.
(oh, but would my farmette bougainvillea grow this dense with flowers!)
You dont have to do the one hour trek up to the old village. A bus can zip you up in no time, and indeed, very few people climb up. Some take the bus up and do the walk down. An entirely reasonable approach. But I'd read somewhere online the account of a woman with reasonably young kids doing the hike. I think now that she was showing off.
Looking up, I knew this would be a challenge. And it was.
The views were splendid! The vegetation -- lovely. But the climb up was steep, rocky and never-ending.
(not even a tenth of the way up yet...)
The air was still, the sun seemed hot. I'd taken only one small bottle of water which we had to ration for the duration. My walking shoes were much too slick for stones that were worn down to a smooth surface. I didn't have my poles. So, not the best prep for this kind of a hike! The girl cheered me on -- come on, gogs! you can do this! I wistfully thought back to my last mountain hike with her nearly 4 years ago, near Lago d'Orta: she was 7 then and unsure of herself. Now? Well, let's just say she had to pause a bunch to allow me to catch up.
But, ah the satisfaction of reaching the top! Of finding a booth with cold water for sale! Of doing it all on this most beautiful day!
It was nearly 1 p.m. and we were both hungry. I'd not done a lot of reading about this village, but I knew they had gardens worth visiting and views that would leave you gasping. But first, lunch -- which had us walking around the narrow streets in search of a place to sit down and find comfort in food.
We were lucky: we came across Le Nid d'Aigle (the Eagle's Nest), with its outdoor tables stuck in various available corners of a widening cobbled street. She ordered fish and fries, I ordered a mushroom omelette. I added to it a "mimosa prosecco," just because the occasion called for it.
I dont know how to describe that feeling of pure contentment that comes after an exertion, when you are finally resting, awaiting food, when the sun dapples you with its warmth, when your hiking companion is pleased as punch with our accomplishments. I heard words from her like chill and boss, but I do not think that they do this justice. It was one of those perfect moments. One to remember.
From there, it was a short stroll (up, of course) to the lookout point and to the Jardins Exotiques.
And what gardens they were! Cacti, blooming. Succulents, and flowers that seemed artificial in their neon brightness.
And the views! Oh, the views! Down toward Cap Ferrat, toward Nice airport and beyond, but more importantly, toward those azure waters of the Mediterranean. Calm, smiling almost, with that self satisfied air of realizing its own beauty.
I no longer buy souvenirs from my trips. What for, when I often dont remember where they came from or what prompted me to buy the item. Carting back more stuff is the last thing I want to do. And yet, here in Eze, I succumbed. It was a small shop with some dishes and ceramics by Gien. I often visit the Gien shop in Paris, just to admire its beautiful china, but I'd never seen the stuff I am now seeing up here in Eze. Including tiny serving plates portraying the colors and flowers of Nice, of Eze. This trip was important. It deserved a few items, including yes, a mini pillow for the couch! (Me and my pillows!)
Madame at the store was ever so helpful as I asked her about one item or another, comparing, considering each beautiful piece. As she packed away my two items, she asked -- are you a professor of French? It was the greatest compliment that I'd ever received for my conversations here! Just for that, I threw in another small pillow! It's worth it, all of it! The travel back with two plates and two pillows. The very exhausting flights to get here. The years of trying to improve my French skills. The hike up, for this moment in the store, where the shop keeper makes me feel like I'd arrived at some point of affirmation. I can do this: climb mountains, travel with my grandchild, speak French. And feel so grateful for it all.
I ask Snowdrop if she wants to take the bus down. She doesn't! She wants to hike! Well, my smooth shoes aren't going to make this easy, but then, why go for the easy when a challenge can give you so many rewards!
(almost there!)
We take the train back to Nice.
And dinner tonight? After not liking my choice for last night, I decided to scratch off my idea for tonight. Some reviewers had liked it, but now I see many reviews are not so hot. I'm not wanting another meh dish of food. I turn to the hotel for help and they point me to the Nespo.
It's more expensive than my own selections, so there's that. Or maybe it's that we both ordered appetizers and main courses so it seemed that way. But I have to say, the hotel was spot on: the menu had what is a Nice favorite: fried zucchini flowers. Of course we both wanted that! Chomped down in a flash!
Then her favorite fish (sea bass), nicely filleted, with baby tomatoes, olives, and shrads of artichoke. We shared broccolini and she added fries to her meal.
All absolutely excellent. Not a drop of food left on either plate.
We don't order desserts at dinnertime. Saves money and time and besides, nothing makes her happier than a walk over to Amorino's for their ice cream.
I've had so much solo travel in my life! Much of it was great, wonderful, memorable. Some -- well, perhaps less so. In thinking back to this day, to this trip actually, I have to admit that not much of it would have been great, wonderful, memorable without the enthusiastic, cheerful presence of Snowdrop. There are some adventures that just beg to be shared. Zucchini flowers that wont be enjoyed alone. Hikes up a mountain that are hard to delight in when no one cares if you make it to the top. It remains the case that I love nearly all the trips I've taken, because loneliness can have its comforting glow as well. You are with yourself. You observe, rather than participate in the tumult around you. This can be quite rewarding. Pleasant even. But today? It was made good by the two of us scrambling up that rocky incline. All those steps, one in front of the other.
with so much love...
