The train ride to Nice, France was short a sweet. An intercity train, they call it, it comes every half hour and you just hop on and go. 20 mins later and here we were. Nice, being on the mediterrain coast like Monte Carlo, has alot of the same feel. Minus the hurrendous amount of money. At the train station we stand at the front doors and take in our first impressions. It is what we always do, stand in front of the train station doors and take it in. Once situated we started on our way to the Hostel Paradis. Only a ten minute walk from the train station! Not. Alas, hostel descriptons can be deceiving.
However, twenty minutes later we were standing in a piazza...not sure what they are called in French. A lovely place filled with music, resturants, vendors, and even a couple fortune tellers. Being back in France, and not in Paris...you apperciate french culture more. The people here are truly beautiful and elegant. I've seen a woman who can carry bags of grocies in stillettos and still look like shes walking on air. The language is also beautiful. Super jealous of Christie and her ability to speak the language. Now, dont get me wrong...the french are still rude. Its just the way they are. They are impatient with you when you order, they insult that your intelligence, and sometimes look at you like your wearing something a hobo would wear. But, if you close your eyes and dont look at their faces....just listen to the speak...its beautiful. Everything sounds like soothing music. Im putting learning french on my bucket list.
Anyways, Just from this piazza, was our hostel. The location was OK, we were situated beside Louis Vutton and across from Hugo Boss. But no Channel so clearly we were in the wrong part of town. However, when it came to our room we lucked out once again. Private room, private bathroom, and an elevator. These are things to get excited about when youve been backpacking for a month. After a shower, this one rated a solid 8.5, we headed out for dinner.
How we chose dinner is always a chore. In Europe, you have to work for your food. First, you have to walk anywhere from 5 to 15 min to find places to eat, then you have to check all the prices to make sure its affordable, then we all have to decide between the three of us what we want to eat. Hence, after lunch we usually start thinking and scouting out our supper. We found this nice resturant and claimed a spot on the patio. Ideal for people watching.
We all got something a little nicer for we hadnt spent much money that day. I got the mussels and they were delicious. After stef and christies usual gellato dessert we headed back to the hostel. We had heard about a pub crawl that night which met just down the way from our hostel. We got ready and off we went. We were there, at the right time, in the right place, however no one else was there. Disappointed but not willing to waste the effort made to get ready, we went to a pub on the cornor.
The pub was similar to an Irish pub but the live music was to Jamacian guys playing a sort of reggae. It was awesome. Sitting and enjoying our beers, an older man appoarched us and asked to take a seat. Seeing no harm in the offer we allowed him to join. He asked the usual questions...where are you from, why are you here, what have you seen. But what was really cool is that he took one look at stef and knew instantly she was of Icelandic desent. He was also right with Christie guessing German. Me? I got spainish....then itilian. He never got me right. He was German and after entertaining him for awhile we asked him what brought him to Nice. He stops, gets this weird look in his eye and says "You do not want to know." Remeber that feeling I was explaining in an earlier blog post? Always trust it. We made some shitty excuse and got out of there.
After awhile we realized that downstairs was a nightclub. It was a cave like atmosphere and not very big. However, the beats were pumping! So we danced the night away and got a kebab. A tried and true evening indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment