A Nice way to welcome the New Year

 Currently cringing at the music video show in my Barcelona hostel- hugely bad for the most part- just in case you doubt me, it is currently playing Cher's Do You Believe in Life After Love? I have discovered in the past day that for all people say about Italians being the Europeans who are least likely to speak English (which is profoundly false in Venice- most of the Venetians speak at least a little English), to my belief it is the people of Barcelona. As I've forgotten practically all of my primary school Spanish and they mainly speak Catalan in any case, it's been a fun couple of days. More next time on why I almost didn't get to Barcelona but first back to my time in Nice

Flowers at the Nice Flower Market

After my last experience with France (see my blogpost on my time in Zürich for more info), I was a bit cautious about returning there. Thankfully though one Italian train (from Venice to Milan) was super slow and late, I managed to get to Nice without a hitch. I do love that the French refuse to do train announcements in English- regardless what countries you are travelling between the other countries do as well as the language of the country you left and the one you are going to. It is a bit hit and miss figuring out the announcements after the train left Italy as I speak neither French nor Italian. I did have a bit of help for a guy from Ghana who insisted on giving me his phone number and email address on the train despite my obvious lack of interest and my clearly not liking the very forward nature of his questions (I'm sorry but asking someone you just met how old they are and how much they earn isn't going to win you any points especially if the person in question isn't interested in the first place). Having successfully got to Nice, I was debating following the hostel's instructions of getting a left in their shuttle after catching the tram or whether to walk. Walk I did but thankfully the hostel van recognised me as a being bound there and picked me up JUST before I turned onto the street which was one massive steep hill. Villa Saint Exupery in Nice is without comparison the best hostel I've ever stayed in (Barcelona ain't going to bet it and Lisbon and Paris will have to work hard to do so). It is housed in an old monastery right up in the hill part of Nice (this would be a negative but the trams from centre of town run every 5 minutes and the shuttle from the tram stop to hostel runs from 7-10am and 5pm-12am as well as by special arrangement if you call them). None of the staff that I met were French which a little odd but they were very friendly and I'd go as far as to say that along with being the best hostel, it has the best hostel staff I've ever encountered. The biggest highlights has to be the cheapness and quality of the food and drinks on offer. The drinks were astounding cheap and between 6pm and 8pm you could get a cocktail for 3.50 Euros. The chef is Australian but cooks French food like a wiz. The food could easily have been served at an insanely pricey French restaurant for over 25 Euros but was instead 6.50 and served in massive quantities- this was mainly the menu of the day which was duck a l'orange on my first night and a rabbit dish on my second night- I ate neither of these (instead chowing down on massive vego pizzas for the same cost) but there looked really good. The chef outdid himself with New Year's dinner- more on that later- and also had supposedly cooked a five course meal for Christmas Eve. What with the good food, cheap drinks and friendly staff, the atmosphere in the place was also exceedingly positive and most of the people staying there caught the attitude of the staff- I spent my first night in the hostel playing cards with a couple of other Aussies, a couple of Canadians, three Americans and a Kiwi, and I could never have imagined this happening in any other hostel I've stayed at- this was possibly helped by the cheapness of the drinks and the location of the hostel which meant people didn't head into town (where drinks were 8 Euros a pop) until later. If you ever find yourself in Nice, STAY there!

Now to the real question, I know you're all asking mentally. Why the South of France? What draw does Nice have? Did you just feel the urge to act rich and snobby? Not becoming a grubby capitalist quite yet, I headed to Nice because the place I actually wanted to go is snobbier and richer and has no youth hostels. If you asked for a time or a year, I couldn't tell you but ever since I first saw High Society I have wanted to be Grace Kelly- not likely to happen but a girl can dream right? She just had the most amazing style- and I don't mean just her clothes which are gorgeous in most of her films- and was clearly so talented but the more I found out about the royal family in Monaco, the less I've been able to understand why she would marry into it. So for quite a while I've wanted to visit Monaco and see what deal might have been, and also after seeing another of her films I was convinced that the south of France is where you go to find insanely handsome cat burglars to marry (sadly Cary Grant (or his 21st century look alike) was nowhere to be found). No hostels or cheap hotels being on offer (the cabs in Monaco are all Mercedes and BMWs so if they had a hostel it would be bizarre); I opted to stay in the nearest town that did i.e. Nice. Nice is about 40 mins from Monaco by bus which is only a euro - the public transport in Nice is astoundingly cheap- or 25 min by train (I used the train as I had a trip left on my Eurail ticket that I needed to use but I would recommend the bus as it is much cheaper and scenery doesn't wiz past quite as much). Monaco, as it turns out, is an amazing beautiful place especially as it was a lovely day when I was there. The climate is not too dissimilar at an Australian climate in winter if a little colder (this actually goes for Nice as well) and I settled down and tried to look French (don't laugh I have been mistaken for a French person on about 10 occasions on this trip) as I ate my Nicoise salad and crepe for lunch. I then did what everyone does in Monte Carlo and went to the casino. Sadly James Bond wasn't there in either his Sean Connery or Daniel Craig incarnations. The casinos have mastered the act of stealing your money so the slot machine do not take coins only notes, cards or casino tickets and it costs 10 euro to even enter the room with the gaming tables in it at the Monte Carlo casino. Too scared to go anywhere near the tables (especially after seeing the army of luxury and sports cars parked out the front of the casino- four Ferraris, two Astons, a couple of Rolls and a Merc that I can remember but there were more), I let the slot machine steal 10 euro of my money and ran away. Monte Carlo (and as I discovered the next day, also Nice) loves the idea of Christmas Markets as much as I do so I got more Christmas market time in before returning to Nice. Returning to Nice, I thought if it was just of the beauty of the place and the getting to be a Princess, I can start to understand why Grace Kelly did it.

Monaco harbour- note the yachts...so many yachts.

The next day, I had a whole day to fill in Nice...what to do? I had heard people talking about the flower markets and how beautiful they are so I thought maybe I'll check them out. Definitely worth the visit if you are in Nice (they run every day except Monday from early in the morning- on Monday there is flea market in the same spot) though I'd say get there earlier than I did (11am) as it is very crowded and I'm sure the best flowers and produce go to the early birds. After that I headed up Chateau Hill to get a good view of the city and found the cemetery that is on the other side of the hill which not only has great views but also the cutest little chapel (from the outside I didn't go in). I wandered back down the hill through the Old Town and I wished that I had taken the chance to go on a walking tour of it but I didn't have the time. After a very French lunch of fried camembert with red fruit sauce, I wander up the beach in search of museums to entertain me. I located the Musée Masséna which partially a restored old house and partially a museum about Nice and the Masséna family. The girl on the ticket desk at this museum was a bit odd- that there was a ticket desk was odd in itself as admission is free (as it is at all museums in Nice). I was feeling up to attempting some French and so I walked up to the ticket desk held up one finger and said "Un billet, s'il vous plaît", girl holds up two fingers and says "Deux?", in response I hold up one finger again and say very firmly "Un". Not sure how that was misinterpreted as un and duex are quite different words even when you mangle French like I do but the French seem it find it bizarre that anyone does things on their own so that might be why. Back through some Christmas markets and after a crepe, I was off to hostel for New Years dinner. For the cost of 18 Euros, dinner included a glass of sangria (two in my case as two of us scammed a second glass before the bar staff were told that people were limited to one), bottles of wine on every table, and then four courses of food. I had one of my very rare meat eating nights as I didn't want to create more work for the chef who had cooked four courses for 200 people at the two hostels run by the same people in Nice (there is a second one in the centre of town) and chowed down on the four courses- Entree of potato and leek soup, main of French Provencal beef dish (read with lots of onions and mushrooms and wine here) accompanied by a massive load of mashed potato and carrots, dessert was a lemon tart and that was followed by a French cheese plate. The restaurants in the city were charging between 50 and 100 euro for their New Years meal so I think we scored. The people then suddenly all started to clear out and we were left thinking midnight is almost here what to do. The decision was head beachward of fireworks and so six of us- me, two other Aussies, a Kiwi (who was hoarding some fireworks he'd picked up in Italy) and two Norwegians- set off down the hill, having to walk/jog half the way as the trams weren't running down hill. We made it to the beach just in time for midnight and I got the fun of getting to use fireworks (only minor ones and legally I feel I must add) for the first time ever. Turning to head to the hostel, we found the trams now weren't running up hill (they'd started going downhill again) so we had the fun of a 45 minute walk up to the shuttle pick up spot- thankfully the bottom part of the hill isn't remotely steep. Finally off to back at 2.30, I was not looking forward to having to catch the train the next morning but at least I felt I'd celebrated the New Year.

People setting off Roman Candles on Nice Beach

So belated Happy New Year people of blog land and I'll be back soon with my words on Barcelona.