Nice and Easy (Nice and Èze)

I can now say I've been to the South of France. With my culinary semester in Paris finally wrapping up, I decided to be brave and take a real trip. I say brave because it's one thing to pack up and install yourself in a city to attend school, live with a family, and establish a long term routine- it's a very different sensation to book yourself a room in a bed-and-breakfast in a city you've never seen, and pack your backpack and set off with no real plan (and no travel buddy).

I woke up at 3am, threw on a sweater and slung my backpack over my shoulder. This was the era before Paris finished their metro line 14 to Orly airport, so I ordered an Uber to pick me up in advance. Even with the Uber, my trip was still super affordable. The airplane was teeny compared to all the jets I've been taking for the long-hauls LA to NYC or Paris, but that didn't even matter because I immediately fell asleep. Next thing I knew, I was waking up with a view of the Mediterranean Sea bordered by palm trees with snow capped mountains on the horizon.

First order of business was to get from the airport to the city. I learned very quickly how to use the tram running between the two, because the alternative was to wait with some very grumpy tourist families that were having some serious debates about public transportation in languages I didn't understand.

Once in the heart of Nice I realized I still had several hours to spend until I could check into my bed and breakfast (local, cuter and cheaper than an airbnb), so what does Lillian decide to do? Finding herself in an unfamiliar city, she decides to go to church. Literally. I decided since it was Palm Sunday and I needed something to do, I would go to Sunday mass because that would suck up at least an hour and I would get to practice my French listening skills (practical reasons aside, I would have gone anyway because most of the time I am a responsible Catholic adult).

Things I learned: France uses boxwoods for Palm Sunday (guys, this is the south of France, the palm foliage is literally outnumbering the rest), and you have to pay the church ladies to get your branch-prop. Where I'm from, the palms are abundant and free. I picked a leafy twig up off the ground because I didn't know about the tax, and went inside.

Mass was fun, I didn't understand most of it but the people were friendly and we got to wave our leaves around a lot.

After mass, feeling blessed and hungry, I tucked my leafy twig into my backpack and went to McDonald's for some nuggets and a bathroom. Uncreative, I know, but I was alone in a new city and necessity beat out Instagram.

With a better plan in mind, I went exploring.

Most of my time in Nice was spent wandering through the streets of the old town. The city is obviously much bigger than that but I found this more manageable for solo-me and it was interesting to look at.

I found an outdoor market selling all kinds of little regional specialties, like lavender sachets and local soap. I stocked up on a few bags of lavender since they're super handy to keep in clothes drawers, make for good gifts, and hardly take up any space (my cheap-o plane ticket didn't account for any souvenirs I couldn't shove into my backpack). Sticking to my tradition of collecting local art, I also picked up a small watercolor print of the Promenade des Anglais, the classic beachfront stretch of the city so popular in photos.

I soent the afternoon leaving no stone unturned and wandered aimlessly into every possible shop that looked even remotely interesting and unique. This resulted in a couple more souvenirs, most notably a linen apron probably more suited for gardening than cooking but the material was such a high quality I couldn't resist. She had them in so many colors too, although these aprons were only scratching the surface of linen goods available in her tiny store. If I wasn't restricted by luggage space, I'd have done a lot more damage to my wallet.

Here is a photo I took once back in the States. Its got a giant pocket in the front, and the back is two giant linen straps that cross over your shoulder blades for a loose, slip-on effect.

Headed back in the direction of my bed & breakfast, not located in the Old Town, I poked my head into a few churches on the way. I particularly loved the very cool palm-tunnel that some of them were sporting in honor of the feast day. I feel like we could step up our game in Los Angeles since we have a comparable amount of palm trees to Nice.

Tried to show off my outfit in the quiet neighborhood near my place, but got nervous because there were people around. Arrived in Nice with one pair of shoes (shoutout to Repetto for never giving me a blister, I really said a Hail Mary and crossed my fingers on that decision), one white button down, a sweater, a dress for tomorrow, and a change of undergarments. I think I abandoned the swimsuit idea before leaving Paris due to the chilly forecast. The rest of my backpack was a toothbrush, toothpaste, tiny sunscreen, face wash, shampoo, conditioner, mascara, lip gloss, a comb, and a smaller backpack for daytime.

I now have a masters degree in packing light.

You guys. LOOK at my room. I was only staying for one night but I could have easily moved in. The lady was surprised to hear it was just me, since she gave me the biggest room (the others were taken) and I got the biggest bathroom (down the hall, not attached to my room unfortunately). Quel luxe!

Feeling refreshed, I left my bag in my room and took myself for dinner and a stroll. I also decided this was the perfect opportunity to test my new scarf (came in handy, surprisingly warm).

I have by no means cracked the code for solo-travel, but I did figure out that you can always ask another solo-traveling girl or girly-duo taking a selfie if they will take your photo in exchange for you taking theirs. 11/10 works every time. Look how good these photos are! The sunset did all of the heavy lifting anyway.

I went to a restaurant called Le Romarin for dinner, located right next to a big church. They let me sit outside on the terrace. Me, a solo-diner, next to a group of about 30 German high school students on a school trip. It was a lively terrace. My server recommended this meat ravioli dish, claiming it was local to the region. It was very good.

Sitting next to the church was cool (literally next to the church, I could have sneezed on the wall and left my DNA behind for archaeologists to discover) because eventually the church bells rung the hour and deafened all of us.

When dinner was over, I wasn't ready to go home yet so I typed "dessert" into my phone and was suggested Movida. I walked through the Old Town to this bar with a view of the beach, and ordered a Nutella French toast and a virgin mojito (I had wine with dinner and wanted to keep my wits about me for a walk home in an unfamiliar city).

Full of sugar and good food, I walked myself home along the Promenade, crawled into my big squashy princess bed and fell asleep.

Not one to miss out on anything ever, I got up early on Monday with big plans. I took a photo of my new dress by propping up my phone on the stairs and standing outside the door to the Bed & Breakfast apartment.

I then went to a cafe I had seen yesterday that was open early and served tea and croissants. Being the American I am, I took my breakfast to go. The French can't compute. This, however, allowed me to eat my croissant with a view, so who's actually winning here?

I had to check out of my room pretty early, but the nice host lady let me store my backpack under the kitchen table while I continued adventuring around.

I grabbed a sweater and (at the last-minute recommendation of an instagram friend that I met on a weekend trip during my original Parisian study abroad many, many years before) I deciphered enough of the the local bus system to get me up a teeny mountain road and deposited at the base of a crumbly, medieval village stacked precariously on top of said mountain: Èze (the first E is pronounced like in "egg" and the second E is silent). Ehzz.

There wasn't too much to do except get lost on purpose. It's hard to do any damage since there's only half a dozen paths and they all eventually lead back to the same place. It does look like something out of a movie though. I found another local artist and got a small painting of his depicting Èze perched on top of its hill. He seemed surprised to learn I was visiting from California, but pleased to hear his art would make it all the way to the other side of the world.

I traded a photo-op with a nice couple that didn't speak English, but the girl definitely knew how to get some angles. Glad I brought my sweater because it was a very cold and unrelenting breeze that passed through all the little alleys on top of this rock.

Near the bus stop outside the gates of Èze are two very old, competing fragrance companies with very different marketing styles and scents. I didn't purchase anything because none of it would have been allowed on the plane (nor did I have any more space after my little shopping spree in Nice), but one of them had a mini museum that I explored while waiting for the bus.

I somehow had a bus to myself on the way back.

And arrived back in Nice with time before my flight, so I went on a walk looking for this waterfall:

and didn't find it.

I did however get my 10,000 steps in, and found these ruins on top of the hill.

Stopped to prop my phone up on a rock and take a photo on this cool terrace.

And saw the classic view of Nice. It also looked like it was going to rain, so I decided to cut my hike short.

I made one last stop on my way down the hill, just to look. The basket-weaver himself was busy weaving away and didn't pay me any attention. The smell of the baskets and basket-material was overwhelming as soon as you step in the door.

And I opted to eat a pizza in the airport because I couldn't find a quick restaurant on my way there. The pizza was really good and the service was great, very friendly and knew I had to make a flight. The restaurant was situated on a balcony-tier above one of the main concourses, so I had a good view of people running around down below.

The flight back was nothing to write home about, so I won't bore you with details that I don't even remember.

To put into some perspective though, if this was March 24-25 and I left France on March 30, then we're wrapping up this adventure and almost ready to move on to the next!