Weekend get-away, get away

Well, this past weekend I went to the Côte d'Azur with the other Georgetown students studying in Strasbourg. On Friday night we took a sleeper train to Nice; each room was stuffed with six couchettes. For me, there's something so romantic about trains -- even the overpriced, poorly run Amtrak trains captivate me. Even the six cramped couchettes -- overheated (at least until our window was stuck open and we froze to death), with no privacy or even any security -- were enthralling. Scenery rolled past, with often stops marking a slow progress. The train lulled me to sleep, although the bed was hard and there were strangers in the room; and when I awoke on Saturday, it was the next morning -- in Nice.

We spent the day in Nice, which started off well enough but ended by being disappointingly drizzly for the afternoon. I found le marché aux fleurs where I stumbled across with my family over seven years ago during our brief foray to the South of France, and where Cary Grant shook off some policemen trailing him in To Catch a Thief (I actually spent a lot of time on this trip thinking of that movie). Afterwards, I made my way to the waterfront, and I found the same lookout I used to observe the city in 2000. I sat at a crêperie and had an overpriced nutella and banana crêpe and hot tea; I read and watched passersby and was attacked by a yellow jacket intent on my inappropriate midday meal.

I then went to the Musée d'Art Contemporain, hoping to escape the increasing chill of the afternoon, and pretending to be cultured as you know I tend to do. Afterwards, I browsed some shops, and ran into some of the students who had gone to the beach earlier that morning. I followed them to an English bar for cocktails to console us as the drizzle had begun to dampen the streets of Nice. After a dinner with the group, we returned to the bar, and I and two others engaged in conversation with some Germans who told me -- among other things -- that the only languages anyone ever need learn are English and German. I told them my two German phrases, and they taught me a curse word. Why do I always end up talking with Germans? I also later got in a fight with a bush after visiting a late-night crêperie (yes, I have an addiction), but that is a story for another time.

On Sunday we spent the day driving to Monaco, Eze and Cannes along the Mediterranean. To me, the small old city and palace that we visited in Monaco (we later drove through Monte Carlo) were cardboard cut-outs of real places, a Disneyworld attraction, only less fun because Disneyworld is grand really (in fact, I'm spending the New Year there with my family). Nothing seemed unique; every store was a tourist souvenir shoppe; the only scenes that inspired in me the desire to stand and admire or photograph were the beautiful cliffs rising sharply above the bright blue of the sea. Eze was a medieval city -- of the old, walled types, with doors that make you wonder if people could really fit through them, once. And in Cannes I kept myself to the main street along the beach, and a market of local artwork and crafts. The only stores were designer stores; the only emblem of the city was the film festival that one is reminded of every ten paces.

So overall, despite a scenic view of breathtaking sea, mountains and cliffs, the Côte d'Azur mostly... lacks character, as I suppose most places driven by tourists are, by default. It was lovely for the weekend, but I was happy to return to the 'bourg after it all; I arrived this morning via another overnight train, with time for a shower before my only class of the day.

I trust that you are all well -- I suppose Eleanor is soon in England, if not already. And Shelly, begin checking your mailbox for something exciting.

xx bisous,
Alison