I haven’t written in so long! I hate when I don’t write after eventful days because I’m afraid that I will forget and miss details! However I’ve been busy doing different things for the past week and by the end of the day I was always tired and just plain lazy to sit down and write. I did start to write some bits and pieces and saved them, so you will read some of them here today. My aunt spoke to my mother on the phone yesterday and she told me that she was wondering what was going on with my posts… so here I am writing… be prepared for a long one…
Is it just me or is culture almost entirely linked with food? As you can see below, my writings have included many a description of food: food I made, food my sister made, food we bought…food food food. I love food. I love how food looks, I love the smell, the texture, how different flavours contrast and compliment each other. I love the stories and history behind food, the science behind food, the various ways different types of foods are made, I love the care, time, and detail put into food, I love everything about food.
Pasta. Who doesn’t like pasta? I like pasta, but I’m not a huge fan. I mean, it seems to me to be such a plain food. Flour, egg, and water, mixed together and made into interesting shapes. Boil it, pour tomato sauce on it, eat it. Simple and time efficient. However, I will never go into a restaurant and buy spaghetti with tomato sauce… even if it has meatballs. I will go into a restaurant (Spago Trattoria e Pizzeria) and buy rigatoni with eggplant, onions, peppers, something and something, cream sauce and cheese…I almost died eating it, it was so good! But it didn’t taste like I was eating pasta, it tasted like I was eating a piece of heaven, and I think that that is what good pasta tastes like. The chef took care to choose the shape of the pasta to compliment the texture of the meal he was creating. He didn’t overload the dish with too much pasta, however it was balanced with the other ingredients. The vegetables were cut generously, so you knew what you were eating when you ate it, the sauce was not mild rather it had a rich flavour, hence the over all boldness of the meal called for larger cuts of ingredients. I can respect such pastas! Pastas such as the one I had in Nice, I can not respect because while I was eating it I knew I was eating flour, egg, water, cream and pieces of bacon. To conclude, I find it hard to respect pasta unless it tastes like a piece of heaven in your mouth.
Anyways, I don’t know why I went into the subject of pasta, because the real reason I began to write about food was to talk about my obsession with Brie cheese. I write Brie with a capital B because I feel it deserves such respect, being my favorite cheese and all. I’ve become pretty much obsessed with it and haven’t gone without it the past few days. My thighs are frowning at me (more like screaming ‘traitor!’) as my taste buds roar with delight. The other day I went to a town called Beaulieu Sur Mer. I did a lot of walking, in heels mind you, and thought to myself “wow, if my legs didn’t get a work out today, I don’t know my shitty pastas from my delicious pastas”. And I mean, my legs were sore, I could feel the burn… the French Riviera isn’t the Canadian prairies, that’s for sure, you have serious up mountain walking. So, feeling all good because I got a lot of movement in my day, and hoping that maybe I countered the generous amount of Brie cheese I ate the night before, I hopped on the train back to Nice, bought a baguette at the corner bakery, and walked in the front door to my sister’s apartment. She had, low and behold, pasta on the stove with a bolognese sauce and lots of onions. I put a little into a bowl, and then cut a chunk of Brie from the huge wheel we bought last week, stuck it in the microwave, and savoured every bite. Then I went back and cut another chunk. And one more time after that.
I have this thing in my head where I tell myself, it’s okay, you’re in France, you’re allowed to enjoy their specialties. Baguettes and Brie will be the death of me.
Brie for me is the king of all cheeses. After reflecting on my Brie consumption, I did a little research to find out more about Brie cheese. Yes, I looked it up on Wikipedia. I found that my love for Brie is not amateur rather, Brie has been revered since the 8th century. Charlemagne, the father of Europe, fell in love with Brie (who’s reign I studied during my favourite medieval art history courses)! So how can I, a mere mortal, resist the call of the king cheese?
A certain hazelnut and chocolate spread has found its way on my baguettes, and more often than not, on my crêpes, but I won’t get into that.
Now, let’s pull our appetites away from food and let our eyes feast on the beautiful things I had the pleasure of viewing the past few days.
Monday December 17th I went to the Matisse Museum. I took the bus up to an area of Nice called Cimiez where the Matisse Museum, Cimiez Monastery, and Roman Ruins can be found all in close proximity. The museum was a pleasant experience for the most part however there was an incident that upset me more than it probably should have. After I paid my entrance fee (2.50 euro for students) I walked in and went into the first room on my right. There were some paintings hung on the wall and original furniture owned by Matisse. I was almost more excited over the furniture being there than the paintings! On my way out of that room, headed for the next, I asked a security officer if pictures were allowed to be taken (even though I pretty much knew that as a general rule, no photos in museums, I hadn’t seen any signs against it and was hoping against hope) and of course he informed me that they weren’t. No problem. I went into the next room where there were more paintings and several bronze sculptures and was looking around when the security guard came in and called me over. He said to me that no pictures were allowed to be taken in the gallery and had a look on his face like “come on lady, I just told you this!” I said that I didn’t take any pictures and that he could look at my digital camera to prove it. So I showed him my camera and he was satisfied that I hadn’t taken any photos. Every room has video surveillance and the man watching the monitors thought he saw a flash come from the room I was in so he alerted the security guard. There was another couple in the room, but I didn’t notice a camera or flash from them. Anyways, the security guard radioed the surveillance guy and told him I didn’t take any pictures and that was that. I don’t know what, but something about the whole experience upset me even though I knew it wasn’t a big deal.
I love Matisse’s work; the bold colours and shapes, his short brush strokes and the graphic composition of his paintings. My favorite work at the museum is “Fenetre à Tahiti” (1935). He didn’t paint anything while in Tahiti but took pictures and souvenirs home and painted this piece several years after his trip. It is a very large work, at least five feet lengthwise.
The Roman ruins are just behind the Matisse Museum, so before I went inside, I walked around the property and took photos of the ruins. Because I left sometime after noon for Cimiez, perhaps around two or three o’clock, by the time I was done in the museum, night had begun to fall and it wasn’t ideal nor safe to go walk among the ruins and learn more about them from the plaques stationed at different sites. I saw the Cimiez Monastery from the outside and through glass doors could see the inside of the church.
Tuesday I was suppose to go to Monaco by myself but when I woke up in the morning… ok I won’t lie, I was to lazy to actually wake up. My sister and I ended up having an errand day; groceries, shopping, cleaning and the like. I just wasn’t in the mood to go to Monaco. It was cold outside, overcast, and my interest faded. I know some people must be thinking I’m pretty stupid to pass up going to Monaco while I’m in Nice, but really, it is another beautiful city and I’ll be back one day when I actually have money to use at the casino. I went to the tourism website and it was really geared towards business and luxury, either of which I cannot afford. Heck, the average age in Monaco is 45 — highest average in the world! I’ll be back to see Monaco one day, however at that time I will pull up in my yacht, pop open a $300 bottle of champaign and as they say, when in Monaco, do as the Monegasques do.
Wednesday I discovered a piece of paradise. I went to a town called Beaulieu Sur Mer. What can I say, the name is true to the land (”beau” means beautiful, “lieu” means place, “sur mer” means on the sea). I found it so peaceful there; a smaller town feel, not so many people running around, not so many tourists, it was a gorgeous sunny day. My intention of going to this town was to visit the Kerylos Greek Villa and the Ephrussi de Rothschild Villa. When I got off the train, I didn’t really know where I was suppose to go. There was a tourist information building right by the train station and my sister told me to go there and ask for directions when I first arrived. It was around lunchtime however and the information building was closed. It was suppose to open in ten minutes from when I got there so I waited but it did not open. So I went off on my own figuring that I would be able to find it myself; Beaulieu not being a huge town, plus I knew it was on the water. But before I headed for the villa I stayed by the water and took pictures. I just sat on the rocks and soaked in the sun and looked out onto the sea.
I found the Kerylos Greek Villa and it was really beautiful to see. It was about 15 euros admission but that included admission to the other villa as well. I got an information phone that would play a recording and give you information about each of the rooms of the villa. The furniture was great and I loved the frescos (especially the depictions of the octopuses).
A few nights before my sister and I watched the Mr. Bean movie where he traveled to Cannes. In the movie Mr. Bean has his cam corder and constantly takes pictures of himself. I laughed to myself remembering this film as I set my 10 second timer on my camera and ran to pose as to make it in time to be in the picture! Since I was alone and there really weren’t that many other people around to ask to take a picture of me there, I had to do it myself!
The Ephrussi de Rothschild Villa has absolutely gorgeous gardens surrounding it. It is located more inland, sort of on a cliff. From the Kerylos Villa I walked all along the water (there is a nice pedestrian path that runs the long of the shore) and then turned inland to trek up to the Ephrussi Villa. The sun was beginning to set so it was great lighting to take pictures there. But of course, it is winter and not all of the gardens were in full bloom — I can just imagine how stunning it would be during the summer months. I decided that I want to be proposed to in those gardens, so future husband, take note! It is the most romantic place I’ve ever been! I didn’t end up going in the villa because it was getting dark and I had a good 30 minute walk back to the train station and didn’t want to walk in the dark on curving streets that didn’t have sidewalks. At the end of my time there I decided I wanted to take a video clip of the lovely water fountain in the garden at the back of the house. Just as I was about to hit the record button, the water stopped running and I thought to myself, great, they turned the fountain off for the night and I didn’t get a picture. Then just as soon as I finished that thought, coloured lights turned on from beneath the water, classical music started blaring, and then water from the fountain suddenly sprang up! Not only did the water shoot out, but it danced to the music! I can’t even tell you how wonderful it was. The water fountain was set to pulsate to the sound of the classical music, for instance, when there was a flute solo, the curvy water shooters would spin and delicate swirly streams of water would shoot out. At crescendos the water would crescendo in hight, it was really genius! My camera battery died just after I filmed the fountain and so concluded my beautiful day at Beaulieu.
… to see pictures from my beautiful day, click HERE!
Wednesday night my sister and her friend pulled all nighters finishing their final essays. In the afternoon on Thursday, once the girls had caught up on some sleep, we took a bus to a medieval village called Eze. It is about 15-20 minutes from Nice and a beautiful ride up the mountain with fabulous views of the sea. Because it is not tourist season, many of the shops in the medieval village were closed and there weren’t many people. But it was absolutely quaint and was quite apparent to me that the French were not very tall way back when (as the doorways were very short and the streets very narrow)! We had a lovely evening there, roaming around and we even payed 5 euros to see the exotic garden at the highest peek of the village that had a great panoramic view.
That night the three of us decided we wanted to have a night out, so we got dressed and headed for Vieux Nice. We had dinner at a restaurant called Savana. My sister and her friend ate there before for her friend’s birthday dinner and said they had fabulous service (free champaign and cake) and that the food was great. So we went there and the service was pretty good (no free champaign though) and the food very good as well. However I was stupid and got lamb because I was really craving it — however I had a feeling it wouldn’t be prepared the way I really like it and that it would be a smallish portion not to mention the fact that it was the most expensive dish. All in all I knew it wasn’t the best bang for my buck however, I felt like lamb and couldn’t shake it. To make a long story short, it was good, but didn’t hit the spot like it would at home had my mom made it, but I can’t be picky, I’m in Nice, not in my mom’s kitchen. My sister got a fillet of salmon and her friend got a lasagna (which was really tastey - I had a bite - and wished I had ordered it). After dinner we wanted to go somewhere that was more loungy/clubby and not so much pub like. After roaming around for a while, not really finding anything that suited what we were looking for, a young man approached us, using the line “you girls look lost”. We talked to him for a bit and he said he knew a place that fit the description of what we were looking for, so we followed him there. It was pretty much exactly what we were looking for so we were pretty happy. A pretty small joint called Liqwid, you walk in and the bouncer works as coat check as well. Descend four steps and you’re on the walkway/dance floor that is between two rows of bottle service seating (you only get to sit if you order bottle service) similar to Cheval in Toronto. The bar is located in the back and I was informed that they just recently turned the lounge into a restaurant during the day. We each bought a round of drinks and had champaign on the house. We made our way to the strip of a dance floor where the young French wiggled around. |enter rant about Nice nightlife| My hat is off to Toronto! Both my sister and I miss the T Dot for the partying and night life. Nice just doesn’t cut it. Every bar is tiny and drinks are über expensive. People don’t dance as much here either. Boo.
The walk home was frightening. It takes at least 30 minutes to walk back to my sister’s apartment from Vieux Nice. Half way home we noticed a guy peddling on his bike behind us at a very leisurely speed. We ignored him and kept walking, but after a while, it was quite obvious that he was following us. My sister turned around and gave him a stare to indicate “ok buddy, we know what’s going on, get out of here”. But it was to no avail. After that myself and the friend also turned to give him a stare down, but again, no effect. At one point he - get this - opened an electronic gate to an apartment building, which means he may live there and it is just around the corner from my sister’s apartment, and pretended to go inside, as if to make us put our guards down if we bought his acting. But two minutes later we turned around and he was still peddling behind us on his bike. I really think its some strange sickness found in France. If you watch the movie “Two Days in Paris” they depict a similar scene in Paris on the subway (ps: great movie, really funny!). Anyways, back to the creeper. So we made it to the corner of my sister’s street but we didn’t want to head up it so that he would know where we lived. So we all stood at the corner and stared at him and just waited. He circled around on his bike for a little while then went up the street. But of course we didn’t buy his act and we waited there a little longer. As we thought, he returned. Unbelievable! So we continued to wait, again he left but of course we didn’t think it was for good, however we didn’t want to stand on the corner all night, so once he left we booted it up her street, once we got to the top we looked back and saw him lingering and slowly peddling up. We got to my sister’s front door and I told the girls not to turn on any lights because that would be a clear indication of where we lived since it was late at night and not many lights were on in the other apartements. Once we got up to her apartment we kept all the lights off until we went to bed and used our cellphones as flash lights and I lit a candle in the kitchen. Absolutely nuts.
Friday we woke up early to catch the train to Ventimiglia Italy to check out the outdoor market. All the trains were delayed so we waited around for about an hour. At the train station we ran into one of my sister’s friends from her program and his friend who came to visit who isn’t but is a girlfriend (one of those ‘complicated’ relationships) but anyways, it was nice to run into them and have company going there and coming back. The train ride is about 20 minutes and we had a lot of fun mimicking the French and how they say “Oh-la-la”.
The market was interesting to brows through however, other than the leather merchandise and the cheese and meat stands, there really wasn’t any merchandise that was original to Italy. A lot of it was ‘made in China’ and ‘made in India’ products sold by Chinese and Indians. Both my sister and I bought really nice leather purses. We also had a wonderfully pleasant experience with an Italian farmer selling cheese and meats. As we browsed his products, he offered us large samples of cheese, meat, and gave us bread. He was an older man, in his 50’s or 60’s and was staring at our eyes saying ‘blue and green’ in Italian and saying how pretty our eyes were. Then he started calling the young guys who worked for him to come look! He was great; we bought a block of Parmesan (so delicious, I eat it plain with bread) from him and a thick slice of another cheese (I don’t know what it is called) but it is a strong cheese and I absolutely love it. It all came to 11 euros but the boy at the cash only asked for 10. As we were getting ready to leave, the older man brought us napkins to wipe our hands from the samples we ate (more like a full meal) and then started waving at the young men working with him saying that they should marry us! Then he joked that they would have to jump up to kiss either of us because we were so tall. It was great fun and they were all very pleasant. We said goodbye and continued on our way.
It looks like a huge market, but really, the merchandise is repeated over and over again, so once you cover a length of it, you’ve basically seen it all.
On the train ride home the four of us sat in a car that had compartments, so if you can imagine in the old days, those train cars with doors and curtains and such. The seats completely reclined back so that you could sleep in a flat bed. We had fun figuring out how everything worked in there.
When we got home, we packed a suitcase and took a train to Cannes. I had booked a hotel online for 50 euros and it was right in the downtown and one block from the train station so it was great because it wasn’t too far to walk anywhere. We had a little delay when we arrived because they coudln’t find out reservation, but it ended up the owner forgot his copy of it in his car. Nonetheless, everything ended up fine. My sister and I went to our room and got dressed up for a night out in Cannes. We had done research before we went so that we would know where we were going and tried to choose a club that seemed fairly new and popular with the locals. However, once downtown we had a hard time finding the place. We asked some young men on the street where it was, the place was called ‘Les Coulisses’, but they informed us it had recently closed and there was a restaurant now in its place. So we asked them where was a good alternative, and just up the street was a place that had the base going and looked packed inside. We went there and found that it was a small place, completely packed, with a lively crowd, and a lack of oxygen due to the cigarette smoke. The music was good so we headed to the bar and bought two gin and tonics. As the bartender made the drinks my sister gave me a look that read, ‘wow, they’re not stingy on the alcohol here!’ The bartender then asked me for 20 euros. So we slowly drank our drinks and grooved to the music. We made our way to the more center part of the bar and danced there. Everyone was drunk, dancing, singing, girls dancing on the bar top, guys ordering buckets of champaign, it was really a great fun atmosphere! A really tall and gorgeous French guy in a striped t-shirt and jeans grabbed the necklace I was wearing and swung it around, hinting he wanted to dance. I danced a little with him but then turned my attention away and continued to dance with my sister. Now French men are a little weird in the way that they dance with eachother. I can’t figure out if it is that they swing both ways, or if it is that they are just really comfortable with one another and their sexuality, I don’t know. But what I saw was man on man grinding. They also had this weird little dance that my sister and I took part in until we were like, “ok that was fun for about 2o seconds” where we all put our arms over each others shoulders in a congo type line and swung back and forth. We were all laughing and having a great time, but the congo-like dancing got a little tiring for us so we pulled out. I had an annoying creeper continue to keep trying to dance with me, even when I physically pushed him away and told him I didn’t want to dance with him, so we decided it was time to leave and got home around 2am. My impression of Cannes night life was really great and I would totally go there again to party, much better than Nice! When we got back to the hotel the guy at the reception desk was a total dork and was totally googly eyed over my sister and I. As we were leaving for our night out, he stopped us with the usual line to have an excuse to talk to girls in France, “Excuse me, do you have a light”. Then he went on to ask us about our last name, are we Serb or are we Croat, blah blah, we said ’see ya’, and left. When we got back, there was a vase with some roses on a table and he asked us if we had a good time - yes - then he asked if we wanted a rose - no, you creep. You’d understand better if you could see this dork haha.
It was raining the next day so my sister and I did a little shopping in Cannes, looking at all the beautiful luxury stores. We went to a restaurant for lunch and had pizza. Best pizza I’ve ever had! Prepare a napkin to wipe the drool off your chin; thin, thin crust, lots of cheese, artichoke hearts, ham, oregano, onion, mushrooms and a cracked egg in the middle, sunny side up.
We took the train home and once there, began to pack for Germany. We’re in Germany right now but I’m going to stop writing because I am very tired and could barely stand to write what I did today. I’ll post some pictures later to go with what I wrote today, but it takes too much time and I’m dying to go to sleep right now. I’ll pick up tomorrow or the day after with my experience traveling to Germany and the events since I’ve been here. I hope all those who celebrated Christmas on the 25th had a very merry time with family and friends! I’m totally jealous of those who went to Nije Nas Bozic at Circa, I hope y’all had a fabulous time!
Peace out homies!
