By Harry Mottram: It was the first holiday Linda and I had taken in two years – a week in Nice in southern France in an Airbnb and a chance to get some sunshine. Except the sunshine was back home in Axbridge while here it rained every day – although it was warm most of the time with some sunny spells. And due to my attempts to lose weight I didn’t indulge in the booze, left my fags at home and tried to be careful with the calories – which sounds boring but actually was fine since after a heart attack last year avoiding the grim reaper for a bit longer is a priority.
We came to Nice seven years ago for a week so we were vaguely familiar with the city – the Promenade des Anglais, (pictured) the steeply shelving pebble beach, the 300 steps up to the non-castle castle and broad park following the covered river, the Promenade Pailon with its fountains, specimen trees and Place de Massena. No plan other than to take it easy and stay in the city and wander its streets and browse in its shops.
We visited two museums – Lauren Ballesta’s Mers et Mysteres exhibition at the Musee de la Photographie and in contrast the Jules Chéret Museum of Fine Arts – set in a fine and rather grand 19th century mansion originally built for a wealthy Russian. Somethings don’t change judging by the number of Russian voices heard on the streets. The main exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts was of the work of Raoul Dufy, entitled the miracle of the imagination, which showed the polymath’s skills as a designer, artist and illustrator or as the museum describes: “Raoul Dufy (1877-1953) is best known today for his brightly coloured palette and the cheerfulness of his subjects, from which any form of doubt or anxiety is banished.”
The museum has some vast paintings in the ball room of classical themes which would need an articulated lorry to move if the need arose – plus there was the permanent collection by Cheret including some romantic and colourful paintings from the period of the Second Republic including Le dejeuner sur l’herbe, – a celebration of female beauty set in a fantasy garden. You can buy a ticket to see all nine of the city’s museums for £14 – sorry Euros – but we chose due to Linda’s tummy and my heart to see just two. Set in an old industrial building by the flower market Lauren Ballesta’s Mers et Mysteres exhibition at the Musee de la Photographie was a stunning display of undersea photography. Penguins diving into the Antarctic Ocean from an iceberg, sharks hunting in packs and the most extraordinary deep sea creature which were more science fiction than science fact due to their weird and wonderful shapes and colours.
Dodging the rain which fell at times continually – and which included a dramatic thunder storm – we did make the beach a couple of times for a swim. The water was fine – none of those OMG moments when it comes up to your waist when you take a dip off the Scottish coast due to the freezing temperature – but the steep shelving and large pebbles makes for a tricky entry and exit to the waters of the Med. Locals were wearing special shoes to solve the problem – but being British we staggered half falling and half swaying with much giggling like a couple of drunks trying to stay upright as we negotiated the few yards into the sea – which was surprisingly rough.
Since we go to bed early like a couple of OAPs and neither were drinking any booze we bought food from the local Intermarche and Carrefour supermarkets which had a vast range of nosh – including whole sections on cheese which due to current rules (foot and mouth outbreak) you can’t take back to
Blighty. The flat near the Alsace and Lorraine Park had a cooker and a modern kitchen so we dined in and spent much of the time speculating on the lives of the pedestrians passing by in the street below – including the incredibly skilled way people parked their cars – often squeezing into spaces with an inch or three at either end.
The one shocking moment (apart from the prices in the cafes) was when we witnessed a street accident. There are lots of e-bikes and e-scooters in Nice – with dedicated cycle lanes but many riders speed along at up to 30mph looking at their phones while texting away. One such e-scooter rider jumped a red light in front of us at a crossroads and crashed into a car crossing his path. It was a real bang – throwing the rider across the car and onto the road. I ran to his aid but before I could get to him he stood up, staggered a few yards and collapsed in agony crying out in pain his trousers torn and blood staining the ground. With only school boy French I couldn’t think of the words for someone call an ambulance – but with so many people there – all thankfully helping him into the recovery position there was no need. I picked up he mangled scooter before a motorist could drive over it and watched as two women came forward to help the young female driver move her car to the side. And normal traffic resumed as an ambulance could be heard coming down the street. It was a timely reminder for me of life’s tenuous thread as exactly one year ago that day I was hit by a car from behind while cycling (no I didn’t jump a red light) ending up with multiple fractures, cuts and bruises and a smashed bicycle. We take for granted the normality of life until something like this happens when we realise just how easily it can end in just a split second.
The real joy of visiting any city or country is people watching. Sitting on a bench watching the families taking selfies, the your female influencers and their acolytes making videos of themselves with the backdrop of the beach basking in their obvious beauty. The workers repairing the roads, moving furniture from lorries or sweeping up the litter of last night’s excesses on the beach. The shops, the tourist parties following their guide and of course those regulars of walkers in Axbridge and Nice – the dog walkers – with their mainly tiny pooches dragged along or stopping to swap canine tales with each other. Which shows however exotic Nice may be – it is just a normal place at heart.
We travelled by EasyJet from Bristol Airport and by tram in Nice.
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