Nice Yachts and More Boats

I don't often do posts with lots of photos in them, but the other weekend I spent a lot of time (it seemed) on the port of Nice, and so I got snapping with my non-professional camera.

We arrived early evening in time for an apero at the Hotel Negresco in the wood-panelled bar that resembled a pub but somehow didn't, with its soaring ceiling and glorious listed design.

The aperos were a shocking price - €18 for a cocktail, but hey, we don't do this often, so I had a Negroni (Campari, Martini and gin). It must be decades since I had Campari, probably 2 at least. It came with a nifty selection of nibbles that were very original, including a special Niçoise tapenade made with special olives.

The next morning, while my TWDB was doing his usual Sunday lie-in thing, I got up and went out in search of breakfast. I bought a couple of very average croissants and a litre of fruit juice, and went to sit on the port in the sun with my Kindle.

View over breakfast

After being recalled to base, I went back to the port for a nice walk, this time with my TWDB. We saw big yachts with a mini-me,

the large one so big it dwarfed the buildings opposite.

On the other side of the port was a colourful collection of fishing boats.

complete with old sea dog at work.

Some of the little boats had little masts

and some didn't

and thus gave an uninterrupted view across the port to the middle-sized yachts and mega yachts beyond.

Some boats looked like they worked very hard

while others looked like they never left port.

My TWDB told me many of these super yachts are bought as floating capital. If things get sticky, instructions are sent to the crew to make for international waters where the yacht cannot be seized. Worth tens of millions of euros, the yachts are a smart way of safe-guarding capital when the tax man comes knocking to avoid those awkward questions...

Lady and Miss Christine

Does that say Creek or Greek...?

If you've got the the smart yacht, you've got to have the smart car too, how about a Bentley with smart red leather interior?

While I was strolling along admiring the views, I was not concentrating on the ground. Unfortunately some bloody mutt had done a poo and its even bloodier owner had not cleared it up, so I ended up treading in it. Cue much swearing and bad temper, all aimed at irresponsible dog owners and their sodding mutts. I then had to find a way to clean up. I dragged my shoe along the ground, I dipped it into the water, and even went so far as to wipe my shoe on a handy mat...

Note handy mat

Thank you kindly Shandor owner for the handy mat. Sorry if it's a bit pongy now...


From the port, we went up in the lift to the castle grounds at the top of the cliff and looked out over the higgledy piggledy old Niçois rooftops

Rooftops of old Nice

and the glorious curve of the bay busy with people enjoying the unseasonally fine weather. Just look at that blue!

We left on Sunday afternoon after soaking up the sun and lunch on the port. Amazingly we had glorious weather. This is completely normal because my TWDB has sold his flat in Nice. When he had it, our weekends were invariably ruined by 'exceptional' dodgy weather.

In the sunshine, it's just stunning.

Hip-ache

I think I overdid it yesterday. The weather, which had been depressingly cloudy and wet during the week, turned glorious just in time for the weekend.

I had spent a fraught Friday night getting the boys off on their trip to Paris to see their father. Because of my eldest's faffing about getting his schoolbooks sorted out to take, we had to race to the platform only to see the train pulling out and on its way. I emitted an expletive loudly and forcefully.

We then queued up for half an hour to change the tickets and they must have got the last two seats on the next train, in first class natch, and needed a supplementary financial top-up. They looked mighty pleased with themselves sat at their two-place table with two glamorous and perhaps even famous chicks at the foursome table on the other side of the aisle.

So yesterday I was boy-free, and it was sunny, and I was determined to make the most of it. Pooh-poohing the idea of shopping, I donned some sporty shorts and tee-shirt and headed off to the beach. There wasn't a cloud in the sky - the sun shone generously, warmly, full of vitamin D.
I aimed to do my Carnon (Petit Travers) - Grande Motte walk at a healthy pace. The beach was empty except for a few people walking their dogs/girlfriend/spouse or jogging, and one or two families scattered sparsely. There were even people in the sea. I tested the water and it was surprisingly warm, not that I was about to rush in and go for a bracing swim, mind.

I set off quite lazily, warming up. It's been a year since I did the walk and I was feeling a bit the worse for my lack of regular exercise. As I loosened up, I upped the pace and walked briskly along the hard sand at the water's edge.

The sea was peaceful with only little wavelets splashing up onto the beach. It was too calm for sailing boats so there was hardly any activity going on further out. The odd plane heading for Montpellier droned from overhead as it swept out over the water to U-turn back for landing, wheels down at the ready. A handful of fishermen had their rods out, and their nutbrown wives were enjoying deepening the colour on their topless chests.

I nearly killed a Yorkshire terrier puppy however, inadvertently I might add. I was walking along at a brisk pace and passed a couple with two dogs off leads one of which was the puppy. I didn't realise it, but it seemed to think I had something terribly attractive to smell round about my ankles and came tearing after me running under my feet and causing me to trip up. I nearly trod on it, and it would have been a goner, it was that small. Its owner came rushing up to scold it and try and make it realise it had behaved stupidly, but it was really an exceptionaly stupid animal because it had not learnt its lesson at all. I had carried on walking but became aware that the owner was shrieking at the mutt because it was charging straight for my feet, again. I looked down and there it was dying to be trodden on, and the temptation was almost too great... However, it was scooped up into the arms of its owner before I could do any damage and whisked away.

I reached La Grande Motte and sat down for a rest in the sun, soaking up that vitamin D and some colour to my face, then I got up and walked back. I was feeling a tad tired though, so fairly ambled along back to the car.

Despite climbing up hills and doing bits and bobs in the recent past, that walk has left me physically exhausted today. I had to do some cleaning, but my hips are killing me and I feel like some crippled old biddy as I hobble around. So I've been taking it quite easy, had a snooze after lunch and been reading my latest compelling read, 'This thing of darkness'. Not chicklit, but a fabulous story of adventure mapping that most hostile of coastlines, Patagonia, back in the nineteenth century.

It's about as much adventure as I can take right now, hunkered down in a comfy chair in the sun.

Sunny St Laurent le Minier

Last weekend we had a picnic in the mysterious mists of a drizzly day at St Laurent le Minier.

This last weekend, due to popular demand, from my youngest, we went back, this time in the sun, and what a different scene greeted our eyes. The river banks were no longer empty but full of life. Children splashed in the shallows, women sauntered about in bikinis and young men dived off anything over a deepish pool.

Picnics were laid out, babies were being changed on picnic tables, and beach balls tossed from one side of the river to another.

Young men hovered on the edge of the dam, others hovered on the edge of the bridge, some even having the courage to jump into the river below. It is early summer and there has been rain, otherwise this would be a foolish thing to do!

The atmosphere was light and airy with holidaymakers and locals wiling away a warm afternoon by a cool river. They probably didn't notice the extraordinary rock formations they walked on; plates of rock pushed up then weathered and eroded to provide shelves for bums and picnic plates.

There was no sense of mystery; no dark corners, no damp hideouts reeking of lush, rotting vegetation. All was brightly lit, a bit smelly with the stagnant pools, and frankly juvenile despite the evidence of ancient rocks and a beautiful bridge. The sun bleached all the dark corners and exposed them to the glare of sunscreen and nappy wipes.

I enjoyed our picnic, as did the boys, especially with an ice-cream in hand. But... I think I preferred the one in the rain.