A Nice time

I'm skipping a bit of the trip here for the sake of my buddy David who asked for some recommendations of what to do in Nice. So here goes.

We arrived in Nice after a loooong hot and sticky train ride from Barcelona. The thirteen or so hours were uneventful until we stopped off briefly in Marseilles and a met a kiwi couple who joined for the last leg of the journey. These guys seemed nice enough, obviously list tickers who had 'enjoyed' around 24 hours at each of their destinations before hurtling to their next point on the checklist. After more time spent with them however, it appeared this kind of travelling had begun to take it's toll. The guy was super friendly and just excited to hear another New Zealand accent, the girl on the other hand looked like all she wanted to do was eat her darling boyfriend's face off if he so much as touched her.

Turns out that they had been booking accommodation as they went rather than in advance which to an extent works but not everywhere, particularly in Nice. I think a lot of backpackers have this romantic notion of arriving in a place and finding a quaint place to stay once you get there. Doesn't happen. It won't be quaint, it will be shit. Remember this guys or beware the wrath of an unshowered, overtired girlfriend. 

Back to Nice though. We arrived at the wrong hostel (there are two of the same name just to mess with you) so ended up at the right one at around 11pm. It was a lovely suprise then that our room door was buggered and somehow trapped us in when we closed it behind us. Several panicked phone calls and a packet of Mister Corn (amazing European snack- find it in Spain) later we were finally rescued by the confused girl at reception. This was the last room left so our first night in Nice was spent with the door a crack open, in full earshot of a drunk American girl laugh-crying on the shoulder of some guy that was not her boyfriend.

That reminds me- watch out for young Americans who say they are “studying abroad”. They aren't allowed to drink until they're 21 back home so con their parents into paying for them to study in Europe where they can order over the bar like grown ups. The result is frightening and so, so loud.

Okay so I'm rambling now. Time for a list- that you may tick or not tick as you see fit if you are ever in the Nice neighbourhood.

Promenade des Anglais: This is the stretch of footpath that runs right along the waterfront. Great for people watching and feels a bit like a time warp where ladies rollerblade by in lycra and overtanned portly old men sport medallions and white linen shirts.

Cours Selaya Flower Market: Despite the name this is more about the food. Beautiful produce that is almost too good to eat and fantastic French atmosphere. So much colour!

Fennochio Icecream Parlour: All gelato shops in Nice are open ridiculously late and this is no exception. The real reason to go is for the variety of flavours though- I had black olive (amazing) and basil & tomato (bit weird) but there are 80 or so other flavours to choose from.

La Voix De Son Maitre: The most amazing creperie. We stumbled on this wee gem and never wanted to eat anywhere else in Nice. Get one of the Galettes (massive wafer thin savoury crepes) for dinner- we had smoked salmon on ours and they were glorious. The hardest part is choosing your topping- such a selection! They also serve delicious cider in tea cups. Note: you must linger at least 45 mins after your meal or they get offended. The French like you to savour your meals.

Le Chateau: Climb up the steps of Le Chateau for breathtaking views of the city. The colour of the ocean in Nice is something to behold and it is truly magnificent from a height. There's even a waterfall tucked into the walk and the elaborate graves in the cemetery are worth a look too.

Vieux Nice (Old town): Stumbling through the bustling cobbled streets that make up the 'old town' district, you really feel like you're in Nice- the heart of the city. Get a 'pan bagnet' in you (massive tuna sandwich that is so much better than it sounds) and pretend you're a local.

A couple things to flag...

Monaco: It's a novelty that this tiny place is a country in its own right and just forty minutes from Nice. Seeing as it's only a couple euro bus ride away we were easily tempted to have a wee look. Seriously though, a novelty is all it is. Yawn. The Monte Carlo casino is worth a gander but dress the part if you want to get past the reception area.

Wayne's Bar: If you're one of those people that go overeseas to hang out with other kiwis and the odd Aussie then by all means. If you want good music, atmosphere and personal space then steer clear.  

Happy Nice time!

Mmmmmm le tasty...behold the glory of the galette

Paree

Paris, the city of lights, love and fashion right?

Um yeah, my experience was quite different.

First up there's the smell. Nobody tells you about the smell. The place actually reeks of urine. I'm not sure where it comes from but it's one of those odours that sneaks up on you...just when you think you're safe you turn a bend and it slaps you in the face. Heartbreaking when this happens mid-crepe.

But ahh the food! Parisian cuisine is a redeeming factor- that is if you can find someone who'll serve you. After a train ride from Amsterdam and an hour or so of traipsing through the rain, Julia and I stumbled into a cosy looking restaurant. What wasn't so cosy was the reception. Not only were we English speakers but we dared to arrive too early for dinner service; “We derr nat seurve dinnow oontil sevoon!” barked the owner. First lesson learnt; the French don't do early bird specials.

Eventually we ended up settling for a baguette and some €5 Bordeaux which as you will find in France, was equally as amazing as any slap up dinner in a fancy restaurant.

I felt a bit strange in Paris as it took a while for me to fall for the city's charms. I actually feel a bit sorry for the place as it is quite possibly the most over hyped city in the world. The way that it is sold to tourists is so romanticised that you can't help but arrive with a bunch of pre-conceived notions in your suitcase. I suggest dumping these at the station.

Don't be a list ticker in Paris. Go and see the Eiffel tower but don't bother spending hours in a line to go up it. Our walking tour guide made the very good point that if you are up the tower, you can't actually see it in the city scape. A much better view is up the top of the Arc de Triomphe. Plus you get to watch the mental uncontrolled Parisian mess that is the intersection down below. Guaranteed prang every five minutes.

Another reality check is the Louvre. It's big, real big. So big that you couldn't possibly see everything in there unless you spent six years in the damn thing (seriously). A much better option is the Musee d'Orsay, described to us by a local as a selection of the best paintings in Paris. The Louvre by comparison is the 'mall' of paintings- they'll take anything. Yes, it has Mona but almost everyone I've spoken to says that she is a bit of a Sopranos finale- aka total let down.

If Paris were a person it would be a washed up actress that can't quite shake the delusions of grandeur she clung to so ardently in her youth. Funnily enough, this is what makes her charming. No other place emits this kind of character more than the district of Montmartre. You may know it from such films as Amelie. I now know it as the place where you truly feel like you are in Paris.

Montmartre is a treasure trove of history and art. There's the restaurant where Picasso used to paint the waitresses portraits to score a free dinner, Van Gogh's flat (and the brothel where he mailed his ear to the prostitute he wanted to marry!) and the beautiful Sacre Coeur. Add a sprinkle of street art, dash of Satanists (yup), a few handfuls of delicious eateries, a windmill or two and you get the real Paris, not the post card version.

If I'm lucky enough to go back there I will head straight to Montmartre, eat a bowl of cheese laden French onion soup and pose for a portrait with one of the insanely talented painters that line the streets. That is my impression of the true romance of Paris. I suggest you go there immediately and find your own. 

-Montmartre at dusk

Iamsterdam

It's Sunday morning and I could've slept until midday but for some ungodly reason I woke up at 7.40am. So ripped off. I figure if I can't be dreaming then I may as well be day dreaming about my trip so lets go to the Netherlands.

Getting from London to Amsterdam was quite the trek and amongst several train rides, we spent a night on a ferry which proved a memorable experience. We had no expectations of the boat...actually that's not accurate, we had low expectations of the boat.

On arrival at the terminal we decided to get some food from the dodgy little cafe in there incase there weren't any options on board. I had the tomato soup which was literally the sauce that comes with baked beans, minus the baked beans. After lugging our backpacks around to kill time for an hour or so we decided to get on board and were greeted with a selection of bars, restaurants, shops and even a casino. Epic fail. Lucky we still had room for a G&T which was potentially the strongest drink I've ever been poured from behind a bar. Two lessons learnt from that experience; don't make assumptions and don't ask for a double in Europe.

Expectations are a funny thing when you're travelling. You always have them but they're almost never proved right. I didn't expect a lot from Amsterdam other than the obvious but I can now say that my mind was blown by the place (and not in the way you're thinking). Amsterdam is a city with so much personality that you can't help but fall in love with it. Wandering the streets you experience a range of different emotions - with or without the help of a coffee shop. 

One minute you're being charmed by the canal lined streets littered with house boats sporting gaudy lawn ornaments, the next you're shocked by the barely clothed women posing in windows, then suddenly you're fearing for your life as a mad cyclist hurtles toward you shouting something rude in Dutch.

There is one place that I would totally recommend you go to even though you will most likely come out feeling utterly disillusioned with mankind- Anne Frank's house. The loft where her family hid while the Nazis invaded the city is so well preserved that it's eerie. What got me was how real the family becomes once you're there. You see the marks on the wall measuring Anne and her sister's height, the pictures Anne stuck on the walls to make up for the lack of windows and the handwritten pages of her diary, the second most translated book in the world after the bible.

The people of Amsterdam put up one of the biggest fights against the Nazi regime and tried desperately to save their Jewish friends. Unfortunately their efforts were largely in vain but this kind of fighting spirit is still evident in the city today.

In Amsterdam you can grow drugs freely, be one of the most popular prostitutes in town at age 85 (seriously her waiting list is three months apparently) and basically be whoever you want to be without needing to worry about what anyone else thinks. It is this tolerance that makes Amsterdam such a vibrant and exciting place. Also, you can buy burgers and other deep fried goodies from vending machines there (google FEBO).

I recommend going to Amsterdam with no expectations other than that you will be surprised. You won't be disappointed.

Yet another example of how cool Amdam is- street art designed as a celebration of the city's prostitution industry.