Wednesday 9 September - Nice

Sally had suffered a bit of a sleepless night, as she had realised that the Air NZ booking to get her from Auckland to Nelson was a day early. This had been booked by me in a rush on a cheap deal from Air NZ. As a travel agent I haven't done all that well on this trip – a casualty of the pressure before we left I suppose, or just plain incompetence!

Early alarm this morning to allow us time to see things on the way to Nice Airport, where Sally was due 2:30pm at the latest (a late check-in as we had checked her in online the previous night).  Away by 8:30, allowing the GPS to send us on the autostrada, as we didn't fancy the long drag through little towns to Ventimiglia again. Crossing the border is such a non-event now, only marked by the payment of 4€ in road tolls into a coin hopper. Arrived into Nice at 10am, and after a bit of mucking around the streets (the GPS got a bit lost for once) we parked in a parking building. Tiny little spaces, and horribly tight getting into them. Most involve one side of the car being jammed up against either another car, or a wall or a column. Owning a large car here would be a curse.

Loved the feel of Nice. We had cunningly parked right next to the long Avenue Jean Medecin that led to the Promenade des Anglais, the beachfront walk. Stopped at a stall for a pastry and a coffee – the sidewalk cafes are frighteningly expensive, as this is a swanky part of town with shops like Galerie Lafayette. The avenue led us through a lovely public area with sculpture, a big and active fountain, and flash trams passing through, then down to the waterfront. Remarkably open and uncrowded, but mainly because there is so much space. The beach is a mix of private and public areas, quite a number of people sunbathing despite it being quite overcast today. There are some gruesome sights, both on the beach and around the streets. A number of old, seriously old, French women dressed up, with crepe-paper tired brown skin, tight facelifts and excessive makeup. Also some very well-dressed women, including one on stunning 4" heels. They have fancy rental bikes that you pick up from electronic stations, complete with locks.

We headed back to the car for the 2 hour mark on the carpark (6€), then off to the airport to drop off Sally. It's very close to Nice, and appears to be totally reclaimed, as it sits off the coast when you see it from afar. Pulled into the "kiss and fly" carpark, a kiss and a hug for Sally, and we were on our own! Quite a different feel, just having the two of us.

We'd enjoyed Nice, so we thought we would head back through it, so from the airport headed the full length of the promenade, but without finding a convenient carpark until we got to the port. Quite a small port considering the size of the city, with a couple of big ferries (Nice-Corsica), many flash small to large launches, and one stunningly immense launch, maybe 200 feet long. Wandered around for a bit, had an average milkshake, and bought some groceries from a nearby supermarket, before continuing east along the coast on the coastal road.

On leaving Nice, we headed for the Grande Corniche, the highest of the three parallel coastal roads that offer great views of Cannes, Nice, Menton and points between Part way long came across a lovely garden where we sat to chill out for a bit, overlooking the lovely settlement of Cap Ferrat. Some incredible mansions below us, with pools and massive gardens. Went through the little hilltop village of Eze, which I had planned to see sometime. Didn't stop though, as we felt we had seen more hilltoppy villages in Italy. The road then took us down for a trip through Monaco. I seem to remember missing Monaco in 1982 (sleeping on the train!), but this time we went right through the middle of it. Not tempted to stop – it was just another affluent French town as far as we could make out. Next town was Menton, where we topped up our diesel for the first time since midway up Italy, as diesel is cheaper in France than Italy. The wee Peugeot is pretty efficient though, so diesel is the least of our costs.

Set the GPS back onto toll roads, so we could get back to San Remo easily and find our way up the hills to Ceriana.

Tonight's entertainment in the piazza was a bit more varied, and a lot more fun. It was a mix of various local performers – a junior choir, two accordionistas, a poet and a man reciting something we never grasped. The first accordionista was clearly a local favourite, as he got a lot of cheers on starting. Very strong voice, and when he had finished, he was required by the locals to do an encore, which was of course O Sole Mio. The second accordionista sang in a completely different way, possibly in Sicilian dialect from what I could gather.

All three night's performances have been compèred by a slightly chubby local. He does prattle on, about twice as much as would be generous, in fact probably three times as much. As it is all in Italian, we found it less than enlightening. Tonight I was picking up most of his words, but not yet quick enough to string them together into understood sentences.

All in all, four enjoyable evenings in a row, with a break for another two at the weekend.