Tour of the Alps 2002

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Day 9: 29 June 2002: Surviving Nice-ly

I awoke in the morning feeling refreshed. I also awoke knowing that I was going to be on my own for the rest of my stay in France, as Keith and his family were leaving Nice this morning for a gite near Grasse. They were staying in France another week or more. Kirk and Judy were going to Grasse, too, and then on to Avignon for a few days before going back to the U.S. I planned on seeing Kirk and Judy as they were going to drop off the rest of my stuff before leaving, but I didn't have any specific plans about seeing Keith and family. I decided that I'd skip riding today, try to get used to Nice and see whether my French had improved enough so that I wouldn't starve, end up in jail or married to a poodle.

First things being first, I went out in search of breakfast and indulged myself in a croissant and a brioche aux raisins. I smuggled this back to my room, in typical American fashion ignoring the injunction about having no food in the rooms, and channel surfed television programs in French, Italian and Nicoise. My TV was a little erratic in function, but eventually found that there was a BBC World News Service channel too!

I walked around town after breakfast and found an English-language book store, where I bought a collection of Dashell Hammet novels- thick enough to keep me entertained for a few days and the long train ride back to Paris. It might have been an subconscious attempt to prepare myself for returning to the U.S. by reading one of the most "American" of authors. I also scouted out the location of the train station to catch the TGV back to Paris and estimated how long it would take to get there from the hotel with my luggage in hand. The Tourist Office was located at the gare and I checked their offerings, which were not much different than those available at the hotel.

I saw lots of young Americans with backpacks in the crowd, walking down the street talking in loud American voices. They seemed kind of gauche and irritating; I wondered if my American-ness was also so readily apparent and concluded that, sadly, it probably was. No-one in France had taken me for anything but an American so far! I also found a papeterie where I indulged one of my other hobbies and bought a Waterman fountain pen as a souvenir. The woman in the shop was very skilled and it was clear that selling a fountain pens was nothing unusual- unlike buying one in the U.S. where the counter staff usually haven't the slightest idea how a fountain pen works. The pen was about 20% cheaper than at home, even with the 17.5% VAT.

Nice has an abundance of street food, most of it quite good. I found lunch that way- the street vendors are closed by supper time. Afterwards, their sidewalk spaces are taken up by people selling trinkets set out on blankets. In the afternoon, Kirk and Judy came by the hotel with my luggage. A quick goodbye and then they were off to Grasse and then Avignon, and I had France to myself so to speak. I was sorry to see them go, as Keith, Kirk and Judy were among the most congenial traveling companions I have ever had. I spent the afternoon reading, eating, finding a cybercafe and sending e-mails, wandering around Nice, etc.

Day 10: 30 June 2002: Taking the "Eze" way out.

Today it was time to get back on the bike. I got my bike out of the storage area and rode down the avenue Jean de Medicin through the tangle of streets to the sea front. The Mediterranean was, indeed, Mediterranean blue and not quite as crowded as it would be in a week or so, once the tourist season really hit its stride. I rode along the beach front walkway for a few blocks and then turned inland, looking for the Col d'Eze - my last goal for riding in France- and the Grand Corniche, and possibly south to Menton at the Italian border.

I had remarkably good luck in that I found the avenue des Diable Bleus by accident. In Nice, the streets seemed to change names every kilometer, and this was the case here with the name changing to the avenue Bischoffschein. The road climbed up above Nice at a gentle, steady grade and was certainly much less steep than, say, l'Alpe-d'Huez. In fact, I was disappointed at how easy the climb was given its reputation in cycling magazines- although I was not of course riding at race pace which can make any hill difficult.

Skirting Mont Vinaigrier and Mont Gros, passing under the Observatory (which was hidden from view), I came out onto the Grand Corniche high above the Mediterranean. The road wound past homes of the obviously wealthy and also through unpretentious stucco houses with deep red tile roofs; above Eze, there was a park and I rode up through the groves of trees and past family picnics to the end of the park road, where I was able to look in one direction back towards the high Alps and in the other out towards Monaco, Italy and the sea. It was very quiet and refreshing after the bustle of Nice's streets and I spent almost an hour there, reluctant to leave and descend back into the maelstrom of les voitures et les gens of Nice. It was a nice ride back to the Grand Corniche, passing several other cyclists on their way up the road into the park.

Returning to the Grand Corniche, I turned left and rode to La Turbie, where suddenly the traffic volume skyrocketed with cars, pedestrians, people yelling to each other, etc. A bit shocked and again a little reluctant to be involved in busy society, I bought a banana and a bottle of water at a sidewalk store and basked in the sun for a bit, before turning back up the Grand Corniche and returning to Nice. I decided to bag going all the way to Menton or to cross into Italy along the Med, not wanting to deal with the crowds and the traffic. I descended the hill, retracing my path, musing on the contrasts of France and that this was part of the fun of riding there. Of course I got lost in Nice's one-way streets and spent about a half an hour trying to find my way back to the Hotel Amaryllis. The local tourist map of Nice was pretty accurate and, other than running afoul of one way streets and road construction, it wasn't too hard to get back. Putting my bike in storage, I went back to my room, showered and changed; then I got my bike bag and went down to the storage area to pack up my bike. I felt sad to be done with riding in France but was starting to look forward to Paris and then being home in Minnesota.

27.45 miles (44 km) in 2:12:41.

On to Day 11