Au revoir vieille ville

Yesterday, being our final full day in town, brought glorious weather (the sun was downright intense and hot, but the actual temperature was beautiful at 26C).

We decided to go for a stroll along the heights of the Boulevard du Garavan (where today’s videos are shot from), and through the narrow, winding, “pedestrian only” streets of the old village.

I realized that all of my blogs have failed to show you all what the actual “core” of the village is like. It is made up of these criss-crossing, narrow, winding and exceptionally steep streets. They’d kill you, Diane! Because of the mountain that the village clings to, you are generally walking uphill or downhill almost all the time. The promenade that you see in my photos is actually level land that has been built on fill brought in and claimed from the sea. Most of the town is like this. Locals who live in the area & own cars have to park in collective parking lots and then walk to their houses. This includes things like your groceries and moving!

I don’t know if you’d find it a nuisance or if the charm of it all outweighs that.

I am actually writing this on Wednesday, May 19^th, which is our last day in the Riviera. We leave very early tomorrow morning for our flight: Nice to Paris, Paris to Toronto (volcano permitting). We are currently in our Menton apartment, and are packed. We are taking the train to Nice this afternoon and staying the evening in an airport hotel. I don’t know how much of Nice we’ll actually do, but if there’s something interesting going on I’ll post something again tonight from the hotel.

I’m sorry to report that today is solidly overcast in Menton. It’s settled down a bit now, but this morning we had some rain (!) and amazing wind and gusts that were so strong (blowing down from the mountain) that it toppled the patio furniture!

We’ll be in transit all day tomorrow, so no post then (we’ll be getting up to start our trip home when it’s only 11pm tonight, May 19^th, in Elora!). We are looking forward to seeing our family and friends again and of course our precious little Clousseau. We’ve missed that little boy something terrible.

If you ever have a chance to see the movie “Paris je t’aime” in the very last scene there’s a woman standing in a park. She’s about to leave the city after finally visiting it, which was her life-long dream. She says that she is “… at once, happy but sad.”

I know how she feels.

Au revoir, Riviera. Bonjour Elora!

Hail Mary, full of Grace…

… Is how the novena starts, I believe. Paul seems to have forgotten how to be a Catholic and can’t recite it any more. Not that it’s important.

In addition to a special on Glen Gould on TV last night (by the CBC, nonetheless), there was a report on the evening news saying that people are now stealing items from churches (here many churches are open every day for prayer and tourists) and putting them on e bay.

If that isn’t the saddest, most pathetic comment on today’s society, I don’t know what is.

In addition to all the little chapels that I told you about in an earlier blog, the evidence of Catholicism is everywhere here. Mind you, I believe that France says it’s the “First daughter of the Catholic Church,” so you expect to find it.

You may have to search hard to find them, due to my lack of a zoom lens, but all of today’s photos show various religious symbols on buildings around town. They are all either representation of Mary or Saint Michael (You heard about him earlier). One would be guilty of missing a lot of them, as they are up high or tucked into inconspicuous places. In some ways, as a protestant, they seem both slightly 19^th Century and archaic – but they bring comfort and a constant reminder of faith to those who practice it.

The most impressive one is the large statue of Mary up high on the end of the yellow building (middle photo).

Look closely at it.

Now closer.

Closer again.

Did you notice that she’s faux painted? Did you notice that the entire end of that building is faux painted except for the left & right windows at the very top of the building? I think that is a true work of trompe l’œil if there ever was one. The image of Mary looks like it’s in a niche and that her hand is extended out from her body, beyond the wall. Paul & I argued about it being painted or real one night for about an hour, until we noticed that she casts no shadow. Truly amazing!

We were going to go to Monte Carlo today. However, we decided that with the Grand Prix ending only yesterday, the place would still be bedlam. I don’t think that we’ll go this year, which in a way is sad, because I wanted to share it with you all. We have been several times before, but it’s a unique place (although it looks the same as the rest of the Côte d’Azur), but maybe if we come next year I’ll still be blogging and you can see it all then.

Love to all from the Côte!

Almost the Poseidon Adventure!

Last night about supper time we heard a massive commotion out on the sea. Earlier in the day we saw a beautiful vintage steamer/mast boat moored right off our apartment. About 6:30pm, there was a blare of ship horns. “What’s that?” Paul looked at me and asked. “Sounds like the ship’s pulling out” I said. So we jumped out on the patio to see. What we saw, though, was what I think was probably a real close call to a collision! A MASSIVE cruise ship was far too close to both the shore and the little (okay, smaller) ship – they were BLARING their horns at each other in what sounded like Morse code. It was a real commotion – everyone came out on their balconies to see what the fuss was. I was flabbergasted that the cruise ship (which looked beautiful and brand new, by the looks of it) would have deep enough water to be this close to shore. Even now we can’t believe that they missed each other!

I can’t believe that our holiday will be over this week (volcano permitting). We went shopping this morning and picked Mr. C. up a little stuffed toy souvenir (he gets a treat every time we go away).

We took our morning promenade to Italy this morning. I snapped a photo of the actual border line between the two countries, as well as a video of the little stream and mountains that are right on the border. I’m sorry that the little duck didn’t show up – she was sweet!

Walking home, we passed what has to be the biggest French lavender plant that either of us has seen. Its girth is wider than Paul's outstretched arms. I don’t know if it’ll come out in full bloom before we leave at the end of the week (it’s close!), but if it does I’ll snap another photo for you.

Succulent plans are of course confined to pots at home. Here, cactus’ and other exotics are planted in gardens and planters and thrive (including bird of paradise plants). This pretty blossom was on a cactus plant in front of a real estate agency that we were passing. It was a large blossom – no scent to speak of, though.

Every morning we pass a fellow who delivers baguettes from a local bakery to the restaurants that line the private beaches on Garavan bay. I finally managed to snap a photo of his highly technical delivery system, although unfortunately today the baguettes weren’t sticking out of the top of the paper bag the way that they normally do.

Weather continues to be stunning. We’ve been watching the forecast for home and it’s calling for sunny & warm when we get home on Thursday!

Until tomorrow!

I don't have a title for todays blog...

“This isn’t what I ordered” Paul said to me the other night, as the waiter placed his pizza in front of him.

Looking at it, I knew it was a pizza that we wouldn’t have ordered, because it had big chunks of fatty sausage on it, something that he wouldn’t eat. “Tell the guy this isn’t what I ordered,” he continued.

Now, I know enough French to get around, but “This isn’t what my friend ordered” is not part of every day chit chat.

Paul, getting a waiter’s attention, finally made it understood that the pizza in front of him was not the one he had ordered. The waiter politely brought him a menu and showed him that the pizza matched the one he had ordered exactly. “But it’s not the same as the one I ordered last week!” He expressed to me in an exasperated tone. Finally, the waiter took a new order from him and brought him a new pizza – a 4 cheese one instead of the spicy one he had ordered.

When we left the restaurant, I looked at the menu that was posted outside. Turns out the pizza he wanted and the pizza he ordered were two totally different things!

Nice head.

Anyway, we got up this morning and there was this beautiful and large 3 mast cruise ship in the harbour. It’s one of those ones that cruises the Mediterranean with only about 25 couples. Sigh, what a nice idea!

Today’s slice of Menton comes from the pretty square surrounding the city hall. Really gives you more of a sense of Italy than France. As we strolled there, we passed this really great old Citroën truck that looks like its right out of the 1940's -more like a tank than a van. I like how I was able to catch the reflection the building across from it in the windshield.

Another gorgeous day, by the way.

The last photo today is for Anita – I know she knows the McCain’s – here we are in the land of the frite – and in the frozen food section of the grocery store are McCain’s frozen fries!

The world needs more Canada.

What a glorious day!

Yesterday (Friday) was glorious weather (as is today, Saturday), so I'm just dashing off a quick note to let everyone know know that we're alive and well in the sunny Cote d'Azur! The pics will speak for themselves, I'm sure.

Yes, we've turned into "ice cream lickers" while we're here!

The shadow pic is for Carolyn. More tomorrow!

A day at the Harbour

Today’s blog comes to you from the beautiful harbour at Garavan bay, and is for Don Fisher – enjoy Don!

I’ve been searching the web like crazy, trying to find a pleasure-cruise company that offers a 4 hr or half day cruise along the Cote D’Azur, perhaps taking us from Menton as far as St. Tropez or even Cannes, offering a light lunch and cocktails, and then returning us home. I’m not looking for an on/off sort of thing, just a round-trip cruise. Apparently no such thing exists (at this time of year or ever). There are some boats that make mini excursions from Nice later in the year, but nothing that offers what I’m thinking of. I think I’ve come up with a good idea to keep me here…

Anyway, just last week you saw a video of the waves crashing on the shore in an awesome display of the power of the sea. Today, from the very same place, comes a more placid and tranquil report.

There are 2 ports in town, one deeper water for the bigger boats, and the smaller, shallower one, for pleasure craft. In the video of the shallow port, I mistakenly say "Ascension Sunday." It was, of course, Ascension Thursday.

I have to admit that I don’t know a great deal about boats, but watching them at sea, I can’t help but compare them in my mind to ballerinas. The serene beauty of their motion does not give a hint to the complexity that lay underneath. They silently and regally move across the surface of the ocean in a seamless, fluid motion. The sight of the sun shimmering on the sea, punctuated here and there by the passing of a well-maintained boat is pleasing to the eye, and beckons you out on the water, even if you don’t have a clue what to do in order to operate one.

Maybe it was the fact that we had a drop-dead gorgeous day, but the marina is just the neatest place to hang out. Our favourite restaurant sits among these yachts (we resisted the temptation to stop in for lunch, though), and the place has a bit of a quiet bustle about it. Here and there a boat automatically discharges its ballast (and I suppose takes on new) and you can hear the crackling sound of the ropes under stress as the boats bob to and fro. A woman is listening to the radio as she sits on the deck and sips a cup of coffee and reads her morning paper, and a fellow is whistling as he scrubs the deck.

There are yachts and boats of various sizes and registrations here (including Lichtenstein!), including the very small and the exceptionally large. It’s great to see them all moored up and glistening in the sun. I love the verticality of the masts as they reach into the cloudless sky, silently and patiently waiting for their owner and come and unfurl them to catch the next zephyr and take them to uncharted territory or a new adventure.

No “Aye Maytees” here and “A yo ho ho and a bottle of rum” there.

This is a very civilized place to be indeed.

Not Another Holiday Part I

I told you that May was the holiday month in France.

Today (May 13^th) is Ascension Day here – the day that it is believed that Christ was raised up to heaven to be with God.

According to the French, that means that you need the day off work. And probably Friday, too.

I don’t know if I’m all with that religious stuff – but Paul and I thought it was a fitting excuse to pop up to the (lower) cemetery here in Town. The finest views in all of Menton are from the heights of the 2 cemeteries.

The one that all the photos are from today are the Vieux Châteaux cemetery. Apparently once upon a time there was Châteaux on this spot, that by Napoleonic times had had become pretty dilapidated. Napoleon declared that no more bodies were to be buried within town limits (as a measure of hygiene). Although Menton didn’t become part of France until 1860, they joined the band-wagon, tore the old Châteaux down and started burying people here instead.

This is a most fascinating place of tranquility, profound beauty and history. It is the final resting place of the every-day person, Princes, Paupers, French, Italian, Russian, American, Canadian (!), British… they’re all here if you look hard enough.

Once upon a time, the Riviera was a popular place to go to escape the malaise of various diseases, like tuberculosis. It doesn’t seem to have worked so well, though, because the cemeteries are full of people who died in their 20’s and 30’s, most likely from the various diseases that they came here to recuperate from.

While there is Royalty and Nobility buried here, most people who visit are coming to see a small and simple grave that you would walk past and not notice if it weren’t for all the attention that it gets. It is situated on a bend on a terraced part of the cemetery, on the west side, and gets just a little bit of sun every day.

That grave belongs to William Webb Ellis. He invented the game of Rugby, and his grave is covered with remembrances from people all over the world – literally - including Chile, Australia and South Africa! It is a shrine to all the dedicated fans of the sport that come from all corners of the world to pay their respects to the inventor of their passion. There is a major memorial to him at the gates, and several signs direct you to his final resting place.

The Russian chapel, which dominates the lower cemetery, belongs to Alexandrine de Tapliakoff, who died in Menton in 1884. This beautiful chapel also contains the remains of Prince Troubetzkoy (1822-1892). No less than 6 princes of the Russian Royal house are buried in Menton. The photo of Paul in front of it we snapped for Anthea – it shows Paul getting in touch with his “eastern roots.”

The cemeteries also give you an interesting sense of the French (and more so Italian) rights around death. Cemeteries here are not like at home. Many of the plots are fenced with the most beautiful iron fences; some are built with chapels including stained-glass and domes! They have a peculiar habit of purchasing these unattractive ceramic arrangements of flowers to leave on the tombs as permanent memorials – but of course here, they don’t have to worry about snow in the “winter.” On certain anniversaries of a person’s death, they place these little marble markers on a tomb with words of thanks, and they even write letters to the departed and leave them there. Interesting, and a testament to their unwavering Catholic faith.

So here they rest for eternity. As I say several times in my videos, not a bad place to spend it. I’m going to post several photos and videos. Be sure to see the photos of the Canadians from Toronto, Cobourg and Québec. See the posting below this one for more photos from up there.

Rest in Peace.

Not Another Holiday Part II

More Photos and videos from the cemetery!

Mumbo Italiano

Everyone goes to Italy to buy fresh pasta.

Right?

Spurred on by our successful trip to Nice yesterday, we decided that the thing to do for a pasta supper tonight was to go to Italy to buy some fresh pasta.

Off to the train station we went, this time to buy a ticket in the opposite direction, to Ventimiglia, Italy, which is the last stop on the TER, The Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur railway line (or if you live in Italy, the first, I suppose). Anyway, we were running a little late to catch the next train (the station is up a very steep hill), but with a little brute force we managed to catch it, so we didn’t have to wait for the next train, which would be about a half hour. A round-trip ticket cost only E3.80!

A pleasant 8 minutes later, we were getting off the train in Ventimiglia. If you want to know more about the place, you can visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ventimiglia

I hate to be brutal, but it really isn’t much of a place per se. Its main claim to fame is that it has a massive Friday flea market, notorious for selling designer knock-offs at cut-rate prices. This area abounds with rumours of tourists being charged for purchasing such item (which is indeed illegal) and receiving hefty fines for it (which there are).

Another thing that I have noticed is that Italians seems to have a penchant for what Paul calls “romantic decay.” I’m more honest and just call it shabby. Just a few minutes away, in the French Riviera, the buildings are spiffier and the streets cleaner. The buildings in Ventimiglia (although some are restored) are generally in poor condition, even though they are of similar vintage as the ones in Menton. The streets and corners of buildings seem to accumulate litter, and the joy of Graffiti has not been lost on the Italian youth.

The centre of town is dominated by the Municipal building, which appears to be a text-book study of Mussolini-esque/Soviet architecture. I quite frankly found it frightening and somehow expected to hear the howl of imprisoned dissidents emanating from some basement window. Quickly passing by, we ducked into the market. Now this, I have to say, as far as size and variety goes, beats the Menton covered market by a fair bit. There was a vast selection of pasta, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, meats (including a horse butcher!) and flowers.

I won’t even tell you about the bathroom. Suffice yo say the ones I used in Istanbul were of higher quality. Ahem.

Deciding to leave the market we found a wonderful pasta shop that made and sold only fresh pasta and home made sauces (The kitchen was open and you could look right in and see them making it. There was only ever a few grams worth in the chillers at any time to buy. Now that’s fresh!) Using our almost non-existent Italian, we managed to purchase some cheese filled raviolis. We were going to get their home made arrabiata sauce, which she refused to sell to us. She insisted (!) that we take this concentrated white sauce, which we didn’t know what it was. We decided to trust her, and we purchased it along with a little box of some sort of cream that she told us to mix with it in order to make the sauce.

Being in Italy, we decided to stop for Pizza for lunch, which was quite delicious, and some cappuccinos. A very fine cappuccino indeed, with a crema so thick my spoon was almost able to stand up on its own! Noticing the time, we dashed for the train station.

Uh oh.

Our train and the next train were both “Sopresso.” Cancelled.

“WTF! I exclaimed to Paul… how do we get home now?” After a conversation amongst ourselves for quite a while, we began to get worried that the third train from France (which would be more then 1.5 hours later) would also be cancelled (we surmised there were issues with the rails, not a break-down in the trains).

Deciding to bite the bullet, we jumped in a cab.

The pasta from Italy was delicious – as was the bottle of Prosecco we bought to go with it.

Thank goodness they were – the cab ride was 30E!

Nice is nice

Nice is nice

Yesterday morning we woke to the clear, bright sunny sky that we love so much about being here. Unfortunately, on the horizon, there was a rather black cloud coming down off the mountain that threatened to turn a beautiful morning into something less.

We started out on our morning promenade and decided to postpone our trip into Nice, to visit the antiques market, as it wasn’t going to be all that nice. However, I had sort of been looking forward to it, as for the first half of the trip we’ve been staying close to home (not that there’s anything wrong with that, either), and I was itching to use some of my French phrases to buy the tickets from the stationmaster who can’t speak a word of English.

The great thing about being on holidays is that you can change your mind and nobody gives a damn.

We just decided that it was time to uproot and get out and about, so off to Nice we went.

Menton has 2 train stations, Garavan (our train station) and Menton Ville (in the heart of town). I’m pleased to say that I purchased our round-trip tickets with no problem, and even understood that we had to validate our ticket in the little machine as we exited the station for the platform.

Garavan station is this little one-room station that is right out of the first world war. The stationmaster actually lives in the quarters attached to & above the station, and sort of appears about 15 minutes before each train is due to arrive to see if there’s anyone around who wants to buy a ticket.

The train actually originates in Ventimiglia, Italy, and runs all the way to Cannes. Anyway, we were soon being whisked along in air conditioned comfort to Nice. We had the most spectacular views of the coast, including a stop in Monaco (another blog about that when we go in a few days), a place that we both love but find far too busy to stay in.

Upon arrival in Nice Ville station, we made our way on foot about 2 or 3 kilometers to the Cours Sareya. We went via Avenue Jean Médecin, which is a pedestrian only street with a tram that runs up & down the middle. We eventually found ourselves in the Place Masséna, which is the former open market & town square. A few years ago it underwent a massive, multi-million Euro renovation. The jury is still out about its success (if anything, its wayyyyyy too big with far too much pavement. There’s a really nice park at the one end, but the square is massive and you feel sort of like a sitting duck as you cross it. It must be able to hold thousands of people).

Anyway, we got to the market (I was specifically looking for the paper dealer with the cruise-ship menus, as blogged earlier), and, despite its massive size and variety, ended up leaving without a thing.

That didn’t really matter, though, as it had turned into one of the finest days that we’ve had weather wise since we arrived. The sky cleared completely and the sun was intense with a gentle breeze in the air.

We strolled around for a while and decided to stop at a traiteur for lunch. Traiteurs are a peculiarity here in France (and maybe elsewhere in Europe). They are almost always Asian cuisine (Chinese/Thai), and you go in and all the food is all ready prepared and on display in chiller cabinets. It’s a real challenge if you don’t parlez-vous, but you go in and tell the person behind the counter that you want this, that and the other, and she dolls them out on various plates. You can get it to go and heat it up at home, but the real fun comes from eating in. They have this super-deluxe heater (I don’t think they’re micro-waves, because the food doesn’t dry out or get soggy), and the gal throws everything in and in a few minutes, you get a hot and surprisingly fresh meal. We had a feast including a carafe of wine, and it was only 11E for the two of us. Very economical and quite edible.

Across the street we saw a sign for the hotel Canada (!), which I photographed (but might not post, as it was small and way up high, and my lack of a zoom lens made it almost impossible to photograph).

After consulting the train time table in my pocket, we decided to catch the 2:30 train home, as the next one didn’t come until 3:30. In true French fashion, we were told that it would depart from platform D. At 2:30 a train pulled into platform A, heading east. Yup, they changed the platform. They didn’t post it on the sign, they announced it. Good thing I understood!

Sorry that some of today’s photos have a bit of a haze – I found out when I got home and downloaded the pics that my lens was smudged!

Top photo: Garavan Train Station. Second: Sign post in Nice. Third: View of the market. Fourth: Lamp post on the Nice Opera House. Fifth: Nice Ville Train Station

Post #2 - Read down for "post of the day"

Diane wants to know what the interior of the apartment looks like. Hope these do the trick!