Nice Nice + A Nice Power Ranking

Nice place!!!! Now that we got that pun out of the way – Nice is awesome. Definitely the Mugsy Bogues of Europe thus far, proving that size doesn’t matter and it can still hack it in the league. It’s a quintessential tiny French town with old Frenchies in barrettes carrying baguettes and wheels of cheese in their market bags, and the tiny cobblestone streets wallpapered with colorful clothesline apartments are simultaneously bogged with tourists looking to take cute pictures.

Goose and I made it in on a train that was simultaneously the train from hell and the train from heaven. Heaven was the scenery, the hell part was, quite literally, what I picture the temperature of hell to be. After soiling far too many articles of clothing with sweat and spending about a half hour debating with myself whether it’s socially acceptable to ride trains with my shirt off or not, we made it, and immediately got lost. Once the hostel was located it was strait to the beach. This was an experience. 

Another heaven and hell experience awaited. France apparently does not believe in barefooted beaches, but are strong advocates of bare-topped beaches, which is fine, pending the woman's age. The beach was a pile of rocks, but these ones kept you guessing. Although flat and ideal for skipping, no rock was the same shape or size. So every barefoot step was a miniature surgery minus the anesthesia. Leaving the heavenly water was twenty feet of the most treacherous journey of your life. I collapsed twice next to some French family that was formerly really digging my treading water ability. Crawled back. Goose came back with the same report and an additional claim that he was extra buoyant in the water which, we agreed, could mean one of two things: the water is extra salty, or Goose is extra fat. Gotta be the salt.

This guy on the air mattress has the right idea.

Goose. Total focus on the beach invented by terrorists.

We decided that since we stole our train ride in the afternoon (sorry Mom, you’re welcome Dad’s wallet), we would compensate the Nice economy with a hearty dinner. Hearty for me meant steak with sides of salad and potatoes, hearty for goose meant a bucket of mussels, plate of fries, fillet of beef with salad and potatoes, crème brulé and a bottle of wine. Followed it up with gelato but the selection wasn’t great so it was hard. 104 flavors. Took off andddd good GOD this world is small – ran into a good friend Rachel Weed from BC and her brother. Eagles are taking over Europe.

Proof.

Karaoke bar was the obvious next play. Unfortunately, 60-some greasers there trying to swoon French girls with Italian love operas nobody knew the words to stymied Goose’s attempt at a Spanish solo, so we had to take off.

Power Ranking:
Hostel: 6. Great spot in the “old” part of town (meaning like 300 years old, not 100?), but the shower water which was pumped directly from the arctic penguin tank at Henry Doorly Zoo didn’t help their power rank stats, and the room attempting to compete with the train’s scorching internal temperature made things a bit worse. Combine that with motorcyclists insisting on crushing back alleys at max speeds, which legitimately sounded like someone was taking a weedwacker to my ears, and you don't exactly get ideal sleeping conditions.

Our view/what every street in Nice looks like

Food: 9.5. “The key to my heart is just strait through my stomach. About 65% of my trip’s enjoyment will come from food, 15% from the sites and stuff, and I guess the other 20 from the people I’m with.” So there ya have it – my best friend Goose has spoken! Food is a bigger part of his life than me. Which, at least for this trip, is fine because we have hit jackpots several times over, so he’s at least 65% happy, leaving me responsible for only about 2-3% of his happiness after that if he wants a passing happiness grade. Steaks, mussels, gelatos, and cheesy potatoes were all “like 4 minutes of unmitigated happiness,” as Goose described his morning crepe.

Could any picture do that statement any more justice??? *as Goose French Kisses a mussel*

Sites: 10. Walking around this place is just constant moments of trying to take pictures with my eyes because I’m not going to be a girl that puts up 7,000 pictures in a facebook album after every country. I’ll be more in the 5,000 range.

Best Site: 8.5. The beach. Due to unhindered amounts of pain on the feet, thanks to Marseille previously destroying all means of protection on the bottoms of them, the Best Site lost a couple points. But looking around you and seeing the Mediterranean encompassed by apartment-dotted mountains is never a bad thing.

Nightlife: 7. Didn’t make it out too long due to Rachel and brother John being up since 4:30 a.m. and Goose’s failed Karaoke attempt. But the life is definitely there and streets were crowded into the night. Had to saw off my hand at the wrist and sell it in order to buy a drink though, that was too bad.

A nice 41 from Nice, upsetting Marseille! What a story.

1)   Madrid – 44

2)   Barca – 43.5

3)   Nice – 41

4)   Marseille – 38

5)   Narbonne - 36