|War memorial, Nice|
The French government gave money to communities to honour their first world war dead and Nice, with more than 4000 victims of the conflict, created a serene memorial which has been built into the headland. I can think of only the Hall of Rememberence in Canberra for one which might surpass it. Being on the headland, it is visible out into the Mediterranean.
We bypassed most of the port - if you've seen a collection of expensive boats in Monte Carlo, there's no point looking elsewhere - and took a back road, through the shade, to the Place Garibaldi. Along the way, we passed some very high priced antique shops.
|Nice fish market|
In the centre of the fish market, a fountain with three large fish sprouting water into the surrounding basin, marks the purpose of the small square.
Beggars marked the start and finish of this long lane of small businesses. It's so difficult bypassing them but we have been warned often that to engage them is dangerous and raising the possibility of personal robbery, because standing nearby, someone sees where you retrieve your money from. Even so, it goes very much against our nature, so I prepared early and dropped some coins in his cloth cap so nonchalantly not even Sue noticed. His murmured merci bouquet brother left me ashamed.
Lunch was taken at our only return eatery of the week and this time we were served by an Englishman from Dorset. Having spent the previous week with a Kiwi, I figured they had similar interests. Great food again but they over priced us for the wine.
|The sweep of beaches|
We returned to our room only just in time to field a frantic phone call from son Sam, who had been subjected to a phone scam. At the other end of the line, a voice speaking in another language went on and on and by the third phone call trying to reach us, with Sam unable to communicate, he was worried that something had happened to us. At 2:00am, its not surprising he took the speaker for French. After trying my mobile, which would have been ringing helplessly on the desk in our room, he eventually caught us on the hotel phone as we walked into the room. Poor lad had received a terrible fright.
We turned the room upside down tonight because Sue had lost a white top. It wasn't expensive but she wanted to wear it under a lovely sheer white dress she bought yesterday. After looking in every conceivable place and even discussing whether the domestic staff might have inadvertently taken it with the towels, Sue discovered it hanging in the wardrobe, under the white dress. There's just nothing I can add.
The opera is in town tonight and a tenor is shaking our windows from next door. Meanwhile, a busker is standing on the corner telling the world that her boots are made for walking.
I wish they would.
Back to Paris tomorrow.