Well, at least for the morning. Having dragged ourselves into the light by our normal 11 am, we decided the call of the Musee Chagall, just round the corner according to the map, was too strong to resist. Sensibly, we opted for the bus as, although it was only 2 stops, they were a couple of hundred metres above where we started - not good news even for my ever improving ankle.
Almost forgot to mention - today was day 4 of the strapping so, based on what the doctor/nurse had said, it was time to test it. So we cut off the strapping and decided to chance it! Movement was improved but a bit disappointing as I'd hoped for a miracle cure. Still,progress of a sort.
Anyway, back to Chagall - who even I had heard of! The museum was based around his interpretation of parts of the Bible - predominantly the Old Testament - of which he reportedly became very fond, as he had grown up as a Jewish child in Russia. To cut to the quick, neither Carol nor I got it. We appreciated some of the skill, particularly of the stained glass windows, but felt rather flat about the pictures themselves. Still, we'd given them a go and, if nothing else, it made us resolve to visit the church at Tudeley which has all its stained glass windows designed by Chagall!
We stayed to have lunch in the garden of the museum - basic stuff at extravagant prices! - then caught the bus into town to do the shopping for bits and pieces to take home. We started in Galeries Lafayette on Place Massena - biscuits, foie gras and, pleasant surprise, Raz el Hanout, my spice mix of the moment.
Then it was up Jean Medecin, a real battle wth all the kids out of school/college and in groups going the opposite way, to Monoprix where chocolates and more biscuits were acquired. Etcetera, etcetera!
Come 5.30, we were ensconced in our usual seats at AKAThor drinking our usual libations. 3 of them and we were fit for gnocchi and ratatouille at home.
Then reading, drinking wine and, finally, off to bed!
A demain!
Friday 3 October 2008
Thursday 2 October 2008
Carol takes the plunge
Tuesday! What did we do today?
Well, we decided today was a Nice day (note the capitalisation) and also a day when I would attempt to get by without my crutches. Looking back, a degree of success on both fronts. It was also the day we decided to try the local delicacy - Socca.
After our usual slow start, we headed down to the port area by bus and proceeded to look for Chez Pipo, a restaurant we'd been told (by Timeo's parents - remember him?) was the best for Socca. We found it and found it didn't open until 5.30! So we set off for the town. Eventually, we came to Place Garibaldi, which had been coccooned in Heras fencing last time we were here during the completion of the tramway. On the corner, we found a cafe/restaurant that sold Socca, pissaladiere and beer - just the ticket. It turns out Socca is a pancake made with chick pea flour and olive oil - served with black pepper! Despite this, it actually tasted OK and was a good portion for lunch.
It was then time to hit the Promenade des Anglais. We promeneered for a while then we settled down for a lengthy stay near to Opera Plage (and conveniently close to the conveniences!). People watching is the thing to do here and there are lots of people worth watching.........for all sorts fo reasons! After a short while, Carol could resist the lure of the water no more so it was off to the public toilets to change into the gear. I decided my time was best spent in reserving our seats and looking after our belongings!
Off she went (with beach shoes on to protect her feet from the pebbles and sharp sand) and had what looked to be a fabulous time swimming up and down the beach for some 20 minutes or so. When she came back, she reported the water as "lovely" - she always does!! However, she admitted it was freezing to start with but then got better - I've heard that before, as well!
By now,we had decided we would stay in town until dinner time and then go to L'Acciardo, a little restaurant we had been to last time and which was highly recommended by Timeo's parents. We mooched about the old town, resting my foot on occasions (usually easing the pain with a beer or two!) before eventually reaching the restaurant.
Having made no reservation, we had to take pot luck and ended up on a table between 2 couples - on one side, a young French couple (he from Calais but now resident in Nice; she from Nice), on the other side, a couple from southern California, near San Diego. Good conversation flowed with the wine, intermixed French and English, and good food (petits farcis and foie de veau for Carol, assiette de charcuterie and foie de veau for me) - our Californian neighbour, Lawrence, also demonstrated how to make a red rose out of a red paper napkin. A good time had by all!
By the time we had finished, it was too late to catch the bus so we caught the tram to the gare and took a taxi home from there - a complete rip off at €10 but, hey, we were home!
Another good day and my foot seemed OK - we'll see in the morning!
Dormez bien!
Well, we decided today was a Nice day (note the capitalisation) and also a day when I would attempt to get by without my crutches. Looking back, a degree of success on both fronts. It was also the day we decided to try the local delicacy - Socca.
After our usual slow start, we headed down to the port area by bus and proceeded to look for Chez Pipo, a restaurant we'd been told (by Timeo's parents - remember him?) was the best for Socca. We found it and found it didn't open until 5.30! So we set off for the town. Eventually, we came to Place Garibaldi, which had been coccooned in Heras fencing last time we were here during the completion of the tramway. On the corner, we found a cafe/restaurant that sold Socca, pissaladiere and beer - just the ticket. It turns out Socca is a pancake made with chick pea flour and olive oil - served with black pepper! Despite this, it actually tasted OK and was a good portion for lunch.
It was then time to hit the Promenade des Anglais. We promeneered for a while then we settled down for a lengthy stay near to Opera Plage (and conveniently close to the conveniences!). People watching is the thing to do here and there are lots of people worth watching.........for all sorts fo reasons! After a short while, Carol could resist the lure of the water no more so it was off to the public toilets to change into the gear. I decided my time was best spent in reserving our seats and looking after our belongings!
Off she went (with beach shoes on to protect her feet from the pebbles and sharp sand) and had what looked to be a fabulous time swimming up and down the beach for some 20 minutes or so. When she came back, she reported the water as "lovely" - she always does!! However, she admitted it was freezing to start with but then got better - I've heard that before, as well!
By now,we had decided we would stay in town until dinner time and then go to L'Acciardo, a little restaurant we had been to last time and which was highly recommended by Timeo's parents. We mooched about the old town, resting my foot on occasions (usually easing the pain with a beer or two!) before eventually reaching the restaurant.
Having made no reservation, we had to take pot luck and ended up on a table between 2 couples - on one side, a young French couple (he from Calais but now resident in Nice; she from Nice), on the other side, a couple from southern California, near San Diego. Good conversation flowed with the wine, intermixed French and English, and good food (petits farcis and foie de veau for Carol, assiette de charcuterie and foie de veau for me) - our Californian neighbour, Lawrence, also demonstrated how to make a red rose out of a red paper napkin. A good time had by all!
By the time we had finished, it was too late to catch the bus so we caught the tram to the gare and took a taxi home from there - a complete rip off at €10 but, hey, we were home!
Another good day and my foot seemed OK - we'll see in the morning!
Dormez bien!
Wednesday 1 October 2008
Let the train take the strain
Monday was a day for a day out. The mountains were calling us. So, off on the bus to Jean Medecin to then take a tram to Liberation - close to the Gare des chemins de fer de Provence. This is a narrow gauge railway that runs trains up into the hinterland way behind the cote d'azur - it's also known as the Train des Pignes and runs, ultimately, to Dignes les Bains - a 3.5 hour journey.
Given our usual attention to detail, we weren't ready to travel until the 1250 train so decided to only go as far as an old mediaeval town called Entrevaux, formerly a stronghold on the border between France and Savoy - we're talking before Italy was created as a country, here!
We had our first moment worthy of comment as we were buying our tickets - we heard the lady behind the guichet say something about "cinquante cinq" (55). Not being sure what she was on about, Carol simply said "Cinquante cinq, oui?". Nothing more was said and we paid the €27 asked for. It was only later, looking at our tickets, that we realised we'd been asked if we were 55 or more, as that is the break point for old people's prices! So I was travelling fraudulently! Carol, of course, obeyed the letter of the law! (Like the subtle phrasing?!)
Only a few minutes late, off we set. There were stops in the strangest places - next to a lamp post, behind a hedge, etc - or so it seemed as we wended our way out of Nice through cuttings and tunnels. A unique feature, at least to me, was the idea of "arret facultatif"- essentially a request stop - if you want to get on the train, you put your hand out!!
Once we'd cleared Nice and its suburbs, we were into pretty wild country - high peaks, villages perchees, all the time travelling alongside the river Var, occasionally stopping at some bush or other to let people on and off. The train was pretty cramped - we were towing a carriage but nobody seemed to be using it! SouthEastern trains it wasn't!
Eventually, we reached Entrevaux where the station is, of course, down the hill from the town. So clutching crutches (?) we set off up the incline to the bridge across the river that takes you into the old town through the Porte Royale. This was a town that had been fortified by Vauban, a general of King Louis XIV who was one of the first to get frequent traveller status - he fortified just about every town of any consequence in France. Once into the town, it was all narrow winding streets that we followed, initially, to the cathedral which also formed part of the fortifications. Very French Catholic of its time with an amazing amount of decoration for such a relatively plain town. We carried on round the town finding that one of the common themes was that everything was ferme! We also came across the old town baking oven where a tableau had been put together which, upon pressing a button, scared Carol witless!
Having exhausted the charms of the old town, we went looking for a bite of lunch. There was a bar open that had no food! Another place was a restaurant where we couldn't be sure we'd have had our food by the time the train was due to leave (plus it was more than we wanted to eat, or pay!). Finally, we tried a little empty bar where Monsieur was happy to make us a sandwich. Ham for Carol, saucisson for me - it turned out he'd used the last of his bread to make them so noone else could get any! Washed down with a small beer and costing a total of €11.40 for two, it really hit the spot.
Then back to the station to wait for the return journey. Whilst waiting, we fell into conversation with a couple from Keighley who, it turned out, were here for the first time and were not sure they'd made the best selection of accomodation. We told them our story and they took a note of the Primary Rentals details - wonder if we should bid for commission? They'd also rented a car which, where they were staying was almost essential but it meant they struggled to get into Nice because of the traffic. We shared our experiences with public transport etc and they said they'd probably follow our lead next time.
We ended up sitting with them on our return journey - they were members of a church in Keighley which was struggling - in the middle of an Islamic community with an ageing congregation - how lucky we are at St Stephen's! They agreed.
We continued chatting till they reached their stop at Lingostiere, close to the Centre Commercial.
Once we reached Nice, it was a tram to vieille ville and a couple of beers - who says I'm a creature of habit? Then home for ravioli in home made tomato sauce (had to have 2 goes at this as the first lot of shallots got crispy whilst, a) I was on Skype to my Dad and b) Carol was glued to the TV again). Silent supper!
Then mooched about for a little while then off to sleep again.
Bon nuit!
Given our usual attention to detail, we weren't ready to travel until the 1250 train so decided to only go as far as an old mediaeval town called Entrevaux, formerly a stronghold on the border between France and Savoy - we're talking before Italy was created as a country, here!
We had our first moment worthy of comment as we were buying our tickets - we heard the lady behind the guichet say something about "cinquante cinq" (55). Not being sure what she was on about, Carol simply said "Cinquante cinq, oui?". Nothing more was said and we paid the €27 asked for. It was only later, looking at our tickets, that we realised we'd been asked if we were 55 or more, as that is the break point for old people's prices! So I was travelling fraudulently! Carol, of course, obeyed the letter of the law! (Like the subtle phrasing?!)
Only a few minutes late, off we set. There were stops in the strangest places - next to a lamp post, behind a hedge, etc - or so it seemed as we wended our way out of Nice through cuttings and tunnels. A unique feature, at least to me, was the idea of "arret facultatif"- essentially a request stop - if you want to get on the train, you put your hand out!!
Once we'd cleared Nice and its suburbs, we were into pretty wild country - high peaks, villages perchees, all the time travelling alongside the river Var, occasionally stopping at some bush or other to let people on and off. The train was pretty cramped - we were towing a carriage but nobody seemed to be using it! SouthEastern trains it wasn't!
Eventually, we reached Entrevaux where the station is, of course, down the hill from the town. So clutching crutches (?) we set off up the incline to the bridge across the river that takes you into the old town through the Porte Royale. This was a town that had been fortified by Vauban, a general of King Louis XIV who was one of the first to get frequent traveller status - he fortified just about every town of any consequence in France. Once into the town, it was all narrow winding streets that we followed, initially, to the cathedral which also formed part of the fortifications. Very French Catholic of its time with an amazing amount of decoration for such a relatively plain town. We carried on round the town finding that one of the common themes was that everything was ferme! We also came across the old town baking oven where a tableau had been put together which, upon pressing a button, scared Carol witless!
Having exhausted the charms of the old town, we went looking for a bite of lunch. There was a bar open that had no food! Another place was a restaurant where we couldn't be sure we'd have had our food by the time the train was due to leave (plus it was more than we wanted to eat, or pay!). Finally, we tried a little empty bar where Monsieur was happy to make us a sandwich. Ham for Carol, saucisson for me - it turned out he'd used the last of his bread to make them so noone else could get any! Washed down with a small beer and costing a total of €11.40 for two, it really hit the spot.
Then back to the station to wait for the return journey. Whilst waiting, we fell into conversation with a couple from Keighley who, it turned out, were here for the first time and were not sure they'd made the best selection of accomodation. We told them our story and they took a note of the Primary Rentals details - wonder if we should bid for commission? They'd also rented a car which, where they were staying was almost essential but it meant they struggled to get into Nice because of the traffic. We shared our experiences with public transport etc and they said they'd probably follow our lead next time.
We ended up sitting with them on our return journey - they were members of a church in Keighley which was struggling - in the middle of an Islamic community with an ageing congregation - how lucky we are at St Stephen's! They agreed.
We continued chatting till they reached their stop at Lingostiere, close to the Centre Commercial.
Once we reached Nice, it was a tram to vieille ville and a couple of beers - who says I'm a creature of habit? Then home for ravioli in home made tomato sauce (had to have 2 goes at this as the first lot of shallots got crispy whilst, a) I was on Skype to my Dad and b) Carol was glued to the TV again). Silent supper!
Then mooched about for a little while then off to sleep again.
Bon nuit!
Tuesday 30 September 2008
Nice on crutches
The title of Sunday's post says it all! Having been prepared a la nicoise, we decided (that's we spelt with a capital C!) I was up to some extended, assisted hobbling.
This was after Carol had ventured, unaccompanied, to the marche - she's really starting to love the freshness and the availability and the buzz! In fact, it's one of the major factors in us both feeling that Nice may just be our perfect holiday destination! It has the climate, mostly; it has the sea; it has good transport links to interesting places; it has shops and restaurants; our accomodation is well-nigh perfect and there is the market! Voila!
Anyway, Carol came back with loads of goodies, including ravioli, gnocchi, chicken legs and, of more immediate benefit, croissants! So, coffee and croissants it was. However, the time had come to put my french dressing to the test ( do you like the culinary pun?!).
So we caught the number 22 bus to Magnan, just the other side of the jardin you may recall, with the intention of walking as far along the Promenade des Anglais as I could manage and then getting one of "the many buses that go that way".
Well, the weather was great - warm and sunny - and there were lots of people promenading, although still plenty of seats available to rest at - ideal really. My average stretch between sit downs was about 200 metres so it took a while! We stopped at one point for an ice cream - I felt a really good boy!
Eventually, we gave in and got a bus - one bl**dy stop! - we'd walked a helluva long way with quite a lot of stops. Who says I don't have perseverance? Obviously, this level of effort was worthy of a beer but we weren't inclined to go into the old town on this occasion (little known fact - there are no public transport links into the old town of Nice, you have to walk/hobble).
We found a little bar with seats on the pavement (why can't this be more common in England??) near Place Massena and proceeded to spend not much short of 2 hours people watching, chatting and sipping beer - the things I put up with on holiday! In fact, Carol declared that this was a far better spot than our usual bar despite the higher prices. I have to say that there were far more noteworthy sights from here.
We then caught the bus home (which is what it feels like now) where I proceeded to make a concoction using the chicken legs Carol had bought earlier at the market. Shallots and garlic softened in butter, legs jointed then browned, celery, carrots and leek softened, red wine reduced down, 15 year old stock cube added, chicken returned then simmered for 90 minutes. May be appalling grammar but it was delicious!! Even managed to make mashed potato without a masher and without lumps! I won't mention how much butter was used in making this meal in case my doctor gets to read this!
All this was washed down with a bottle of Cotes de Ventoux - another link to a previous holiday in Provence. Very good way to finish a day!
This was after Carol had ventured, unaccompanied, to the marche - she's really starting to love the freshness and the availability and the buzz! In fact, it's one of the major factors in us both feeling that Nice may just be our perfect holiday destination! It has the climate, mostly; it has the sea; it has good transport links to interesting places; it has shops and restaurants; our accomodation is well-nigh perfect and there is the market! Voila!
Anyway, Carol came back with loads of goodies, including ravioli, gnocchi, chicken legs and, of more immediate benefit, croissants! So, coffee and croissants it was. However, the time had come to put my french dressing to the test ( do you like the culinary pun?!).
So we caught the number 22 bus to Magnan, just the other side of the jardin you may recall, with the intention of walking as far along the Promenade des Anglais as I could manage and then getting one of "the many buses that go that way".
Well, the weather was great - warm and sunny - and there were lots of people promenading, although still plenty of seats available to rest at - ideal really. My average stretch between sit downs was about 200 metres so it took a while! We stopped at one point for an ice cream - I felt a really good boy!
Eventually, we gave in and got a bus - one bl**dy stop! - we'd walked a helluva long way with quite a lot of stops. Who says I don't have perseverance? Obviously, this level of effort was worthy of a beer but we weren't inclined to go into the old town on this occasion (little known fact - there are no public transport links into the old town of Nice, you have to walk/hobble).
We found a little bar with seats on the pavement (why can't this be more common in England??) near Place Massena and proceeded to spend not much short of 2 hours people watching, chatting and sipping beer - the things I put up with on holiday! In fact, Carol declared that this was a far better spot than our usual bar despite the higher prices. I have to say that there were far more noteworthy sights from here.
We then caught the bus home (which is what it feels like now) where I proceeded to make a concoction using the chicken legs Carol had bought earlier at the market. Shallots and garlic softened in butter, legs jointed then browned, celery, carrots and leek softened, red wine reduced down, 15 year old stock cube added, chicken returned then simmered for 90 minutes. May be appalling grammar but it was delicious!! Even managed to make mashed potato without a masher and without lumps! I won't mention how much butter was used in making this meal in case my doctor gets to read this!
All this was washed down with a bottle of Cotes de Ventoux - another link to a previous holiday in Provence. Very good way to finish a day!
Sunday 28 September 2008
French medical services 101
Saturday was the day we admitted defeat. David's sprained (broken?) ankle wasn't going to suddenly get better. We would have to resort to asking for help!
The point had been reinforced in Carol's mind by the reaction to her slightly catching David's foot during the night - he eventually came down from the ceiling!! This was sufficient to keep Carol awake the rest of the night thinking about how to handle a visit to the hospital. So when I awoke, I had no chance - I was going to the hospital. Argument? What argument?
Having gradually got to the point where I could hobble a bit, we set off for the front door - a fair trek in my condition. When we got there, I was just taking a breather before contemplating the long haul down to the main road (I probably haven't mentioned before that montee Desambrois, our road, is private and has a barrier at the bottom - to which we did not know the code!), when a neighbour (voisin) called out from his window words to the effect of "Wait, I'll take you". You could have knocked me sideways (quite easily, actually, at present) - the kind of behaviour you would hope for but, sadly nowadays, would not really expect - and all this in French!!
George (for that was his name) got us to Hopital Saint Roche within minutes and we somewhat gingerly entered the reception for "Urgences". How efficient they all were! First we registered then were sent Guichet 3 for admission. Then, inevitably, on to Guichet 2 for payment - actually, just setting up our bill for later payment.
One point to remember in all this - 100% French being spoken - thank God for Carol as, I'm afraid, my mind was elsewhere.
We then had to wait for all of 5 minutes before being taken through to the Trauma department (I think that's what the sign said!) Again, after only a few minutes, we were taken into a treatment room to be interviewed by a young lady doctor (who seemed a little nervous but that could have been because of the language) who asked loads of questions about when and how it happened (so Carol tells me!). She obviously felt it warranted an X-ray because I was put into a wheelchair and rolled straight round, where, without further ado, my ankle was scanned.
If you're waiting for the delay, wait on - there weren't any! Next I was wheeled into another treatment where a doctor (or nurse?) took pity on me and spoke English, explaining that I would need crutches and should return in 4 days for further tests. I was then taken through to be strapped up - not one continuous strip but many individual strips - it's gonna hurt when they rip those off!!
Then it was off to the window to be discharged from Trauma where I was handed my X-rays (apparently they are my responsibility - may make an interesting light feature in the lounge!) and my prescription - some painkillers and, interestingly, a pair of "cannes anglais" - crutches. That's how it's done here!
Then it was back to Guichet 2 for final settling of the bill - I flashed my European Health Insurance Card but that led nowhere - apparently I claim back when I get home. The total bill was €52.50 - seemed cheap if yet another medical expense incurred on this relaxing holiday!!
This time it was Olivier, our landlord, who collected us ("it's all part of the package" is a favourite saying of his!) and took us home via the pharmacie - €28 including crutches - and they're mine to keep!
After all that excitement, I needed a lie down - so I did! However, we then felt emboldened to try visiting vieille ville - for that classic french combination, beer and curry! Caught the bus into town, walked (if you can call it that!) to AKAThor where it was suggested (i.e. I was ordered to obey) that 2 beers would be enough. After that, straight to Indian Lounge, a place we'd been to last year. What was really good was that most, if not all, of the other diners were french! We had a good dinner with an OK bottle of house red then walked to the tram stop. By now, our bus was no longer running so we caught the tram to the gare then got a taxi to montee Desambrois - a complete rip off at €10 but.....
Then to bed - it felt very well deserved by now!
The point had been reinforced in Carol's mind by the reaction to her slightly catching David's foot during the night - he eventually came down from the ceiling!! This was sufficient to keep Carol awake the rest of the night thinking about how to handle a visit to the hospital. So when I awoke, I had no chance - I was going to the hospital. Argument? What argument?
Having gradually got to the point where I could hobble a bit, we set off for the front door - a fair trek in my condition. When we got there, I was just taking a breather before contemplating the long haul down to the main road (I probably haven't mentioned before that montee Desambrois, our road, is private and has a barrier at the bottom - to which we did not know the code!), when a neighbour (voisin) called out from his window words to the effect of "Wait, I'll take you". You could have knocked me sideways (quite easily, actually, at present) - the kind of behaviour you would hope for but, sadly nowadays, would not really expect - and all this in French!!
George (for that was his name) got us to Hopital Saint Roche within minutes and we somewhat gingerly entered the reception for "Urgences". How efficient they all were! First we registered then were sent Guichet 3 for admission. Then, inevitably, on to Guichet 2 for payment - actually, just setting up our bill for later payment.
One point to remember in all this - 100% French being spoken - thank God for Carol as, I'm afraid, my mind was elsewhere.
We then had to wait for all of 5 minutes before being taken through to the Trauma department (I think that's what the sign said!) Again, after only a few minutes, we were taken into a treatment room to be interviewed by a young lady doctor (who seemed a little nervous but that could have been because of the language) who asked loads of questions about when and how it happened (so Carol tells me!). She obviously felt it warranted an X-ray because I was put into a wheelchair and rolled straight round, where, without further ado, my ankle was scanned.
If you're waiting for the delay, wait on - there weren't any! Next I was wheeled into another treatment where a doctor (or nurse?) took pity on me and spoke English, explaining that I would need crutches and should return in 4 days for further tests. I was then taken through to be strapped up - not one continuous strip but many individual strips - it's gonna hurt when they rip those off!!
Then it was off to the window to be discharged from Trauma where I was handed my X-rays (apparently they are my responsibility - may make an interesting light feature in the lounge!) and my prescription - some painkillers and, interestingly, a pair of "cannes anglais" - crutches. That's how it's done here!
Then it was back to Guichet 2 for final settling of the bill - I flashed my European Health Insurance Card but that led nowhere - apparently I claim back when I get home. The total bill was €52.50 - seemed cheap if yet another medical expense incurred on this relaxing holiday!!
This time it was Olivier, our landlord, who collected us ("it's all part of the package" is a favourite saying of his!) and took us home via the pharmacie - €28 including crutches - and they're mine to keep!
After all that excitement, I needed a lie down - so I did! However, we then felt emboldened to try visiting vieille ville - for that classic french combination, beer and curry! Caught the bus into town, walked (if you can call it that!) to AKAThor where it was suggested (i.e. I was ordered to obey) that 2 beers would be enough. After that, straight to Indian Lounge, a place we'd been to last year. What was really good was that most, if not all, of the other diners were french! We had a good dinner with an OK bottle of house red then walked to the tram stop. By now, our bus was no longer running so we caught the tram to the gare then got a taxi to montee Desambrois - a complete rip off at €10 but.....
Then to bed - it felt very well deserved by now!
Saturday 27 September 2008
Stay at home day
Having heard all about "the spot", prepare yourself for "the ankle"!!
Friday was forecast to be less than perfect in the afternoon and my ankle was really sore so decided to make today a "jour a la maison" for rest and, hopefully, some recuperation. This largely involved me lying on the sofa reading and, occasionally, sleeping. Not exactly what we had planned when thinking what to do in Nice!!
Carol went shopping in the morning for essential groceries - bread, vegetables, irresistable sweet pastries - and we enjoyed a very good lunch of bread, pate, cheese and tuile biscuits. What more could a sick man want?
With no movement looking likely from the ankle, we agreed that Carol should try and do something - in the end, she decided to go to the cinema. She saw a film called "Faubourg 36" which, as far as I can tell, was set in 1936, the period when the Front Populaire came to power in France. Apparently not a nice group of people. However, Carol definitely enjoyed the experience - I have to applaud her confidence in being prepared to challenge her language skills in such a way - she reckons she got most of what the film is about although the setting was a little uncertain in her mind. Incidentally, this was a film by the same guy who did another film called "The Choir" or "The Choristers" a few years ago. We'd intended seeing that but never got around to it.
Upon her return, she decided to try and get some medication from the pharmacie for me - returning with a couple of different bandages and some analgesic cream. Used the cream with some success, albeit temporary, but were uncertain about how to wrap in a bandage so didn't use them in the end.
I was able to stand sufficiently to make us Spaghettini Carbonara (I made up the word spaghettini -it was very thin spaghetti that cooked in no time but not capellini dei angeli - angel's hair pasta). Went down very well with a bottle of Touraine sauvignon. We then watched a programme about a, presumably, famous lawyer - Henri Leconte - who seemed to have been involved in most of the high profile cases of the last 50 years. More is making sense the more we watch.
Then to bed.
Friday was forecast to be less than perfect in the afternoon and my ankle was really sore so decided to make today a "jour a la maison" for rest and, hopefully, some recuperation. This largely involved me lying on the sofa reading and, occasionally, sleeping. Not exactly what we had planned when thinking what to do in Nice!!
Carol went shopping in the morning for essential groceries - bread, vegetables, irresistable sweet pastries - and we enjoyed a very good lunch of bread, pate, cheese and tuile biscuits. What more could a sick man want?
With no movement looking likely from the ankle, we agreed that Carol should try and do something - in the end, she decided to go to the cinema. She saw a film called "Faubourg 36" which, as far as I can tell, was set in 1936, the period when the Front Populaire came to power in France. Apparently not a nice group of people. However, Carol definitely enjoyed the experience - I have to applaud her confidence in being prepared to challenge her language skills in such a way - she reckons she got most of what the film is about although the setting was a little uncertain in her mind. Incidentally, this was a film by the same guy who did another film called "The Choir" or "The Choristers" a few years ago. We'd intended seeing that but never got around to it.
Upon her return, she decided to try and get some medication from the pharmacie for me - returning with a couple of different bandages and some analgesic cream. Used the cream with some success, albeit temporary, but were uncertain about how to wrap in a bandage so didn't use them in the end.
I was able to stand sufficiently to make us Spaghettini Carbonara (I made up the word spaghettini -it was very thin spaghetti that cooked in no time but not capellini dei angeli - angel's hair pasta). Went down very well with a bottle of Touraine sauvignon. We then watched a programme about a, presumably, famous lawyer - Henri Leconte - who seemed to have been involved in most of the high profile cases of the last 50 years. More is making sense the more we watch.
Then to bed.
Friday 26 September 2008
An attempt to have a holiday
Thursday was forecast to be a good day, at least in the afternoon. So, despite the (my) various ailments, we decided a bus trip to Menton, near the Italian border, was a good thing to do.
We caught the local bus to close to the Gare Routiere - had to walk/limp about 300 metres - where we looked for the appropriate bus bay for buses heading to Menton. Should have guessed - it was the one with hundreds already waiting!
However, immediately behind it, and with few if any waiting, was the bay for buses to Grasse, the perfume capital of the world. So, demonstrating incredible agility of mind (and not wanting to wait for the next Menton bus!), we changed plan and got on the bus to Grasse. Similar journey time estimated - about 90 minutes - so no big deal. I should add that I only paid €2.60 for both of us - and
it should have been €2! They're robbing b*ggers here as well!
As an ex-professional bus driver, I take my hat off to these idiots! I would think twice about taking a car down some of the roads they have to use - and, as for the speed at which they travel, don't go there. Occasional closing of eyes and breathing in was the order of things. However, he got us there in one piece and more or less on time.
Naturally, the bus station (gare routiere, see above) was at the top of the hill with all the points of interest down the hill - this just seems to be the natural turn of things as far as we are concerned - it was going to be interesting to see how "the ankle" coped. Well, it got me as far as lunch! A classic French setting - in a town square, under plane trees with the sun shining - the kind of caricature I'm happy to live with.
We decided that salads were what was required - Carol had a Salade Nicoise whilst I had Salade des Foies de Volaille (chicken liver salad). Brilliant! I had to help Carol finish hers although I wasn't allowed any tuna! Beats MacDonalds any day!
After lunch, we mooched down to the cathedral, which was right by an outlook point as well. The cathedral was very dark with huge pillars (we reckoned they hadn't had the necessary architectural skills to make them any slimmer). However, there were some lovely artworks inside including, astonishingly, 3 paintings by Rubens - just hanging on the walls. Classy!
We then outlooked from the outlook - you can actually see yachts on the mediterranean from this far up - then decided we'd gone as far as sensible. So back, up the hill, to the bus. Joining the queue for the bus (those of you who have travelled in France will recognise the falsehood in that statement!), we reached Nice at about 5 o'clock.
Before being allowed to partake of a small glass of beer during happy hour, I was told we must find something for dinner. We couldn't remember where there was a butcher although Carol vaguely remembered seeing one somewhere near the entrance to the old town. We looked...........and there were about 6 or 7 butchers! We chose one on the simple merit of it selling meat (???) and bought 2 cotes de veau (veal chops). Some bread, a few french beans - now we were set for happy hour!
Came back to the apartment on the bus (these bus passes are a thing of wonder) and started to cook - pan fried with shallots, white wine and cream. Magnifique!
There, we're up to date!!
We caught the local bus to close to the Gare Routiere - had to walk/limp about 300 metres - where we looked for the appropriate bus bay for buses heading to Menton. Should have guessed - it was the one with hundreds already waiting!
However, immediately behind it, and with few if any waiting, was the bay for buses to Grasse, the perfume capital of the world. So, demonstrating incredible agility of mind (and not wanting to wait for the next Menton bus!), we changed plan and got on the bus to Grasse. Similar journey time estimated - about 90 minutes - so no big deal. I should add that I only paid €2.60 for both of us - and
it should have been €2! They're robbing b*ggers here as well!
As an ex-professional bus driver, I take my hat off to these idiots! I would think twice about taking a car down some of the roads they have to use - and, as for the speed at which they travel, don't go there. Occasional closing of eyes and breathing in was the order of things. However, he got us there in one piece and more or less on time.
Naturally, the bus station (gare routiere, see above) was at the top of the hill with all the points of interest down the hill - this just seems to be the natural turn of things as far as we are concerned - it was going to be interesting to see how "the ankle" coped. Well, it got me as far as lunch! A classic French setting - in a town square, under plane trees with the sun shining - the kind of caricature I'm happy to live with.
We decided that salads were what was required - Carol had a Salade Nicoise whilst I had Salade des Foies de Volaille (chicken liver salad). Brilliant! I had to help Carol finish hers although I wasn't allowed any tuna! Beats MacDonalds any day!
After lunch, we mooched down to the cathedral, which was right by an outlook point as well. The cathedral was very dark with huge pillars (we reckoned they hadn't had the necessary architectural skills to make them any slimmer). However, there were some lovely artworks inside including, astonishingly, 3 paintings by Rubens - just hanging on the walls. Classy!
We then outlooked from the outlook - you can actually see yachts on the mediterranean from this far up - then decided we'd gone as far as sensible. So back, up the hill, to the bus. Joining the queue for the bus (those of you who have travelled in France will recognise the falsehood in that statement!), we reached Nice at about 5 o'clock.
Before being allowed to partake of a small glass of beer during happy hour, I was told we must find something for dinner. We couldn't remember where there was a butcher although Carol vaguely remembered seeing one somewhere near the entrance to the old town. We looked...........and there were about 6 or 7 butchers! We chose one on the simple merit of it selling meat (???) and bought 2 cotes de veau (veal chops). Some bread, a few french beans - now we were set for happy hour!
Came back to the apartment on the bus (these bus passes are a thing of wonder) and started to cook - pan fried with shallots, white wine and cream. Magnifique!
There, we're up to date!!
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