Nice et la Côte d'Azur (the French Riviera)

Although I just started posting about my week in Paris, I figured that I might as well write about my fabulous weekend spent in the French Riviera with my study abroad program.

After classes on Friday, a group of roughly 60 excited students including myself (surprise!) waited forty five minutes before boarding a bus outside of our building on campus. Why were we so excited? Because we were heading to Nice and la Côte d'Azur or, as we call it in English (ick English speakers), the French Riviera. We left Grenoble around 1:15 pm. According to the all-knowing all-powerful being that is Google, the trip from Grenoble to Nice should, in theory, only take 4 hours and 40 minutes. However, according to our program director, Vincent, a silly Grenoblois, 8 hours is more realistic. To be fair, we did stop three times: once for a brief bathroom break, once for a late lunch in a small town called Sisteron, and once more just 45 minutes outside of Nice to stretch our legs. Side note: being from San Francisco, I just pretended that I was making the road trip from NorCal to Disneyland like I used to with my mom years ago, but there were sadly no roller coasters at the end of this bus ride. We finally reached the Côte d'Azur around 9 pm and, although we were all more than ready just to get off the damn bus, I was so stoked to pass signs for Cannes, Nice, Antibes, and St. Tropez. I couldn't stop myself from hearing the voice of the snobby quasi-English old man from "Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous" saying funny tidbits about movie stars, yachts, beaches, and luxury hotels ("Champagne wishes and caviah dreams"). 

We arrived at our hotel in Beaulieu-sur-Mer, a small town just beyond Nice, checked in, marveled at how swanky our rooms were, and decided to get dressed up to go out to dinner and then to check out the night scene. Well, dinner was the only thing accomplished on our two-step Friday night to-do list as by the time we finished eating and paid it was already close to midnight and finding nightlife in Beaulieu-sur-Mer didn't appear feasible. We decided to call it a night in order to get sleep for a jam-packed following day and night. 


Saturday morning after eating breakfast, the sixty or so of us hopped back on the bus and headed to Nice. It was a wonderful four hours spent on the beach swimming, tanning, and generally having a great girls day. The light blue color of the Mediterranean was as gorgeous as the water was warm. Kyra, Sabrina and I bonded over being water babies and spent most of our time a ways out in the sea. Although I am a winter girl and find inner peace when bundled up and accessorized to the nines, it was extremely liberating to spend the entire day in just a bikini and no makeup. We said goodbye to the beach in Nice after a few hours and headed to Eze, a small village on the way from Nice to Monaco, where we stopped briefly at the Galimard parfumerie. We got a free tour of the perfume factory and bought a few souvenirs. Immediately after the tour, we all got back on the bus and headed to another country far far away: Monaco. Upon arrival in Monaco, we were all hungry and stumbled upon a cheap Italian restaurant near the Monaco Oceanographic Museum. The food was delicious, the waitress was hilariously sassy, and the conversation was crass. In short, it was a great meal. Afterwards, we unintentionally split up and wandered around Monaco, stopping in different souvenir shops and in front of the painfully plain Palace of Monaco (come on Monaco, step up your game). 

After a few hours spent in that area, we got back on the bus (so much bus time) and drove to Monte Carlo, another area in Monaco where we all proceeded to feel homeless and generally bad about ourselves. We reached the Casino Monte Carlo (no, Casino Royale was not filmed there), stood in shock at the heaps of rich people driving Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bentleys, Porsches, Range Rovers, and BMWs, and then proceeded to go to the Cafe de Paris across the way where we got expensive drinks and did an atrocious job of pretending that we belonged in that world. Epic fail. My 15 Euro ($20) mojito was, thankfully, delicious. Frankly, I was happy to spend some time in Monte Carlo, because it only made me more grateful for what I had: a childhood. Why a childhood, you ask? While Kyra, Sabrina and I were sitting at the Cafe de Paris drinking our drinks, sitting next to us were four young girls. The oldest among them couldn't have been older than 14 and the youngest was probably 8 or 9. They were sitting by themselves in a sea of expensive clothing and plastic surgery looking bored as hell. I can only imagine that their parents were inside the casino trying to one-up other rich socialites and wasting way too much money on superficial items instead of spending time with their young children. Although I don't have the audacity to pretend to know their story, such a sight made me stop resenting Monte Carlo and all it stood for, and instead made me thankful for having loving caring parents who, although they drove me crazy growing up because they were (still are) ALWAYS there (hello, only child syndrome), gave me a great childhood. Anyways, after Monte Carlo, everyone was wiped out from 12 hours of non-stop activity and we tiredly welcomed the 9 pm announcement that we were heading back to Beaulieu-sur-Mer. Upon arrival back at the hotel, I showered and immediately hit the hay. 


Sunday morning we got to sleep in and it was glorious. Our belongings packed, we boarded the bus for Saint-Paul (de Vence), a small stone wall-enclosed town oft frequented by artists such as Picasso on the way to Cannes. Kyra and I spent a little over an hour walking around the picturesque village that is riddled with gorgeous houses covered in ivy and large potted plants as well as loads of art galleries. After some time in Saint-Paul we headed to Cannes! Being an admitted cinephile, I was psyched to see where the Cannes Film Festival is held each year. However, we were only to be in Cannes for 90 minutes before heading back to Grenoble. Sacrifices sadly had to be made and instead of seeing where the festival was held, I decided to go swimming in the Mediterranean again. Sigh. It was a difficult decision, many people were injured in the process, but I just couldn't pass up one final opportunity to swim in the warm water surrounded by the Alps. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I swam in the Mediterranean Sea and was surrounded by the Alps. Unreal. I figure when I'm a rich and famous French literature professor (everybody laugh with/at me), I'll ask Johnny or Woody if they can get me tickets to the film festival (I'm sure they'll owe me one). For now, I'm a young traveler with priorities. Namely, those of the beach persuasion.


This was our last stop on the trip. After a final 20 minutes sitting facing the Mediterranean eating a sandwich, pinching myself and trying to convince myself that this was real life, that this was MY life, I gleefully got back on the bus and went back to Grenoble. In short, it was an epic weekend.

View on the way to Nice from Beaulieu-sur-Mer

Beach in Nice

Girls day!

Pure contentment

View on the way to Eze from Nice

Galimard parfumerie in Eze

Where they test the perfumes

The finished products

Monaco

In Monaco

Statue of Francois Grimaldi

Palace of Monaco

In Monte Carlo -- Ferrari

Aston Martin

Outside the Casino Monte Carlo

Casino Monte Carlo

Fancy drinks at the Cafe de Paris

In Saint-Paul

In Saint-Paul de Vence

In Cannes

Mediterranean Sea with the Alps in the background

Leaving Cannes

What the hell, it's not all a drag

Paris Day 1

I suppose it's time to talk about my marvelous week spent in Paris before taking the train down to Grenoble.

Day 1: I took the Thalys train from Brussels and arrived in Paris on Friday June 24th. The train arrived at Gare du Nord, which I planned most excellently since I was to be staying the night with my old host family who live just five minutes walking from the station. Clutch. I stepped out of the train station and the sights and smells of Rue Dunkerque were exactly as I had remembered them being three years earlier. I grabbed my luggage and headed back to my old apartment. No map required. I remembered exactly where to go. I got to my old building and rang the buzzer for the Foucault apartment. My host mom, Patricia, answered most coyly "Ouiiiii?" "Coucou, c'est Alex!" "Bonjour Alex!" and she buzzed me in. Reaching the 6th floor of the building, Patricia was waiting outside the door for me and immediately kissed me on both cheeks and asked me if I was hungry. Yes, famished. I dropped off my bags in my room and went to the kitchen where my host mom of 4 months proceeded to make me lunch like she had done so many times in 2008. It was truly a great homecoming. We caught each other up on everything. Since I had left 2 of her 4 kids had gotten married and they had finished working on their home in Bretagne (Brittany). After lunch she had to go run errands and I immediately was itching to go explore some of my old favorite spots.

I went to the metro station to buy some tickets for the week and upon purchasing them with my American card at the ticket window, the vendor commented on how cute my card with the ladybug on it was and how she wanted one with Hello Kitty. It's the little inconsequential conversations such as these that make me love Parisians (most of the time). I decided to go to my favorite area in Paris, the Latin Quarter, which is halfway touristic halfway not, to go to my favorite cafe, Cafe Malongo on Rue St. Andre des Arts, to go to Orange (like Verizon or AT&T) to add money to my French phone, and to get ice cream. After adding money to my phone, grabbing a coffee and wandering, I crossed over the Seine to Ile-St-Louis where I got Berthillon ice cream. With my delectable pistachio ice cream in hand, iPod on and blasting some great tunes, I walked down the stairs to the edge of the Seine where I sat and basked in the sun in pure and simple bliss for half an hour surrounded of course by multiple young couples making out. Salut, Paris, it's damn good to be back.

After my lovely afternoon, I headed back to the apartment where I did laundry. Hallelujah! And ate dinner with my host mom which we then followed up with some movie watching in the living room. It was the perfect first day back in Paris and the indicator of the perfect week that was to follow.

Paris: Musée Rodin

After Belgium, I took a train to Paris where I spent a glorious week revisiting my second favorite city in the world. One of the highlights of the trip was the Musée Rodin (Rodin Museum). Having taken 2+ years of art history classes during high school and college each of which touched upon the astounding beauty of the pieces at the Musée Rodin, I had always wanted to visit it. When I was studying in Paris 3 years ago I didn't get the chance to go and so this time I was adamant about visiting. In short, it did not disappoint. Below are some of my favorite pieces from the museum.

Beautiful garden area with a view of Les Invalides (gold-domed building on left) and La Tour Eiffel (right)

Belgium: Brussels & Bruges

After a brief and lackluster trip to Seville, I hopped on one last airplane to Belgium where I spent three days split between Brussels and Bruges. My plane landed in Brussels in the late evening, I took a shuttle from the airport to the city center, checked into my hostel and went to sleep as the next day would be spent touring Brussels for a few hours before boarding a train to Bruges.

The following morning I awoke happy for a number of reasons: 1. Free coffee in the hotel 2. It was 60 degrees and overcast outside 3. In Brussels, French is one of the primary languages spoken. After spending 4 weeks in countries whose language I did not speak more than at a basic conversational level (e.g. hello, thank you, goodbye), I was thrilled to be able to really communicate with people. Also, as most of you know I am a cold-weather person and so after spending two blisteringly hot days in Seville, the 40 degree temperature drop made me more than content. I'm sure the people in Brussels must've thought I was crazy walking around with a big grin on my face due to the cool gray weather. As it started to rain (SHWING!), I decided that there was nothing more that I wanted than to find a quiet cafe where I could grab a cup of coffee and sit down to write. To my great pleasure, I found an adorable cafe specializing in bagels run by two middle aged women. I sat inside for about an hour drinking great coffee, eating a toasted bagel with cream cheese, writing in my journal and listening to the women gab in French. Needless to say, I was thoroughly content with life that morning. After my coffee break, I wandered the streets of Brussels for a bit stopping at numerous sites (e.g. churches, fountains, etc) before deciding I was getting too wet to wander the streets sans umbrella. Luckily, I ran smack dab into an H&M, went inside and proceeded to go on my first shopping "spree" (a dress, 2 tops on sale, and a pair of earrings). I then went back to the hostel, grabbed my belongings and headed to the train station where I got on a train to Bruges.

Although the train ride from Brussels to Bruges is only a little over an hour, upon arrival in the city you feel as though you are in a totally different country. Long gone is the comforting feeling of understanding the language around you as French is no longer the language spoken in the city, but Flemish, rather. I got off the train, figured out the bus I had to take to the hostel, got to and checked in at the Snuffel Backpacker hostel. Save for the language barrier, I immediately felt good vibes upon arriving in Bruges. As you wander around the city it feels like you are in a perpetual postcard, because it is just that damn beautiful. You are surrounded by canals, beautiful architecture, churches, parks covered in trees, and people on bicycles. Aside from its visual beauty, Bruges also always sounds beautiful due to the sound of the wind on the canals, people ringing bells on their bikes, and the church bells seem to constantly be tolling. If you've seen the movie In Bruges, which you absolutely should because it's great, Bruges really is a f***ing fairytale city.

Later that evening I took the train back to Brussels where I spent the evening before departing for Paris the next morning.

The Belfry

Canals everywhere

Location of the scene in In Bruges where they are filming the movie

Cool building

Beautiful park where Colin Farrell almost does something to himself (won't spoil it!)

Gazebo where lots of locals gather to spend time

Marketplace

Seville, Spain

After Venice I flew to Seville to spend 2 short days in Spain. At this point I had been traveling for 4 weeks having never stopped to take a day off. To take a day off seemed a waste of time and I hadn't saved up all my money and lived like a monk for 10 months just to sit in a hostel all day. However, upon arriving in Seville and being greeted by 110 degree temperature I couldn't help but feel a little lethargic. My first day in Seville I met a very nice German girl named Liesel who was also traveling on her own and we hit it off. After a few hours in the city, Liesel and I walked down the street from our hostel to a tapas restaurant and I got some much needed food. Later that evening Liesel and I went to the rooftop terrace of our hostel, drank a couple of beers and relaxed.

The following day my mind awoke ready to go on a walking tour of Seville. However, my body had another thing in mind: relaxation. So, for the first time on my trip I took a day off from travel. After going to the nearby supermarket and stocking up on lunch of bread, cheese, salchichon, tomatoes, apples, and beer I returned to the hostel's rooftop terrace along with my copy of Madame Bovary and proceeded to spend the day eating, reading, and tanning in the hostel's jacuzzi (best hostel ever). While half of me said to myself, "Wow you're a jerk for spending the day in this gorgeous city in the hostel", the other half said, "Shut your face". Self-intimidation, works every time! That evening Liesel and I did, however, go to a really cool restaurant situated on the Guadalquivir River where we played cards and drank cheap beers while looking upon the Cathedral. It wasn't a wasted day after all!

The next day my flight left for Brussels in the early evening so I decided to do a little sightseeing before going to the airport. And by sightseeing I mean of course that I walked aimlessly around the streets and ducked into every air conditioned clothing store possible to beat the oppressive heat.

I'm sorry, Seville, it's not you it's me.

The Cathedral at dusk

Restaurant where Liesel and I got drinks

View of the Cathedral after the sun set