NO RESERVATIONS - PROVENCE

St. Remy de Provence. Anthony Bourdain's 2010 segment aired earlier this evening. CA and I were glued to the tube. Memories. Nostalgia. Longing. Yep, we could be some of those people who decide to buy into the dream.

Our version will more than likely continue to be a string of rentals over a period of years as we find our way through the scenic countryside, into the Medieval villages, amongst the olive groves and vineyards, along the rocky cliffs of the Mediterranean, letting the culture and the lifestyle insinuate itself into our lives and souls.

As Anthony Boudain says at the end of this segment--my paraphrase--it's the small moments, the incidental relationships, and especially the food that draws us to Provence and creates a longing to repeat and return.

FRANCE: Day 9 - Cannes y Mougins

We wake to a rainy Sunday in the South of France. We’ve planned a quiet day in Cannes and a trip to the Provençal Market, and after a bit of discussion we are on our way. CA has an umbrella, and I plan to buy one in Cannes. LG talked me out of my teal mini-brella before we left Bratislava.

We’re both half wet before long, but the market is covered and we wander about checking out all the vendors before buying Clementines and vegetables for stir fry—mushrooms, red pepper, and onions. Before leaving the market we buy a block of artisanal butter (demi-sel).

It’s still raining as we begin wandering the market streets and then along the Pantiero (marina). These boats are big, but there’re massive yachts across the harbor. I eventually buy a cheap pink umbrella in the 2€ shop and immediately appreciate the expenditure. Maybe not the umbrella I’d envisioned, but we’re both drier.

We decide to have lunch again this Sunday at La Piazza on Place Cornut Gentille, CA chooses the hot chevré salade and I get pricey with sole mernieure. My sole is mediocre, which is tragic for someone who’s not in love with fish on any day. I do enjoy the vegetables (all called légumes) and white rice that accompanies the sole. CA is very pleased with this salad.

We wander about a bit more after lunch--the rain has let up, but it is still a grey, cloudy day on the coast. When we enter the parking garage—P1 Palais—we find another brocante and spend a bit of time perusing the goods. Other than the silverware, I’ve found nothing of interest at any of the antique’s stalls this trip. And, the silverware is pricey—more than I’m willing to spend for something I really don’t need.

By the time we drive back to Club Mougins, the sun is out and we again get to appreciate the Maritime Alps on the horizon.

Some observation:
• Large cranes (the machinery variety) are ubiquitous. With all these steep terraced hillside neighborhoods, any renovation or construction necessitates the use of cranes. And, we remember our first visit to Paris and how platform cranes were used to move into and out of flats—through the large windows rather than up and around the narrow staircases.

• Sunday’s are not shopping days in France. Food markets and boulangerie-patisseries might be open until 12:00m, but everything closes in the afternoon. Sundays are family days.

• Based on our observations of the commercial areas in the cities and villages we’ve visited so far, clothes shopping is way down the ladder from food shopping. There are numerous culinary purveyors everywhere, and far fewer clothing or shoe stores. There is definitely an emphasis on food and a multitude of ways to procure it, while acquiring a great quantity of clothing doesn’t seem to be necessary. CA says the natives should be fatter. They aren’t. We are.

NICE IS NICE

The kiddies are sleeping as the alarm buzzes softly this a.m. We creep around with final packing and showers. DM will take us to the bus in the Centrum [center of Bratislava] for the launch of Adventure, part 2. He has a bad cold and is feeling sickly, so I prepare a pot of French Press made with Intelligentsia coffee. Soon MP joins us with a smiling and sleepy-eyed KF. She is still shy, but always happy to see us--our beautiful baby girl.

A short bus ride to Vienna Flughofen [airport]. We order a kaffe mélange and settle in to the time-honored café rites of silence, smoking, and world-class people watching [without the smoking!]. Our first ever Sky Europe flight beats out Southwest. Safety instructions in three languages—German, French, and English—with the bonus empty seat between us to spread our elbows. Sky Europe has not yet stolen every millimeter of legroom…

The landing in Nice is close to spectacular. If the skies had been sunny instead of overcast and drizzly, “spectacular” would not have covered it. You virtually make a water landing—wheels down almost before you can believe there is earth beneath. Mediterranean Sea waves are crashing into the shoreline and snow-capped mountains are on the horizon. Nice appears ochre and cream, pink and white, with sun-burnt orange tile roofs interspersed throughout.

We know to buy the 4€ all day bus ticket and quickly move to Quai 2 to board. The entire bus ride follows the Baie des Anges [Bay of Angels] and in 15 minutes we are at Promenade des Congrès and a short 2-block walk to the Nice Garden Hotel. We buzz into a simple and charming B&B and are shown about by an effusive Marian—co-owner. Our room has been recently updated and, though basic, has just enough space and a trendy, urban feel. There are wooden floors, soft taupe herringbone wall coverings, and sleek-tiled bathroom walls. A charming shuttered window overlooks the back garden. We are here just for tonight, but will remember and recommend this hotel.

We spend the afternoon wandering the cobblestoned streets, admiring the ambiance and architecture—happy and excited to be on the Cote d’Azur. We head for Place Masséna and then Marché aux Fleurs—Nice’s famous flower market. Marian has recommended Safari for a late lunch and it is seriously drizzling by the time we find it near the end of the flower market. We see many cafes outfitted for wintertime outdoor dining, but have determined to follow Marian’s recommendation. We are not disappointed as this seems a local place—despite its tourist location.

I don’t care if it is trite, I cannot resist ordering salade Niçoise to compare with all the recipes I have read and made in the U.S. Very fine, with just a drizzle of olive oil—mixed greens, radishes, mushrooms, tomatoes, tuna, hard-cooked egg, and scallions. No boiled potatoes in this version. I don’t share, although CA is generous with his pizza with anchovies and olives. CA thinks he has ordered a glass of the local rosé, but ends up with a bottle and we are forced to finish it! It is the lightest pink and the best wine ever...

We hope to fit two meals in, but that full bottle of rosé and then the extra long walk results in a nap. By the time we are again conscious, it is late and we are not hungry… We’ll begin early tomorrow and then our friends join us midday for a week in Mougins and the delights of Provence.