Started yesterday with breakfast of toasted day-old baguette with strawberry jam. Definitely a good way to start the day:
...although I kinda wanted to kill the baby pigeons on the neighbor's roof -- they whine (the sound is just like a whining dog) for their parents to feed them, even though they seem like they're big enough to get their own food:
Still, the terra-cotta-roof culture is charming, as is the view of so many rooves between me and the glorious sea, and so I dont' get too pissed at the baby pigeons.
After breakfast I took a little stroll around the hood.
My Rue, the Rue Volti:
Scoped out the beach:
...looked inviting.
My favorite chat in the neighborhood:
(although I'm sure he's contributed to the condition of the little square where I see him, which I have nicknamed "le catbox").
After my stroll I had a light lunch before hitting the beach:
The bread is a glorious mutligrain from the boulangerie across the road, called "maxi cereale", but apparently just called "maxi" -- it is excellent!
Then it was off to the beach, where I lounged and swam for hours. Didn't bring my camera, so there's no photographic evidence. Needless to say it's a great way to spend the afternoon, and the swimming is great. Fortunately there were no jellyfish, which apparently can be a nasty problem. There were tons of French women in varying stages of undress (and varying stages of surrender to the inevitable forces of gravity), most of whom were a dark, dark, bronze and just sat on the beach smoking and staring, with very little talk, very little swimming, and not a shred of reading material to be found. This made me basically happy to be pale and well-equipped with a pile of books, thank you very much.
Got back from the beach around 5, hot and tired from the sun, which always manages to wear me out.
Photographic evidence -- unwilling to share above (tired, tired face) or below (oh, the thighs):
Then it was time for a nap, some cello practice, scraps for dinner, and finishing my book. No snaps except for this one of a kitty sleeping in a planter three stories down from my window:
...aw gee. Though surely also a member of "le club catbox".
And then on to day three in Villefranche:
Today I got up, had a little breakfast, then shoe'd myself in my chucks for the first time on this trip:
The pinkie toe (run over with my cello flight case on day one of my trip) seemed to fit without major protest. Three hours later, said pinkie toe was pretty mad at me. Ya see, I decided to walk the six-mile circumference of Cap Ferrat, which was spectacular, and yet not so enjoyable for my right foot. Eh, it'll heal.
The first part of the walk involved going along the beach over to the Cap, and pretty much the first thing you pass over there is Villa Nellcote, famous for two main reasons. The first being that it was a Gestapo headquarters during WWII, the second (and way better karma) being that it is where The Rolling Stones recorded Exile On Main Street, when they headed to France to evade the British tax man. You can't really see much of the villa itself, but the gates and landscaping look pretty impressive:
My pictures aren't so hot, but if you Google around you'll find incredible pictures of the Stones there back in '71, like this: http://42ndblackwatch1881.wordpress.com/2009/08/14/the-rolling-stones-in-exile-villa-nellcote-summer-of-1971/ and this: http://www.surrenderous.com/?p=651
Continued on my walk around the Cap, armed with little besides my Chucks, my camera, and a bottle of water. The lack of food became kind of a bummer, but no worries: when I finally got back to my pad, I devoured what was left of my poulet roti and my "maxi".
Pics from the walk:
nifty little private boat mooring:
if only my camera would capture the incredible blue:
self-portrait at the Cap Ferrat -- and evidence that I trimmed my own bangs, with toenail scissors:
lighthouse and rugged coastline:
fruiting cacti
seabirds and crystal-clear water:
Villefranche in the distance:
beautiful trail:
Then some lunch, bathing, napping, cello practice (although it was really just too damn hot to play the cello). Saw some Italian guys working on a roof in the neighborhood:
Eventually roused myself to go out for dinner -- wanted to dine on the waterfront, even though the restaurants there are kinda reputed to be overpriced and not that great. Turns out that's true. Although my salade de la mer was pretty good:
and my mixed grill of fish was pretty good too -- definitely fresh, though slightly overcooked. And it was so dark by the time it arrived, there was no hope of a photo, and no hope for me to negotiate the bones (and I couldn't seem to get anyone to bring me a candle like everyone else seemed to have on their tables). This was so far the most expensive meal I've had on my trip, and probably the least enjoyable. And yet my belly is full and I probably won't get food poisoning, so really all is just fine in the world.
And now I say goodnight. Will probably go check out museums in Nice tomorrow, pinkie-toe-willing.
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