I’m starting this post from a white park bench along one of the biking/walking coastline of Nice. I’ve never seen such breathtaking turquoise water before. It’s the sort of clean, refreshing sight that makes one believe that everything can be okay. Sure, we’re polluting the ocean with billions of tons of toxic waste, but hey, parts of it can still look like this:
I’m very grateful for the beautiful view and the mild weather because I’ll be sitting on this park bench for four more hours. Baris doesn’t get off work until six thirty, so I’ve got loads of time to burn between now and then. Besides being overweight (Svetlana was really generous and paid the overweight baggage fees for me), my bag makes it incredibly difficult for me to wander around a city. I tentatively bumbled into a small shop for some sausage and cheese (my standard meal when I’m not volunteering with someone), apologetically muttered a few, “excusez moi”s under my breath as I sent the entire shop into disarray, and was wished a dry, “Bon voyage!” as I trundled out of the shop.
I really, really hate my bag. I just don’t know how to make it smaller.
I’m wearing my sunglasses again. Hello, France.
There are dozens of empty benches along the beach, but a young, surly looking Frenchman has chosen to sit down next to me. I’m switching between rudely eating my cheese and sausage with my fingers (what else can I do?), reading some Irish short stories, writing in my journal, and working on this little blurb. The Frenchman is switching between eating crackers (the wind blows the crumbs into my keyboard) and carving his walking stick (the wind blows the shavings into my cheese).
He’s been sitting here for three hours now. Two hours in, he abruptly asked, “Parlez vous francais?” I immediately mumbled through a mouthful of chevre, “mmmhhmnnnoooooooo”, violently shaking my head, flicking a particularly large shaving off of my thigh and returning to my Irish short stories. I think I’m going to take my bag for a stroll around the coast. It’ll be romantic. My bulging green bag, dry sausage and last bite of cheese.
I’ll try not to think about how silly I look. But I’ve gotten fairly good at detaching myself from my image, so it should be fairly easy.
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| It's very popular to bike, ROLLERBLADE and run along the coast. |
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| You can rent a Velo Bleu and drop it off at one of the many other bike hitching posts along the bike track |
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| NICE! |
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