London to Nice Day Two

 Best sleep I’ve had while moving, hands down. We need couchette in the US. I saw the train left Antibes, our second to last stop and that the only other person remaining in the cabin and myself were both awake. Great excuse to open the window shade and prepare for detraining. It is raining today in Nice, not so nice.

I’ve arranged a luxury for myself here, I will be staying in my own hotel room. I haven’t done this since Cumberland, almost an month ago. Check in does not go smoothly but when it is all done the man at the front desk is being oddly kind with me and smiling. This is making me nervous, I haven’t received such warm treatment since I left the states. I’m not sure if I just got scammed or if this is simply a mark that I am leaving the licorice belt and entering the sunshine and beaches part of the continent. 

Since my room was not ready I popped my dirty laundry in at the local Machines a Laver and grabbed breakfast at Lidl, a supermarket. Self checkout was hell. I had only one item with a barcode and so everything else needed to be identified and weighed. Switching the language from French to English didn’t do much since the items are all proper nouns anyhow. To add to my misery, the scale was misbehaving and spitting out errors in English, French, and German. Good morning. 

An Apple, a pastry, and an Orangina. That soda has not been available in the US for some years now and I miss it. In the US, we are afraid of anything that might have actual pieces of plant matter inside it. No wonder it didn’t sell.

My laundry is done and a break in the rain lets me explore a little. I go to the Main Street and park myself at a cafe for people watching and caffeine. If I can’t do much of anything today, I may as well see how the locals behave on a rain day. People are more relaxed here. I’m even noticing strangers smiling at strangers on the street. To this Californian, it warms the soul. Hunger is timing with another break in the rain and I’m off in search of lunch. I wind up at a restaurant with counter service. I can’t remember the last time I saw that out here. I’m making a note of this meal because I have to recreate it at home. A thick (maybe 3 inches) slice of toasted brioche. Pile with stewed eggs and tomatoes, add burrata, top with fresh pesto and pine nuts. Serve on a bed of spinach.

The rain isn’t stopping and my hotel room should be ready by now. I could use breaks in the rain to wander for cover forever but I’m hungering for a nap and the sanctity of my own space, something I have not had for some time. A much needed nap teleports me to dinner. By this point I’m not even hungry, I just need something to do and going through the motions of dinner sounds nice. I do that, it is nice.

Still beautiful

The evening rolls on and the rain finally concludes. In recognition of this incredible occurrence I go for a walk without soaking myself. Incredible. To celebrate this incredible occurrence, I head for the local ExPat bar. Every town has one and they’re a great spot to speak some American after a long day of silence. Wayne’s has music, even on a quiet rainy Sunday and they’re packed like it’s the only spot in town where you can dance. Tonight that may be true. A group of Norwegians have made a hobby out of feeding me vodka redbulls. This goes great with the other main attraction at Walt’s, dancing on tables.