Nice Day 5

 My last day here. It was only fit that it should be my most relaxing. After such a long stay in one place I was due to handle laundry again. I feel like this is becoming one of the measures of time by which I know how long I’ve been in one place. I have now been in Europe for three loads of Laundry. Sounds practical. I made the most of my time, the wash cycle was for breakfast and drying was me figuring out how to get money from La Banque Postale. The staff there is more helpful than most American Banque workers and certainly more so than American Postale workers. Love my boys in blue.

Since I’ve nearly finished Zorba the Greek, I went on an adventure to a local English bookshop. Nice has one, run by a lady from the UK. Like most things here, it is also a cafe. It seems like any shop where people may want to gather can also sell you espresso and allow you to linger. This cafe is a place where people who read in English gather. I talk to a man from Bristol who has lived here for thirty years teaching English. A woman from Alberta who is back for the first time in decades. A young lady from Tennessee who is workcationing with her boyfriend for a year. Everyone has a good story. Stepping out to buy a book turns into a few hours of my life evaporating away in a most pleasant fashion. 

I drop the new acquisition off at the hotel room and it is time for my pre-dinner snack. Back to the Cafe Turin for the seafood special of the day. Three urchins plucked from the see this morning and a local glass of white. I’m starting to order and navigate the check in French. Maybe it’s the wine and maybe the staff are just thankful to have someone meet them halfway on their language. I can say confidently that I don’t get the same treatment in Germany and I (allegedly) speak that language.

I took my book to another bar and realized that going out to drink after eating three sea urchins probably was not my most wise idea ever. I began to seek out greasy food. That’s a little difficult here. Restaurants aren’t open late and the hours Google Maps lists are more of a suggestion. Even the ubiquitous kebab shops are nowhere to be found. I was about to throw in the towel and hit the Golden Arches when I stumbled on a Cambodian restaurant. When I told the owner where I was from he smiled. Long Beach has the largest expat population of Cambodians in the world. Everyone in Cambodia knows someone in Long Beach. He hands me some noodles and sriracha. The real stuff from Irwindale. I realize it’s been ages since I’ve had any spicy food and it feels like a relief.

A Magner’s and I’m about ready for bed. A day well spent.