My blog titles keep expanding. I’m becoming worse at being succinct and to
the point….I think it’s because I use all of that bluntness up at work. When I get home, I’m excited about being
verbose. Thus the life of an
accountant.
I went to Nice last weekend.
All weekend, I had a virtual playlist running in my head. It seemed that every sight invoked a new
song. Some people talk to themselves
when they have ample amounts of free time alone. Some people, like me, sing. At least it was never out loud…just in my
head. Like that episode of Scrubs where
the woman hears life only as a musical.
That’s what I heard all weekend.
There are worse things!
“Leaving on a Jet Plane” by John Denver
I left on Friday morning super early – i.e. I was out of bed
at 4AM and on my bike by 4:40 to catch the 5:00 train to Schiphol. By the time I got to the airport, I was dazed
and confused. Bike rides that early are
thrilling and disorienting. I learned
that when put to the task, I can be at the train station in 8 minutes from my
flat. Not bad! How did you do it with luggage, you might be
wondering? Ah, the beauty of
backpacking. Seriously, there’s nothing
cooler than slugging on a backpack and hoping on a bike to catch a train. I flew Transavia.com this time, which sounds
super cheap and gross, but it must be somehow related to KLM because all of the
airport attendants were KLM.
“Wanted: Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi
I will say they need to do a better job of marking their
boarding passes though. At that early in
the morning, I had printed the document sent via email when I booked. At the top, it stated very clearly that I
should bring this document to the airport to board. It didn’t say anything about checking
in. Nor did the kind lady at the luggage
area say anything about checking in. Nor
did the security officers – they just sent me through. That my friends, is how you get back to a
gate without a boarding pass: carry a piece of paper that appears to be
official (in this case a printed pdf).
At the gate, I got concerned when they were scanning other pieces of
paper, all of which had bar codes on them.
I noticed mine didn’t have a seat number or a bar code, but I figured no
matter, this is like Southwest, right?
The cost was certainly in the ballpark.
Ever almost created an international incident? No?
Well, I have the distinct pleasure of saying now that I almost
have. The Dutch lady at the gate was
none too happy that I made it all the way back to a gate without an approved
boarding card. I got a stern lecture
about appropriate airport behavior and was told that I was lucky they were
letting me on. I didn’t want to argue,
so I left it at that. But I’m a seasoned
flyer. I go everywhere by air. I think both are at fault – Transavia should
have clearly labeled “This is not a boarding pass” on the stuff they sent when
I booked. They also should have sent an email
for me to check in online – never got one.
The nice lady at luggage should have stopped me. Security should have stopped me. I should have been smart enough to figure out
I was missing something important. It
was 6AM. Give me a break. I’m not smart at that hour.
“Lean on Me” by Bill Withers
No matter, I got on the flight bound for Nice. Because I was literally the last person to
check in, I got a middle seat at the back of the plane for bad behavior. I ended up with a guy who clearly had not
gone to bed from the night before next to me, who proceeded to use my shoulder
as a pillow and half my seat as his own.
There was a distinct odor: I call it “Last Night’s Regret by Drunk Dude
who won’t use the window to lean against”.
It wasn’t nice (pun intended).
Flight could not have ended earlier.
The cool part was that the flight went in right over the water in Nice
and there were incredible views of the Alps and the ocean all at once. I couldn’t reach my camera because I was
handicapped by Drunk Dude, but I’ll let you imagine…think grand.
“Wheels on the bus” by no one
I got off the plane in a hurry and headed for the bus
platform, which I found relatively easy to navigate. 6 Euros got me to the center of Nice (RS said
it was 4, but no matter). The buses I
found in Nice were dreadful. No real organization,
just random stops and no announcement of said stops. I really had no clue where I needed to get
off because we kept flying by stops and I had no idea which part of the route
we were on. I decided that I would spend
Friday in Nice, seeing what there was to see and then head to
Villefranche-sur-mer where my hotel was at.
I decided breakfast first was in order so I hopped off at what I thought
looked like the Old Town and got lucky.
The first thing I see is 2 bars right next to each other, one for Amsterdam
and one for Oxford. I can’t escape
reminders of work!
“These boots are made for walking” by Nancy Sinatra
A bit of an interlude here to note I brought 2 pairs of
shoes, which I was proud of my discretion in light packing. It turned out to be the worst decision. I switched to some casual sandals from my
ballet flats at the airport and quickly realized that walking in those shoes
was going to be impossible. So I
switched back to ballet flats and then “Houston, we have a problem”: those hurt
as well. These boots were not made for
walking. I basically limped my way
through Nice and Monaco for the weekend.
I will never light pack on shoes again.
French accordion music:
The Old Town of Nice was beautiful. A bit seedy the way only the French can pull
off, but amazing none the less. I saw
the church and the famous gelato stand that has about 87 flavors of ice cream,
most of which you wouldn’t feed a pet, much less consume yourself(Avocado? Yuck). I enjoyed a fresh squeezed orange juice on
the main plaza, which squeezed 4 euros out of me. That is when I realized I was not in the
Netherlands anymore….everything was super expensive! The weather was the other sign. I slipped out of my long sleeved work shirt
and wasn’t cold…in fact I thought I might even be sweating a bit.
I then wandered down the open air market where they sold all
manner of items. It was a bit like
Paris, but not as big. I walked very
slow and just enjoyed the hustle of fish hawkers, fruit mongers and cheese
sellers. What a scene.
Part 2 coming…..
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