Escape from Heathrow

I though Nice was expensive but London tops it easily. And you don’t get much for your money. I don’t mind paying for good things; I hate paying for poor ones. Those of you unfortunate enough to have to overnight near Heathrow, be sure to skip the Thistle, unless of course you like looking up in the shower at a mildewed, peeling ceiling. Sadly, the most expensive hotel on this trip (about $200) turned out to be by far the worst. But enough grousing. The plane leaves in an hour and if things go as they should, this will be the last on-the-road post.

I’d had a nice Nice day planned for yesterday – go to see the Musee Chagall and the Musee Matisse in Nice, drive over and back to Monaco and then to the airport. Nice is so pleasant. To get to the airport, you simply follow the Promenade des Anglais along the waterfront and, voila’ there you are.

But the two Musee are closed on Tuesday, turning the first part of my plan into a “mardi gras” indeed. But the drive was nice; the coastline is beautiful and there were several towns that would have warranted further scrutiny. They have great names like Cap d’Ail (Cape of Garlic). It would be fun to come back armed with a bushel of money.

The car turn-in and flight went smoothly. If I could have counted on such efficiency, I could have stayed in Nice and flown here in the morning. But, no regrets (except at my choice of hotels) and now I’m checked-in, fed and relaxed.

There’s a lot to be said about a slower pace. The Europeans have figured it out. For example, the independent gym where the hotel sends its guests, doesn’t even open until 0630. They were shocked at my mention of 0500 starts in the U.S., or forbid, 24-hour fitness! Anyway, the bill’s paid and I can meander to the gate with an hour to spare.

Nizza bella

There’s a French restaurant in Albany called Nizza Bella and I often wondered why it had an Italian name. Now I know. Nizza is the Italian rendition of Nice. Although it’s most definitely France, Nice is only about 50 km from Italy and much Italian influence about including pizzerias on about every corner.

Driving on Sunday from Cecina di Mare was a good idea because there was no truck traffic to contend with. I finally found my hotel, the Meurice, just off the Promenade des Anglais, the broad boulevard that circles the Nice beach front. It’s also the center of town. This major city actually sits right on the beach and people stroll the promenade which is lined with grand-looking hotels.

I did some wandering around and found the town delightful. A nice pedestrian-only zone exists near my hotel but steps away are all the major French shopping stores and many boutiques. After a needed nap, I explored for a while and settled on a seafood restaurant where the fresh fish including shellfish made up the entire menu. The oysters were briny and the sole cooked whole then fileted at my table. Quite expensive. In fact, Nice is much more expensive than Italy.

Today I spent at the beach. It was really grand. The water was refreshing and clear so I really enjoyed two separate swims. Lunch at the beach-side restaurant completed the afternoon. For the evening, I’d planned a last Michelin dinner at a port-side restaurant Journi Atelier du Gout. I walked through the amazing old town along the port and soon realized that while it was beautiful, it was also much further than I’d thought. I arrived rather perspired but soon cooled as I sat on the balcony overlooking the beautiful harbor and cityscape.

The dinner stared well with an interesting amuse bouche of chilled carrot-cardamom soup. The salad, described as crudites was wonderful. But I fell for the “americans like lobster” trap and order the special which was only described as langoustines. Unfortunately, the dish seemed to have been prepared in a different kitchen altogether. The lobster was fine but it was served atop a mass of uninspired and boring pasta with red sauce. I barely ate three bites.

Skipped dessert and asked for a cab. It came. I couldn’t see the meter but when we arrived at my hotel about 15 minutes later, the cabbie said “26 euro.” I couldn’t believe it but was in no mood to challenge him. So, my “big night” in Nizza Bella did not end so well. At least the robbery was only figurative. Tomorrow a couple of museums and on to London.