The One Day Nice Marathon. Kinda.

Thursday, October 04, 2007.

Was a pretty full day today, I think. After waking and showering, did a bit of computer work and photo updates, then got ready to do some walking around town.

After studying the map I’d bought at the train station, I decided I would spend the morning exploring old Nice, and the park and cemetery there, as well as the Marches des Fleurs. Turned out the flower market was more than just flowers, and I ended up going up and down the aisles, buying fruit, cheese, and bread for lunch. Found some amazing figs, too, that were the biggest and sweetest I’ve ever tasted.

It was so quiet and peaceful first thing in the morning. The few people I did see wandering the streets were vendors setting up their shops and people walking their dogs.

In the afternoon, I decided to go to the Musee des Beaux Arts. It was small, but I did discover a new painter there that I really like. His name is Mossa, and his paintings seem normal on the surface, or from far away, but upon closer inspection, the horrifying details come to light… fascinating stuff!

After the museum, I went back to the Promenade des Anglais and watched the ocean for a while. So beautiful, so blue, so relaxing. Made my way back to the hotel, and had a simple dinner of bread, cheese, wine.

After a bit of writing in my hotel room, I decided to move down to the lobby and get hooked up to the hotel’s wi-fi. Settled in the lobby and started typing away. In the corner behind me, a fellow seemed to be setting up a sound system and a synthesizer of some sort. Hmm, live music, perhaps? As I worked, he warmed up. Shortly after seven p.m., several elderly folks wandered into the lounge as well, and settled in for some cocktails. A few minutes later, he got started…

… with cheesy muzak. Ack. (Is that Burt Bacharach…???)

Ok, not so bad, I can work with this. I can ignore the muzak… then the dancing started. Ok, 70 year old women dancing the cha-cha in front of me while I try to type and write? Not so much. I was able to last another 15 minutes or so, then finally gave up and escaped back to the silence and sanity of my own room.

When I’m 70 years old, will I end up in Nice, France, dancing the cha-cha to bad muzak?

Yipes.