Wintering in Paris can be a little hard on us Old Folk. The joints ache. The muscles are stiff. The feet are cold. Shopping can be like mounting a small expedition into the Hindu Kush.
Watching France 2 TeleMatin and the Meteo seems to show at least one consistently warm place during the winter in France. That place is Corsica. But we don't want to escape to Napoleon's Island. No, we'd prefer something a bit closer to home and somewhere that might not require either aircraft nor ship to reach.
Bordeaux seems warm-ish. Le Pay Basque Nord (the French side of Basque Country) looks promising. And there's a little pocket of warmth just next to the Italian border along the Mediterranean Sea. Menton, Monaco, and, hmmm... wot's this? Nice. Huh. We hear it's nice in Nice.
To sweeten the pot, a friend was looking to spend *gasp* a winter in Paris. So, why not let them stay in our apartment there while we seek the sun in Nice? Why not, indeed. Oh, and let's stretch this a wee bit while we're at it. Let's make this a three month warmth seeking sun loving adventure, shall we?
So plans were made and destinations booked and... cleaning scaffolding goes up on the apartment we were to rent and the booking agency offers other options. Except that the place we originally rented was off the main drag and was quiet and peaceful.
The replacement apartment? You guessed it. At the feet of the building is the Moyen Corniche just beyond the eastern Rond Point of the city where everyone and their uncle accelerates up the hill as they launch their way toward Eze, Monaco, Menton, and the Italian border. It seems they need a seriously furious running head start just to get up the hill.
There goes peace and quiet. But what's a few loud motorcycles and poorly driven 400bhp Subaru four cylinder vehicles, right? Ugh.
On the other side of things, the Heavy Iron/les Poids Lourds (not in the French sense of the phrase, but in the Western American motorhead sense) are very much like quiet sharks trolling the waters. The seriously fast stuff is quiet as they move in/out of town. Why flaunt 12 cylinders of Madness in your Lambo or Ferrari? Why spool up that Twin Turbo in your Porsche. *tsk*tsk*
Jude was the first to find a good solution to the noise. Earplugs. For sleep. Fortunately it works well and things aren't as bad as all that.
In fact, things are quite good. The front balcony allows us to sit out in the sun where I can keep an eye on les Poids Lourds movement. Working on our bronzage is an important perk of this experience. With luck we will return to Paris in the Springtime well tanned.
What cultural points can we win with the Parisians? Who cares. It's gorgeous down here and we're enjoying every single sun-drenched moment of it. Our old bones and muscles are in Absolute Heaven!
It's nice in Nice.
Watching France 2 TeleMatin and the Meteo seems to show at least one consistently warm place during the winter in France. That place is Corsica. But we don't want to escape to Napoleon's Island. No, we'd prefer something a bit closer to home and somewhere that might not require either aircraft nor ship to reach.
Bordeaux seems warm-ish. Le Pay Basque Nord (the French side of Basque Country) looks promising. And there's a little pocket of warmth just next to the Italian border along the Mediterranean Sea. Menton, Monaco, and, hmmm... wot's this? Nice. Huh. We hear it's nice in Nice.
To sweeten the pot, a friend was looking to spend *gasp* a winter in Paris. So, why not let them stay in our apartment there while we seek the sun in Nice? Why not, indeed. Oh, and let's stretch this a wee bit while we're at it. Let's make this a three month warmth seeking sun loving adventure, shall we?
So plans were made and destinations booked and... cleaning scaffolding goes up on the apartment we were to rent and the booking agency offers other options. Except that the place we originally rented was off the main drag and was quiet and peaceful.
The replacement apartment? You guessed it. At the feet of the building is the Moyen Corniche just beyond the eastern Rond Point of the city where everyone and their uncle accelerates up the hill as they launch their way toward Eze, Monaco, Menton, and the Italian border. It seems they need a seriously furious running head start just to get up the hill.
There goes peace and quiet. But what's a few loud motorcycles and poorly driven 400bhp Subaru four cylinder vehicles, right? Ugh.
On the other side of things, the Heavy Iron/les Poids Lourds (not in the French sense of the phrase, but in the Western American motorhead sense) are very much like quiet sharks trolling the waters. The seriously fast stuff is quiet as they move in/out of town. Why flaunt 12 cylinders of Madness in your Lambo or Ferrari? Why spool up that Twin Turbo in your Porsche. *tsk*tsk*
Jude was the first to find a good solution to the noise. Earplugs. For sleep. Fortunately it works well and things aren't as bad as all that.
In fact, things are quite good. The front balcony allows us to sit out in the sun where I can keep an eye on les Poids Lourds movement. Working on our bronzage is an important perk of this experience. With luck we will return to Paris in the Springtime well tanned.
What cultural points can we win with the Parisians? Who cares. It's gorgeous down here and we're enjoying every single sun-drenched moment of it. Our old bones and muscles are in Absolute Heaven!
It's nice in Nice.
