Red, White and Blue in Nice, France

Bonjour from sunny, warm Nice! We’re in the Cote d’Azure for five weeks, trying to figure out how to drive, dress and eat like the French. Eating has been no problem. Oh la la!

The internet has been a problem though so we have not been able to add to the blog very easily. Fingers crossed that now all is well.

Before leaving Italy, we travelled to Milan to pick up our new Renault Kangoo. Yes, I know it looks like we should have 11 kids travelling with us but with our two bikes, we wanted something with enough space to store them. Renault has a great program for long term visitors to Europe. You “buy” the car and then return it to the company so they can sell it second hand. You only pay for the days you use; it includes unlimited mileage, both drivers and insurance. Much cheaper than renting.

After Milan, we explored Cinque Terre (“five lands”) for a few days. Wow! What a beautiful part of Italy. These five, ancient villages cling to the cliffs along the Adriatic Sea. We walked between the villages on trails that varied from a flat, wide, autobahn to a steep, narrow, goat trail. Our studio was a teeny tiny place but had a huge terrace for relaxing and enjoying the view over Manarola to the sea.

Upon arriving in Nice, we were stunned to see paparazzi lurking about our street. Photographers, tv cameras, buzzing helicopters, hoards of gawking people. Had our reputations preceded us? What was going on? Was the Tour de France recruiting David? After glancing at the local paper’s headlines, we realized that we had famous neighbours. The Brangelina twins were born the day after we arrived at the hospital in the next block.

We had mixed feelings about leaving Bologna. We were looking forward to exploring a new city but Bologna had provided us with the language and cultural challenges that we had been looking for. During our last month in Bologna, we stayed in a great flat with all the comforts of home. I took a Bolognese cooking course at a school run by a mother and her daughter, http://www.lavecchiascuola.com/ It was delicious and I LOVE being able to eat my homework! We made tortellini (pork and mortadella stuffed pasta, shaped like the navel of Venus...who knew?), tortelloni (spinach and ricotta stuffed pasta), tagliattelle, long, thin, strands of yellow pasta, first made to honour the marriage of the golden locked daughter of a wealthy Bolognese merchant. The width of proper Bolognese tagliatelle is somehow related to the height of Torre Garisenda, the city’s tallest tower. The food obsessed Italians have strict controls and annual competitions for cutting the pasta. My offering was cut nowhere near this consistently thin. My favourite pasta story was about the “priest stranglers”, the plain flour and water pasta made in lean times without using the expensive eggs. The priests, being used to eating the very best of foods as contributed by their congregations, were reported to have choked on this poor version of pasta while eating!

David has continued to train for his 700 km bike ride from Geneva to Nice through the Alps. As all serious cyclists do (so he tells me), he decided to shave his legs. I warned him that once he started shaving them, it would be an ongoing job. (Mom, do you remember telling me this years ago?) David was surprised to feel his leggy stubble two days later. I was also surprised, but not in a good way. We now share leg shaving tips. Good grief.

Being of British and Scottish ancestry, it has really hit home here in Nice that my skin does NOT like to tan. Freckles? No problem. Sunburn? Even easier. Despite thinking that I had put sun cream on everywhere, the tiny bit that I missed is now a shocking red. But tanning? Nope. I slather on 50 SPF, trying to stave off the burning rays in hopes of becoming an even golden brown. However, I think it has finally hit home that it’s just not going to happen. In this land of sun kissed goddesses (and there are many, David keeps telling me!) I have renounced my tanning attempts. I vow to stay covered with sun cream, crowned in a big brim hat and stay under my beach umbrella. I realize that my white skin will glow on the beach, but I will glow proudly.

Except, unfortunately, when I glow blue. Embarrassingly, my last foray to the beach with a new navy and white striped beach mat had the blue come off all over me. My legs looked like they were horribly bruised. David was getting nasty looks as we walked home afterwards. My big hat and sunglasses didn’t help matters either!

Well, I’m off to buy more sun cream.

Au revoir!
Leslie