Summary
Up, pack, have breakfast and head to our bus to Nice. The drive is beautiful, most of it on roads perched way up the hill from the Mediterranean. We get our rental car which is big by European standards but not big in terms of all the stuff we have to load in it. We’ve missed lunch so buy sandwiches along with our grocery shopping and enjoy a car picnic. We find our lovely villa outside of Saint-Paul-de-Vence and unload. After settling in we head out to explore the beautiful hill town of Saint-Paul. Drinks overlooking the valley on one side then a great dinner under the linden tree on the other side (Le Tilleul).
Details
Today’s another relocation day, but a special one: we’re heading into France! We have a bus to catch so we’re up early, bathe, pack, enjoy one last rushed breakfast and check out. We wheel all the worldly possessions with us to the bus stop. We hang with our future fellow travelers in the hazy sun, trying to ignore the traffic noise whizzing by. We know our bus number and there are FlixBuses here, but none displaying numbers (yet).
Eventually onboard our bus, twenty minutes late, we’re still in the sun. This is intentional though. Nancy thoughtfully put us on the left (port) side of the bus so we’ll be enjoying the view of the Mediterranean coast along the way.
In addition to a view, our seats also have A/C (European, meaning marginal), wifi (in fact) and power (not really). I reach down and do feel a power outlet, but there’s some funny wire thing sticking out of the outlet. I gather it’s somehow unusable. Since I am incapable of bending down enough to take a look, I use my camera to take a picture. Yikes! I find that the wire is just that, a wire sticking out of one of the holes of the A/C outlet. Happily I didn’t die. Once we’re stopped I report this to the proper authorities (the driver). From his reaction, I gather this isn’t an uncommon occurrence.
The sky is hazy, and though the weather report for our department (read “county”), the Alpes-Maritimes, calls for no rain but there are two warnings in effect. Avalanche. For a seaside city?? Well, the “county” goes all the way up into the French alps, so I guess that might make sense.
The day’s news heralds back the safe return of our astronauts from their trip around the moon. It also says that many hundreds of flights across Europe are being cancelled or delayed due to severe weather (among other causes). Fuel shortages due to the US’s spat with Iran isn’t cited as a contributing cause, in what I read. Perhaps the airline schedulers are secretly happy about the cancellation, as that means less fuel required, a silver lining of sorts.
Much of the drive north along the coast is over rolling hills. To flatten things out we’re often driving over long, curving bridges, above valleys (and frequently small villages) below. When we’re not going over a high bridge we’re often going through long, dark tunnels. The bus’s WiFi responds accordingly.
The destination of our bus ride is the airport in Nice where we’ll pick up our rental car for the next two weeks. From the airport we’ll head to our VRBO in Saint Paul de Vence, our home for the next seven days. The place has five or so bedrooms for the four of us. Room for twelve, the listing says. It should be enough for us.
At the frontier (‘border’ for you English speakers) two uniformed officers from the local gendarmerie board the bus and ensure our papers (passports) and faces are well scrutinized and match. When done they wish us a ‘Bonne journée’ (good day).
At the Nice airport, the bus lets us off and we retrieve our luggage. A sign nearby says rental cars are at Terminal 2 (we’re currently at Terminal 1). I spot a train and hurry everyone on board. Correct train, wrong direction. Whoops! That’s the second time I’ve done this in as many days. My fellow travelers are understanding but not amused. They contemplate their collective reaction will be the next time I again try such a stunt. The tram between the terminals is free, but we’re now beyond that so we’re riding illegally, without proper tickets. Thankfully we’re not ‘controlled’ and quickly make a U turn at the next stop.
Hertz gladly shows us the car we’ll be renting for the next fortnight. Oh, no, that won’t do. Much too small. For a mere 1,000 euros we upgrade to something more accommodating (gulp).
Loaded up and mirrors adjusted, we’re on our way. Twenty minutes later we pull into the parking lot of a busy Intermarché grocery store. We shop like we have zero food at home (because we do). We find everything with the exception of eggs. Apparently Trump isn’t the only one incapable of keeping affordable eggs on the store shelves.
There’s still an hour til the magic 4:00 when we can get into our VRBO, so we leisurely enjoy our sandwich lunch in the car in the grocery store parking lot under the shade of a flowering tree. Eventually we drive to our place anyway, just to ensure we can find it, despite it being still too early. We can and do throw caution to the wind and head inside. No one’s here doing last minute cleaning, so we think we’re OK.
The place is indeed spacious but also very nice, and well appointed, with a drop-dead gorgeous view. The pool’s not bad either (albeit cool). We unpack our groceries and suitcases and head back out. We’re very much in the country so getting ‘into town’ requires the car. We drive to Saint Paul de Vence, ten minutes away, and park.
The small hilltop village is bustling with mostly French families and French couples enjoying the lovely weather on a sunny Saturday afternoon. We first encounter a spacious boule (pétoncle/bocce ball) pitch with a half dozen games underway. There are probably as many women as men playing and the skill seems evenly divided. Further along we pass through the gates of the village proper and start walking the inclines of the village streets.
It’s extremely picturesque, as promised, and there are a few bars and restaurants. Mostly the place is predominantly residences and shops aimed at tourists. They’re selling a lot of schlock art, hand-made soaps, candies, perfumes, textiles, and clothes. Nothing we want or need, but it’s interesting. There’s oodles of flowering bushes, vines and trees and they all look super healthy. The citrus trees are laden with flowers portending a bumper crop of lemons, limes, tangerines, and other fruit later in the season. The kumquats are already fully formed, it appears.
We walk around some more, climbing up to the viewing points where offered, looking off into the distance towards the Mediterranean. We read the plaques on the village wall honoring important town dignitaries of the past, including Marc Chagall, who is buried in a cemetery nearby.
The siren song of a bar is too much for us to resist so we install ourselves and order drinks. We’re outside and there are lots of others luxuriating in the evening’s lovely weather. This is a very civil way to enjoy life, we all agree.
There’s a slight glitch in our planning when we arrive at Le Tilleul (The Linden Tree) restaurant for dinner. The place looks great and is quite busy but they cannot locate our reservation. Maybe it’s under a different name? We were required to put down 120 euros (30 each) and so have an email proving we’re due a table now. Yes we do have a reservation, the lady says looking at my phone, but it’s for tomorrow. Whoops! No worries, they can seat us, no problem.
Dinner is delicious, artful, and healthy. We’re there a long while as the place gets more and more full. Eventually we find our way back to our car and temporary home and tuck in for the night. We’re happy with our successful day.
Photos
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