How Nice It Was To Go To Nice

I completely forgot to write up the trip to France that I took a few weeks ago. As you recall I was in desperate need of a break and decided to go and visit a friend of mine who lives in a tiny place in France. Where he lives isn't even big enough to be described as a village so I guess you'd call it a Hamlet.

I flew out of freezing cold England on Saturday afternoon and arrived an hour and a half later in Nice. My friend collected me and we went to have dinner at his friends house in a very beautiful picturesque medieval town called Tourettes-Sur-Loup (I kid you not). Although it was dark when we arrived I could tell that the place was stunning. Luckily we visited again on my way back to the airport as I really wanted to take some photos.

We had a lovely evening at his friends house. I was greeted with the strongest gin and tonic I've ever had and we sat outside on the rooftop terrace and ate little biscuits while the Goan fish curry did its thing on the stove. There were 2 other people there and the conversation flowed in a mixture of English and French - we discussed nuances of language and tried to convince the 2 French visitors that is was indeed called the English Channel!

Where my friend lives - view from his house!

Then unfortunately our lightweight host then had to go and lie down with a whitey. They'd been smoking quite a lot and he had imbibed a lot of gin and champagne. The curry was turned off and we occupied ourselves for the next hour or so until we realised that it was getting really late so we should sort dinner out for ourselves! By the time we left for the hour and a half drive to my friends house it was gone midnight - and I had been up since 7am.

My friends little gite is heated by a wood burning stove so you can imagine how heavenly that smells, he chucked some wood in and we turned in for the night (separately may I add - he is actually just a friend not a love interest!). After a toasty night I threw open the wooden shutters (one of the best things about European houses in my opinion) the next morning to be greeted by a bright and sunny Provence morning so we decided to go out for coffee to a village where his (extraordinarily handsome but married) neighbour had a beautiful shop.

The neighbours gorgeous little shop

And this is pretty much how I spent the next 3 days. No laptop, no phone, just me and my Kindle sitting outside (often with a hot water bottle, the wind coming off the snow-covered nearby mountains was a little chilly) reading a biography on the inimitable Martha Gellhorn. I ate a lot of French bread with pate and goats cheese and drank milky coffee all day. Then when I got a bit cold I would go back inside and warm myself by the stove. In the evenings I read at the table in front of the stove in his toasty little kitchen and we would chat until late. It was great.

On my last day we decided to leave his place late morning and spend the whole day meandering back down to Nice where my flight was leaving at 8pm. We had coffee and croissants in Bargemon then went to Fayence where it was market day. I bought some cured meat and the most wonderful Comte cheese and we wandered up to the ancient battlement and viewed the valley bathed in sunlight spreading out below us. It was gorgeous. I later found out that while I was basking in the sun that afternoon, Brighton was experiencing a blizzard!

Medieval Village of Tourettes

After Fayence we drove back down to Tourettes which must be one of the most beautiful places in France. It's known as the City of Violets which has to be one of my favourite smells. The village was enchanting and so photogenic I'm amazed my friend didn't just start to drag me along! After taking a billion photos there we then drove to Cagnes-sur-Mer to see the old castle at the top of the hill.

Getting out of that teeny village proved to be a different matter. The one-way 'street' that my friend had to squeeze down was so tight that I had my hands over my eyes most of the time. He actually managed to rip the wing mirror off the car on the side of a house and how we got out of there was a miracle. These places were built before cars and there was no way we could turn around so we just had to keep on inching forward while praying for the best.

Then it was a nice smooth ride back down to Nice where I caught my plane home. In the queue to board the plane there was a woman behind me who had joined from the side - she was definitely trying to push in which is like a red flag to the British. I was having none of it and kept blocking her every snidey move. Then guess who I was sitting next to on the plane? Yup, the pusher-in hag. 

Once on board this shameless harridan (I meant it, queue jumping is despicable to us) she then raised her game by composing a long email with the irritating button sound on, painted her nails with a nasty shade of Chanel coral polish which stank to high heaven, then she sat back to have a sleep and gave a sniff every 6 seconds until I wanted to punch her in the face. But apart from that the journey was fine!

It was brilliant to see my friend and the break was exactly what I needed. It was a Goldilocks kind of holiday - not too short, not too long, not too active, not too quiet, not too hot, not too cold, and with just enough food and conversation. It was perfect.