I know a little place


 

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Nice

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The role of gentleman traveler requires one to wake an hour before sunrise ― while the quotidian tourist is still asleep ― and set out on foot to Vieux Nice. You are the street sweeper, the brasserie table setter, the backpacked student se précipiter à l'école,  moving about town alone, unencumbered by maps and injunctions and standard procedures. Chez moi is three blocks from the beach. A street sweeper on Rue de la Buffa. The checkerboard pavement of Place Massena. No fig leaf for this Apollo. Tour de L'Horloge (1725). Not a church, but an alarm system. There's a fire, we're under attack, et cetera. Looking for justice? This way. A toilet? Right this way. Je vous en pris. Ruelle Halle aux Herbes. Place Halle aux Herbes. Swaying laundry off Place Rossetti. Street signs in this part of town are in both French and Italian. Wonderful names, evocative names. This part of Nice is a poem written in marble and stone. Below is Cathédrale Sainte-Réparate, in Place Rossetti, w...
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Hiking to St. Paul de Vence

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To get a lay of the countryside, it seemed wise to hike the sodden slopes on either side of the Malvan River (it rained last night) with the object of reaching St. Paul de Vence, which is near the top of every "France's Prettiest Towns" list ever devised.  The trek begins in Vence by finding the 17th-century Chapelle Sainte-Anne and walking downhill. In about a half-kilometer, a bridge allows you to cross the river, which is running with some vigor today. The shaded path veers sharply uphill here. To gain a little distance, it seems wise to take a right at this navigation sign, called a balise . You can still get to St. Paul and get a few extra steps in. When you reach the paved road, take a left. There is an unnerving amount of traffic on these narrow country lanes, and while it is a good practice to walk on the left side of the road facing traffic, it is a terrible idea when the road curves to the left because oncoming vehicles will have almost no time to adjust to you...
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Gourdon

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"The Earth is made of God's love and the same green cheese as the moon." Because each of us has the equivalent of a Google Translate app in our head, this is what I heard when a bus driver told me no buses go to Gourdon and that I would need a car to visit the mountaintop village. The thing is, Gourdon predates Roman times and the automobile is only a hundred years old. A puzzle piece is missing. We made a deal that he would take me to the Pont du Loup stop on the D2210 road between Vence and Grasse and I'll take it from there. The result was an unforgettable day on Le Chemin du Paradis . What a bus stop it is. Appropriately enough, the Path to Paradise is a difficult one. Even with Fahrenheit temps in the high 50s you will soak through at least one shirt and find yourself, hands on hips, taking a breather every couple hundred meters. At least three pillars that held up the old Chemins de fer de Provence railway are still standing here. Honestly, it's not too lat...
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