Unlike my last trip to Europe I had no plane mishaps, only spent the expected two hours in Amsterdam, and arrived on time to Nice. Being a bit jet lagged, I called the hotel for a shuttle to pick me up only to discover my hotel was literally across the street! (Though the terminal I flew into did face a different direction.) After checking in, I still had a half day of sightseeing time.

Checking my map, I discovered that downtown wasn't nearly as far from the airport as I initially thought, only 5 kilometers, and the Promenade des Anglais ran along the entire route (the bike trail along the promenade actually ends at the airport). Determined to stretch my legs after too long on the plane, get my bearings should the perpetual French rail strike (and possible bus strike) limit my ability to return to the airport, and a need to stay awake to help overcome jet lag, I decided to walk along the promenade to town and take in the view from the site of the old cliff-top chateau.

The hilltop rises about 90 meters above the rest of town, and an old defensive fort surrounding the oldest parts of the village overlooked the area (and the port on the other side) until around 1700 when it was mostly destroyed in a siege. A few ruins, such as the ancient chapel building (to the right) remain, but mostly the area now serves as a park for residents and an attraction for tourists due to the wonderful panoramic views of the city, the port, and the ocean. To encourage this parts of the fort have been turned into a waterfall, trails and playground equipment have been liberally added, and the entire hillside is illuminated during the night.

Because of the easy access, the wonderful views, the propensity of attractions to close early during low season, and the fact I was too tired to thoroughly explore the area on my first day, I returned multiple times to the chateau park to wander around, do some people watching, and take photos.... Which explains why not all the photos above have the dreary, overcast skies from my first day.

After wandering up to the chateau, making a cursorary pass through Vieux Nice and not discovering any place to quickly grab something to eat (which I later learned meant I simply took the wrong roads), I started back towards the hotel to get some sleep. I stopped at a supermarket on my way back to pick up some dinner and breakfast, where I discovered that my (spoken) French really is as bad, or worse, than I remember it. I discovered this during the process of trying to buy some produce, where I also learned that (at least some) supermarkets in France expect you to weigh your own fruits and vegetables before going to the cashier.... It's amazing how well a simple "bonjour," a smile and nod, a quick glance at the display to determine the cost, and a "merci" works... unless you don't know the rules.

The next two days involved mostly meetings, though we did have some reasonably nice meals... except for the Beaujolais Nouveau wine that most of the French committee members avoided. I had one glass of the banana-flavored beverage, and decided that the French have cheap wine that is just as bad as ours. Saturday night we did have a remarkably nice meal at a spa and hotel up in St Paul de Vence, though I felt a little bad for the vegetarians on the committee, who were offered either fish or a plate of steamed vegetables for the "vegetarian option" at various meals.

After the meeting, I enjoyed my last night in the hotel, slept late, caught a bus downtown to the train station, and walked over to the hostel I stayed at for the next four nights. This was another new hostel experience for me, as I've never stayed at one during low season. My first night only two people were staying there, and even on the busiest night five people were there. Given that half the experience is a chance to chat with people from all over, it was a bit less exciting than my previous hostel stays.

The travel books I looked through all suggested that the new Nice lightrail line was opening sometime in 2007. I found out this was indeed the case -- it opened just before I flew home, and they were setting up a ferris wheel for the celebration. While I never got to ride the line, I got to see the drivers practicing their routes. Having lived in a city with light rail, I was vastly amused to see this segment of the route running through grass. They must have installed the grass just before I arrived, because it was already torn up by the time I left Nice.

Because the weather forcast I had seen suggested that Nice would be cloudy and rainy the entire time I had for sightseeing (of course, it was nice during my meeting) the beautiful weather seemed like a stroke up luck, so I spent most of this day outside walking around various parts of nice. I walked through Vieux Nice, sat on the beach eating a pan bagnat, took a peek inside the Hotel Negresco (where the cheap rooms cost more than 15x what I paid at the hostel), walked through the Chateau park again, and walked around
the Nice port gawking at the expensive yachts and marveling the outrageously expensive yachts.

Place Garibaldi, at the northestern corner of the old town was not terribly exciting since the entire plaza was torn up and fenced off due to light rail construction, but the war memorial on the cliff below the chateau was quite impressive, overlooking the port and the ocean with statuary designed by artist Alfred Janniot (whose works were on display at the Musee des Beaux Arts while I was there).

Rather early in the evening (around 5:30) it started to get dark, and by 6 the sky was pitch black and all tourist attractions were closed. I bought a baguette and some other goodies from a grocery store and sat on the benches along the promenade and read a book, listened to the waves on the beach and relaxed. Between the lights along the promenade and those from places like the Hotel Negresco (where the jazz statue was located), I had no problems reading.

On my second full day of sightseeing it was overcast with a few drips of rain falling, so I was glad my plans had me visiting museums. I wandered up the hills though some of the nearby suburbs to the Musee Matisse. My guidebook referred to most of the buildings along the way as "piles," which I both found amusing and agreed with.... Lots of mid-class hotels from the mid 50s that tried to appear fancy at the time, died out, and are now condos in need of repair.

On my map, the musee appeared to be a round building -- which turned out to be an ancient roman amphitheater near the Matisse museum. Instead, the museum was inside a rather blocky building with a rather gaudy red building with painted ornamented trim.... For any other museum, it would have been quite strange, but I thought it was appropriate given the subject.

After spending an hour or two looking at various Matisse works, I wandered around the park outside -- a 600-year old olive grove where Nice holds their annual jazz festival. I wandered up to the adjacent Eglise Notre Dame and looked inside the church, though the adjacent museum for the church's monestary was closed for the afternoon siesta. I spent a while longer walking through the park, trying to decide if I could get the full experience of the ruined roman city of Cemenelum without paying for admission to the archeological museum.

I decided to pay up, despite the fact that the musee looked dinky, I could walk through the amphitheater for free, and I could see most of the city from the park. It was a wise decision, because despite being small the mueseum was loaded with interesting artifacts they exhumed from the ruins including statuary of various kinds, coin, and sarcophagi as well as standard pots and other daily items. The museum also turned out to be larger than I initially expected. I was also able to see
the ruins up close, look at maps describing the layout and function of the buildings, and even walk on a paved section of an ancient roman road.

Returning from the archeological museum, I stoped by the contemporary art museum, despiting being warned off by my parents. However, it was the one day a week the museum was closed, so I had to satisfy myself by looking at the statues in their garden, such as this disco-dragon. My guidebook suggested this garden was a common stop for city drunkards, and that seemed to be true. Granted, it was the day the museum was closed, but there were as many bums as tourists in the garden (in fact, I had to carefully construct this photo to avoid seeing one polishing his shoe with fountain water).

I was planning on having a quiet evening reading back at the hostel, but the hoppin' place now had 5 people staying there, and four of us decided to go out to a bar and chat (the 5th unlucky person was sick). It wasn't a terribly authentic bar, and at 7 euros a beer it was frickin' expensive.... Though after happy hour and the free beer from the band (who took a liking to our table of "Australians"), the price wasn't too excessive for three beers.

On my third day, I braved the crowd of striking transport workers outside the bus station to discover that the bus to Monaco was still running, and I decided to chance the possibility that it would stop running halfway though the day, stranding me in
Monaco. So, for a 1.30€ bus ticket and an hour of winding roads along the costal Corniche Inferieure, I was in Monaco.

I climbed the hill on the "Rampe Major" near the Place d'Armes, where I got off the bus, to see the Prince's palace. Unfortunately, the palace is not open to tourists in the low season. After taking a look at the palace exterior, I wandered around the patriotically-festooned Monaco Ville, the old part of town on the hill near the palace. I'm not sure if the area is always swathed in red and white, or if the recent public holiday was the occasion, but nearly every window had a flag clinging to the sill.

I grabbed a sandwich for lunch and ate overlooking the ocean in one of the statue gardens near the palace. These are filled with all sorts of strange artworks, such as this musical number. However, by far most of them are devoted to (apparently) the most popular topic: contorted naked people. I found this vastly amusing considering that it is illegal in Monaco to walk around in a swimsuit outside the immediate vicinity of the beach.

As I was heading back down the hill, I stopped by the palace for the daily noontime changing of the guard ceremony. Given that this is like any other such ceremony, where photos mainly contain tourists with cameras in the air, I decided to give my index finger a rest.

Heading down the hill, I decided to wander out onto the pier/breakwater to look back on the city from the water. As I started in that direction I noticed a large mob of people running up and down the pier in what appear to be some sort of race. It was a little annoying to continually dodge runners, until I discovered that due to this event the usually restricted-access far end of the pier was open. As I started to head back to town, I worried I'd be dodging runners all day but upon further examination it was a short running track where runners appeared to be continually running laps.

I wandered around the port, looking through all the boats I'll buy after my fortuitous streak of 5 lottery wins. Unfortunately, since I haven't even won the first lottery, I moved on and headed up towards Monte Carlo, where I just knew my luck would change.

I passed through the tunnel under the Fairmont hotel, which has beautiful see views, passed by the Monte Carlo Symphony's home, and wandered up towards the casino. First, I walked through the gardens on top of the Fairmont hotel, which backs on the casino (see above). Then I wandered around to the lavish front entrance.

The security guards eyed my suspiciously, as they could tell I didn't have the requisite 5 lottery wins needed to enter. I considered checking my bag and camera at the coat check so I could wander into the casino, but I decided to simply peer in through the glass before heading back outside to admire the cars.

I wandered up through the garden in front of the casino, where I encountered my first banana tree (which even had tiny bananas on it) and a very strange plant, the cactus palm, which only grows along the Riviera around Christmas time.

After wandering down towards the beach, walking past the Grimaldi Forum (the convention center and home of the country's parlimentary body) and through the shuttered beach restaruants, I headed back towards the old part of town where I knew I could find a cheaper dinner.

After grabbing some food and snapping some photos I found the bus stop to catch the bus back to nice. Luckily, buses were still running, though due to reduced quantities (or perhaps the continual train strike) the bus was standing-room-only for the entire hour and a half ride.

On Wednesday, I travelled on the same bus out to Menton, near the Italian border. Because it was a rather gloomy, rainy day, I didn't mind the rather long ride and enjoyed the scenery without getting soaked. Upon arrival in town, I wandered through the outdoor market through the center of town down to the beach. Even in Menton (30,000 people) they have a casino! Wandering along the beach leads to the port and the Musee Jean Cocteau which overlooks it in a "La Bastion," a small fort built by the Prince of Monaco in the 1600s.

Wandering in the museum to get out of the rain, I was introduced to the work of Jean Cocteau -- an artist I had never heard of. He seemed to specialize in crayon-on-paper drawings, with a few excursions into painting and pottery and he seemed to meet with some local success. However, I was not very impressed. He appeared to be overwhelmed with his own importance -- he helped organize and design the museum himself, and (despite its small size) there are multiple photos of him and Picasso, as if saying "See, Picasso associated with me! I must be good!"

After grabbing some lunch at the beachside supermarket (for all your beachside needs, including swimsuits) I decided to head up the hill to the best view in town, which my guidebook observes is reserved for the dead... the cemetary. On the way up, I passed the Basilique St-Michel in a dinky little square at the top of a staircase that would make me think at least three or four times before attending church every Sunday. It was so steep that I walked by it three or four times wondering where this "road" was that my map claimed existed.

After winding my way through a variety of pedestrian walkways and narrow roads, I found myself at the gates of the cemetary. Evidently, this particular Menton cemetary is best known in some circles as the burial site of William Ellis, the supposed inventor of rugby. In fact, the entire way up the hill were various signs discussing Ellis and rugby. As you can tell by the very fact that I took a photo of the grave, I'm obviously a closet rugby fan.... Even if my knowledge of the rules basically extends to the fact you can run with the ball (Hint: I got that from the tombstone).

As you can see, the view from the cemetary is quite impressive. And those dead (with X-ray vision, at least) can see Italy as well as a commanding view of the town and its surroundings. However, I was impressed by the cemetary itself. I spent quite some time marveling at the mausoleums. If William Ellis is one of the big draws, he certainly resides in the low-class section of the graveyard. A few of the upscale mausoleums at the crest of the hill appeared to be larger than my house!

After enjoying the view for a bit, I wandered back down into town towards Menton's Musee des Beaux-Arts, which is housed in a former summer palace for the Monaco royal family. This free museum was surrounded by a citrus grove filled with an assortment of statues, mainly stiff-looking busts of presumably important people. I had an interesting time looking at the citrus, which ranged from standard lemons, limes, clementines, and oranges to strange fruit I had never heard of such as a "limequat." I should mention that I love the French name for grapefruit.... The garden's pamplemousse were huge.

The Musee itself was a little disappointing, though I guess you get what you pay for. The lighting was poor throughout the house, except in the basement. And while there were a few really nice pieces including a few by local artists, for the most part there was nothing to write home about.
After returning to Nice on another packed-to-overflowing bus, the weather had cleared enough that I decided to wander around town and enjoy my last evening before moving on. Apparently, the ferris wheel was now nearly completed and they were putting on the finishing touches. Despite Vieux Nice being nearly deserted, there were a few areas, like the square around this lit church that were still worth wandering through.

After again spending time down on the beach listening to the waves, relaxing, and reading, I returned to my hostel room for one more night. The next morning after checking out, I slogged through rather heavy rain to the bus station to catch a ride to Cannes.
Arriving in Cannes, I was expecting to get dropped off about 2 blocks from my hotel at the bus station.... But I obviously did not read carefully enough, because Cannes has two bus stations and the one for intercity buses was predictably the one furthest from my hotel. Amusingly, I was not the only English-speaking traveller on the bus. I can see why some Americans give the rest of us a bad name -- clearly he, like me, was a little surprised at the location of the final stop. Now I had been paying attention where the bus was going, thinking "this isn't exactly where I expected to go, maybe I should get off while I know where I am" when the bus driver finally announced "Terminus." Now this other guy was wandering around hysterically asking everyone in English "Is this the end of the line?" One would think the fact everyone is getting off the bus, the bus is no longer moving, and the bus driver announcing "terminus" (even with no knowledge of French) would make this painfully clear....
Cannes appeared to have only one hostel, whose contact information is out of date (even from my 2007 guidebook)! So I booked a hotel online, finding a deal at only 30€s a night -- not too much more than a hostel, with the added bonus of a private bathroom. Pulling my suitcase slighting longer than expected, I arrived at the hotel and checked in.

Since I was already wet, I decided to head back out to get some food and get my bearings. I wandered along the coastal Promenade de la Croisette, past the Palais des Festivals, home of the Cannes Film Festival, down to the Carlton Intercontinental. This hotel is evidently a well known luxurious resort, though I obviously do not circulate amongst the right circles -- I had never heard of the place.

Despite still having some daylight, I returned to my hotel to dry off and (gasp!) due some work. (I had more papers to read for a different program committee, whose deadline was only made clear once I was in France... and late on the reviews.) Luckily, the rain made the need to do work on vacation a little more bearable.

In the morning, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and after breakfast had nearly stopped, so I decided to head out to the island of Ile Saint-Honorat, one of the Lerins Islands in sight of Cannes. Ile Saint-Honorat is home to a handful of monks who have owned the island nearly continuously for more than 1500 years.

Unfortunately, my reluctance to commit to a boat trip until the rain subsided made me (barely) miss the 10 am trip, so I wandered up the hill to a hilltop church overlooking Cannes, where I had a good view of the Palais des Festivals (above, left). The hilltop Eglise Notre Dame d'Esperance contains a the Musee de la Castre (left), which includes a variety of paintings, as well as an assortment of historical artifacts from all over the world. Supposedly they have a large collection of old musical instruments, but that part of the museum appeared to be locked off and I heard what sounded like someone practicing some sort of string instrument.
Finally, the noontime departure for the island approached, so I returned to the pier. At first, it appeared I would be the only passenger. The purser made it clear to me (despite my poor French) that if I was the only passenger that we would be taking the crappy boat, as opposed to the swank two story tourist yacht where they had all just finished their lunch break. I found this very amusing. Especially since just before we left two additional passengers came down. They decided three was enough to take the swanky boat... Until she discovered that one of the additional passengers was travelling on a reduced fare (relatives of a monk, I think). So we had to get off the swanky boat and board their old rusty boat.

The island itself was very peaceful and relaxing -- a big change from the bustle of Nice, Monaco, and Cannes. I imagine during the high season when the swanky tourist boat transports a hundred tourists back and forth each hour that the island isn't so peaceful, however in mid-November, I found the solitude a welcome change.

A leisurely stroll around the island took about two hours, not counting stops for a snack and to visit the monestary, and the island has perhaps six tiny little chapels in various state of upkeep, ranging from ruins to recently (re)built, surrounding the central grape vineyards.

On the eastern and western tips are the remnants of Napoleonic cannon furnaces, from the 18th century during one of the periods the island was wrested from monastic control. Evidently the idea of these devious devices was to warm cannonballs until they glowed, bringing risk of fire to damaged ships. Standard balls were inserted at the top of the ramp near the chimney end, a fire was lit on the bottom side compartment, and the rising heat would create glowing hot weaponry in just half an hour.

On the ocean side of the island stands the 15th century fortified monestary. Luckily the entrance is now accessible via stairs. Historically the only entrance was via a retractable ladder, making access problematic. This is quite an amazing structure. About half is in ruins, with the ground floor room open to the sky. On the other half, a visitor can walk up to the rooftop for a quick peek inside the modern monestary as well as panoramic views of the ocean.

The interior is amazing to me as well. A four-story stone spiral staircase transports you up to the roof (one goes down to a closed-off basement or storage area, as well). Multiple stone archways support the remaining floors and ceilings, and similar arches are apparent throughout the ruined sections as well.... And all of this on a monastic island.

My only regret about visiting St Honorat was that the monk's gift shop was closed for the one week I was in France. The one item I figured I would buy, even before I left the states, was a sample of the three specialty liqueurs (yellow, red, and green) that the monks make from a variety of herbs. And unfortunately, while you can order them online, they only ship in France.

During the next day, I hoped to visit Ile Sainte-Marguerite, the larger sibling of Saint-Honorat, but the rains moved back in and I decided to not risk travelling to the island only to have it pour the entire time. Instead I walked along the shore, visiting the port and walking up to the Palm Beach casino, from where I could see the city of Antibes as well as having a reasonable view of Fort Royal on Sainte-Marguerite -- supposedly where the Man in the Iron Mask served his time.

Unfortunately, the rains came back in force in the early afternoon, so I walked along Rue d'Antibes (the upscale shopping district) back towards my hotel where I vegged out for a bit watching French daytime TV, which includes classics such as the low-budget French ripoff of Wheel of Fortune, numerous slightly higher quality game shows, a collection of what appeared to be 70's soaps dubbed into French, and an Italian channel.

That evening, the rains cleared up. Since it was my last evening in Cannes, I decided I would put my wet shoes back on and explore the city after dark. I wandered down to the Palais Des Festivals, where the red carpet always appears to be rolled out -- even if they have to cover it in plastic to keep it dry. The rotating Cannes advertising signs and public toilets are lit up in blue light, which sometimes interacts in strange ways with the surrounding palm trees, giving them a strange accented look.

Walking back up to the Church of Notre Dame, it turned out to be well illuminated, including more accents of blue. The view overlooking downtown and the port was also quite nice at night. And at nine at night, I was surprised that I wasn't the only camera-toting tourist up at the church. I guess everyone had the same idea that I did: "let's get out and see Cannes now in case the rains come back!"

The next day I stopped by the patisserie for breakfast, packed up my stuff, and walked to the bus station to catch a bus back to Nice for my last day in France. Because of my early morning (6:15 am) flight the following morning, I decided it would be wise to stay at the hotel we used during our committee meeting, since I could literally walk to the airport.... Despite the cost nearly 3 times that of my Cannes hotel.

After arriving and checking in around noon, I decided that it would be wise to again walk the 5 kilometers into Nice. This time instead of keeping me awake, I hoped the exercise would tire me out so I could fall asleep early. Furthemore, since the rain and clouds cleared out, it was another beautiful day.

My first stop was the Nice Musee des Beaux-Arts, housed in a palace built for a former Ukranian princess, which was much more impressive than the Menton fine arts museum (both artistically and architecturally). After spending a few hours inside pondering the paintings and walking the rest of the way down the Promenade, I had just enough time to grab a sandwich and hike up the the Parc du Chateau to catch the sunset.

After watching the sun set, taking photos, dodging kids and their toys, and enjoying the beautiful 70 degree weather up at the park, I reluctantly started wandering back to the hotel. The excercise allowed me to fall asleep relatively early, and wake up on time to walk over to the airport, where I caught a (thankfully) uneventful trip back to Iowa.... Where work was waiting and the weather was not nearly so nice.