A Dream on the French Riviera: Nice, Cap d'Antibes, Vence, St. Paul, Ventimiglia, & Monaco

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On our flight back to Edinburgh from Athens (to make our flight 6 hours later to Nice) we had a most interesting encounter… with a man from a distant land. A land unknown to any of us. From the time of the Neanderthals. Sitting across from us was a man/boy/thing who spoke no recognizable language, except ‘Beer,’ which he kept ordering from the oblivious stewardess. The Neanderthal was screaming odd sounds throughout the flight and passing out on the poor old lady next to him. We held our breaths as he magically went through passport control…. with his mysterious nationality. As he walked out of the baggage claim area, the security guards descended. They couldn’t figure out which language to try on him. When we got back to the airport to fly to Nice, he was nowhere to be found. The Neanderthal is roaming the streets of Edinburgh.

Anyway….
We arrived in Nice the following afternoon and were picked up by my godparents. They dropped us off at a beautiful studio apartment on the quai de dockes, the street that circulates the port of Nice. The first thing we did was make fresh nicoise salad. I even ate the anchovies. The week before I had just finished a book called Strapless about John Singer Sargent’s Madame X and the scandal that followed the exhibition of her portrait. (Its like a trashy romance novel for art historians). As we sat on the balcony overlooking the port, I was suddenly transported to the riveting art scene of the 1880s. The rows of pink and yellow apartments with turqoise shutters, the yachts all perfectly lined up, the beautiful men and women dressed in linens and sunhats... it was a living painting.

The next day we strolled along the Promenade d’Anglais, as the artists and muses of my 19th century fantasies did. Looking out over the blue water was mesmerizing. People were roller-skating and bicycling all around. We climbed the chateau (only the French would name a mountain a chateau) and waked to the Matisse Museum up the cimiez. It was en extraordinary collection. I was in heaven. Matisse paintings, sketches, sculptures, lithographs everywhere. We walked through the cours seleya for the remainder of the day while eating Gelato and searching for the fresh fruit and vegetables market.

Before I go any further I must introduce Claudine. My godparents swear by her and do nothing without her. She is a French woman to the highest degree of French women. Knows everything about everything and will tell you so. Best bargains. Best fish. Best men. Best vegetables. Best vintage stores. Best chocolate. Best perfume. Very strange/impressive/hilarious. She would say things like, “Don’t go to Morocco. If you want to see Arabs, go to the train station.” Gasp. We had enough Claudine for that day. We went to the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art and I escaped her cynicism as Yves Klein, Niki de Saint Phalle, Antony Gormley, and Anish Kapoor surrounded me everywhere I went. Not having done nearly enough art for the day, we drove to Antibes to see the Picasso Museum, which is located in an old castle. As you look out over the balcony, Picasso sculptures dance along the cliffside...

We met Claudine for breakfast and she advised us on a trip to Italy for the day. We drove along the Riviera coastline and I dreamily stared out the window, imagining I was driving in the backseat of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant’s convertible in To Catch a Thief. We crossed the border into Italy and spent the day in Ventimiglia, the home of the most famous flea market. We walked the rows of vendors for hours, surrounded by the smells of leather, prosciutto, parmigiano, and fake Louis Vuitton. The best part of the day was the fresh fruit and vegetable section, which was a haven of mesmerizing colours… apples, oranges, lemons, cauliflower, artichokes, aubergines. We cooked a beautiful dinner with all teh fresh produce of the day.

The next day we, as usual, met Claudine for our morning coffee and croissant and got the advice we needed for a trip to Vence, the famous town where Matisse, Picasso, Renoir, Chagall and everyone else who is wonderful went to paint. We explored the intimate and charming collections of art and stopped in every provencal shop to see the rows of tablecloths, napkins, stationary, candles, and herbs. We drove to St. Paul on the way back to Nice, a historic city enclosed by a beautiful dilapidated wall and famous for its cobbled streets and winding roads lined with wisteria. I bought a bottle of perfume.

We decided to skip Claudine the next morning and go on our own adventures. We spent the day on the beach on the Bay of Angels. Tace worked on her watercolours and I started reading Life with Picasso by Francoise Gilot, the woman closest to the enigmatic artist. The whole book takes place in Antibes, Vence, and Nice. I read about their lives while living it. Another art historians romance novel. The day was made interesting when a man stripped to nothing in front of us after swimming in the water. Gotta love Nice. It started to drizzle, so we strolled into the cours seleya and sat for a few hours while sipping wine and eating olives. Not having had enough adventure that day, we decided to try to break onto a 60-foot yacht in the port, but were stopped by a Bulgarian crewmember, who came out after seeing us on his camera. Yachts have surveillance cameras? Guess we won’t try that one again…

The next morning we drove along my favourite coastline to Monaco… the strangest place I have ever been to. There are no Atm machines. Men in suits strutt on the streets and old ladies twirl their pearls with their long fingers in their Chanel suits. Its like a movie set. We walked to the Palais in hopes of finding Prince Albert and proposing marriage. No luck. But we did get into the Palais and walked through all the extravagant rooms. The walls are upholstered in silk brocade with matching furniture and bedspreads. Its magical. We went to the Oceanography Museum, founded by Albert I, where I forgot I was a 21 year old woman and took pictures of every single fish, octopus, starfish, and seahorse. My old friend Alex, a photographer, and his friend Joe, an art dealer, met us at a café outside the Palais. Joe drove in his convertible along the winding roads of cap d’ail to see an exhibition he curated at his Hotel. We then went to Monte Carlo to have drinks at the Hotel Paris and gamble at the casino. … I’m telling you… it was the early 1900s... all you need is a lace umbrella and a few strands of pearls....

Amanda