Today was Formula 1 qualifying. I wouldn’t have minded going, but with the cost of the tickets, Charles and I had already determined that “not minding going” wasn’t a strong enough motivation for parting with the money for a ticket for me. Therefore, Charles went to qualifying in Monaco and left me to sight see as I pleased.

This morning I did something that I had not done so far on this trip. I sat in my pajamas and drank a cup of coffee, rather than hurriedly drinking it while getting ready to leave. I got so into the sitting and the coffee drinking that it was nearly noon when I left our apartment.

Today I tried to be more European in my attitude toward sight seeing. Charles and I usually are very purposeful – more of a march than a stroll, really. We get there, see it, and move on to the next destination. Europeans, from what I’ve read, tend to go slower to take it all in. Getting there is half the fun – or so we hear they say. We wouldn’t actually know what they say as we’ve usually already huffed on past them to get there first.

Today I did a walking tour that was recommended in our travel guide (which I could have had autographed by Rick Steves had I been more adept at stalking). Most of the things I had already seen in our travels throughout Nice, but had not taken the time to really look at them. I tried to take my time as I walked, which proved to be difficult for me, as I had to concentrate to keep myself from speeding up and then would forget to look around. I guess it takes some practice…

I took the tram to Jean Medecin, a shopping area that used to be a main street but that Nice closed to traffic (other than the tram) within the last 10 years. From Jean Medecin, I walked through Place Massena, a large plaza that used to be the site of casino that the locals hated until they finally tore it down in the 1980’s and the river that ran through Nice to the sea. Now the river runs underground with the plaza built on top of it.

From the Place Massena, I passed into Old Town Nice (Vieux Nice – where our apartment is located) and checked out the Opera House and then passed back through the market, enjoying the smell of the fresh flowers, spices, and socca. This time, I sneaked up some stairs (Rick Steves said it was ok) to a rooftop get an aerial view of the market and of the palace on the far side of Place Gautier.

After climbing back over the furniture that was blocking the stairway which was not marked as being a public stairway in any way, shape, or form (I swear Rick Steves said it was ok), I walked the rest of the way through the market, buying a hat on the way out. These hats are everywhere in the French Riviera. I’m sure the only people wearing them are tourists and, if the camera around my neck and my lost-looking where’s-the-sortie-in-this-dang-place demeanor wasn’t a dead give-away, this hat probably screams “please target me for pick pocketing”. Either way, it will make a great keepsake from the Riviera (if I can get it home in one piece) and will keep my part from getting sunburned.

I weaved my way back through Vieux Nice, stepping into an old mansion-turned-museum for a quick not-entirely-sanctioned picture of the lobby before ending at Place Rosetti, the location for the Cathedral of St. Reparate, named after the patron saint of Nice. Since I was wearing shorts, I opted not to go in and sit down (which I usually like to do for a few minutes in each cathedral or chapel we visit) since I know many of the churches frown on visitors in shorts. I was able to get a glimpse of the interior from the doorway, however, which was even more beautiful than the other church (Eglise St Jacques) in Vieux Nice that Charles and I stumbled upon the other night as I stalked Rick Steves.

After completing my walking tour, I decided to climb the stairs up to the top of Castle Hill – which no longer houses a castle but does offer a pretty fantastic view of Nice and the sea. It was quite a climb to the top, but there was cold beer and a snack waiting for me when I got there. The breeze was almost as cool as the beer and the view was outstanding. In my new-found European vacation mindset, I sat on a bench at the top of the hill for a good 30-45 minutes, enjoying the breeze and the view, fidgeting, and wondering how long a European would sit there before moving on. Eventually due to the aforementioned beer consumption I found myself in need of les toilettes, so headed back down the hill. I will go back with Charles at some point in the next week at sunrise or sunset to get more pictures when the light is better.

Though less physical effort was required, going down the stairs was also a bit of a challenge. There are several routes up the mountain, all converging (of course) at the top. You can take any of these routes down the mountain – and they will deposit you at various points around the foot of the mountain. If you take the wrong route, you end up on the wrong side of the mountain – leaving no choice but to climb back up or walk around the foot of it. The problem is that the routes tend to cross-cross each other as they switchback down the mountain, so even if you’ve chosen the right route to begin with, you can easily find yourself on the wrong one – as I did this afternoon – finding myself in the port rather than Vieux Nice. Luckily, the walk around the foot of Castle Hill (in the direction I chose) follows the waterfront and was a pretty walk back.

Once back in the apartment, I took the opportunity to do some laundry, take a rest, and start today’s blog post while listening to the Saturday evening hymns from the chapel across the street through the open apartment window. When Charles got back, we went out to find dinner in Vieux Nice. We found a place serving moules (mussels), similar to what I had in Paris (steamed in white wine, cream, & garlic). After our nightly gelato stop (grapefruit and salted caramel for me), we are both tired and calling it a night. http://s0kud0.smugmug.com/Travel/Monaco-Trip-2015/i-x8bnrHb/0/M/MonacoTrip-04056-M.jpg