I spent my second day in Nice wandering around the city itself.
In a shameless attempt to boost my blog's popularity, I gave you, my curious readers, a stunning bikini babe on the beach of the beautiful Côte d'Azur. I apologize to the girl in the picture for not asking for her permission but as a photographer, I just had to take it. Sorry for the pun, though. You'll see this pun again and again until you get tired of it.
The Chinese name for "Côte d'Azur" is “蔚蓝海岸”, literally "Bright Blue Coast". And indeed, blue is *the* color of Nice.
Note that the beaches in Nice were made of stones, not sands. So they weren't as comfortable as the sand ones, I was told.
The Promenade des Anglais was a great jogging place in the dawn or the dust.
I walked along the coast to the east. The Mediterranean sea was on my right and on my left, buildings of the City of Nice, like the Opera House.
Then I strayed a little into the city for food and reached a signature place, Palais de Justice.
It was an open space surrounded by beautiful buildings with well-dressed lawyers talking on the phone, weary people sitting on the stairs waiting, maybe, a trial and of course, aggressive doves looking for any food you dropped on the ground.
I wondered around more, taking pictures without knowing what they were.
At the heart of the Old Town was the Farmer's Market, always a great place to be. You know, to interact with locals, in your awkward French.
I was impressed by how old Nice was because when I first arrived, I thought it was just a shallow, blunt beach town like the ones I saw in the United States.
And you couldn't believe how many churches they had in such a small area. Proof of the religious zeal in the Middle Ages.
At the end of the market, there was this Roman style gate.
Walking further east, I reached a perfect spot for an overview of the beautiful French Riveria. Click here for the big version of this panoramic.
As always, I had my picture taken in the place I liked very much.
Looking out from the harbor, you would see the lighthouse.
The official name of the harbor was "Eglise Notre Dame du Port".
And this was its namesake: the Notre Dame in the middle of the harbor.
I was amazed by the colorful buildings on the street.
After that, I started to walk back via a different route, wandering through the back streets, where daily lives of the people of Nice took place.
The back streets of the Old Nice were very intimate.
As I mentioned before, there were a number of churches in this small town. Most of them dated back to the Middle Ages. This statue of Jesus Christ pointing upward, found on one of the churches, was mysteriously intriguing.
Another great statue of a saint reaching downward to the observers, while carrying a dove on his head. (Just kidding.)
The last statue was found outside of the Cathedral dedicated to Sainte Reparate, the patron saint of the City of Nice.
As I wandered more, I saw more interesting buildings which I couldn't name. And people who were living with them.
I could only say this was a government building, probably the Mayor's office. But it was pink!
The Place Masséna was an open area at the west end of the Old Nice, connecting the new and the old.
The fountain in the middle of the Place gave life to the whole thing.
What I had visited was only a small, touristy part of the town. Half of it was built on the mountains behind the beaches, as you could see in the far end of this picture.
But I had no time to visit them all: I had already got the train ticket to my next destination. On the way back to my hostel, the statue of the (modern) City of Nice.
How could you leave Nice without having a picture of the ubiquitous palm trees?
This was a lovely scene beyond words.
Before I left, I took a picture of what I saw outside of the hostel I stayed: Hotel Meyerbeer Beach. Out of curiosity, I bought a small bottle of rosé, the pink-colored wine, from a supermarket. And I underestimated the ability of alcohol consumption of the French people: I had the bottle before I walked to the train station only found myself wiggling along the way. I was lucky to be sober enough to get on the *right* train.
I left Nice by train in the afternoon so the Gare Nice-Ville was the last thing I saw. Still drunk, I said goodbye to Nice, and to France, the amazing country. Next stop, Milano, Italia!
In a shameless attempt to boost my blog's popularity, I gave you, my curious readers, a stunning bikini babe on the beach of the beautiful Côte d'Azur. I apologize to the girl in the picture for not asking for her permission but as a photographer, I just had to take it. Sorry for the pun, though. You'll see this pun again and again until you get tired of it.
The Chinese name for "Côte d'Azur" is “蔚蓝海岸”, literally "Bright Blue Coast". And indeed, blue is *the* color of Nice.
Note that the beaches in Nice were made of stones, not sands. So they weren't as comfortable as the sand ones, I was told.
The Promenade des Anglais was a great jogging place in the dawn or the dust.
I walked along the coast to the east. The Mediterranean sea was on my right and on my left, buildings of the City of Nice, like the Opera House.
Then I strayed a little into the city for food and reached a signature place, Palais de Justice.
It was an open space surrounded by beautiful buildings with well-dressed lawyers talking on the phone, weary people sitting on the stairs waiting, maybe, a trial and of course, aggressive doves looking for any food you dropped on the ground.
I wondered around more, taking pictures without knowing what they were.
At the heart of the Old Town was the Farmer's Market, always a great place to be. You know, to interact with locals, in your awkward French.
I was impressed by how old Nice was because when I first arrived, I thought it was just a shallow, blunt beach town like the ones I saw in the United States.
And you couldn't believe how many churches they had in such a small area. Proof of the religious zeal in the Middle Ages.
At the end of the market, there was this Roman style gate.
Walking further east, I reached a perfect spot for an overview of the beautiful French Riveria. Click here for the big version of this panoramic.
As always, I had my picture taken in the place I liked very much.
Looking out from the harbor, you would see the lighthouse.
The official name of the harbor was "Eglise Notre Dame du Port".
And this was its namesake: the Notre Dame in the middle of the harbor.
I was amazed by the colorful buildings on the street.
After that, I started to walk back via a different route, wandering through the back streets, where daily lives of the people of Nice took place.
The back streets of the Old Nice were very intimate.
As I mentioned before, there were a number of churches in this small town. Most of them dated back to the Middle Ages. This statue of Jesus Christ pointing upward, found on one of the churches, was mysteriously intriguing.
Another great statue of a saint reaching downward to the observers, while carrying a dove on his head. (Just kidding.)
The last statue was found outside of the Cathedral dedicated to Sainte Reparate, the patron saint of the City of Nice.
As I wandered more, I saw more interesting buildings which I couldn't name. And people who were living with them.
I could only say this was a government building, probably the Mayor's office. But it was pink!
The Place Masséna was an open area at the west end of the Old Nice, connecting the new and the old.
The fountain in the middle of the Place gave life to the whole thing.
What I had visited was only a small, touristy part of the town. Half of it was built on the mountains behind the beaches, as you could see in the far end of this picture.
But I had no time to visit them all: I had already got the train ticket to my next destination. On the way back to my hostel, the statue of the (modern) City of Nice.
How could you leave Nice without having a picture of the ubiquitous palm trees?
This was a lovely scene beyond words.
Before I left, I took a picture of what I saw outside of the hostel I stayed: Hotel Meyerbeer Beach. Out of curiosity, I bought a small bottle of rosé, the pink-colored wine, from a supermarket. And I underestimated the ability of alcohol consumption of the French people: I had the bottle before I walked to the train station only found myself wiggling along the way. I was lucky to be sober enough to get on the *right* train.
I left Nice by train in the afternoon so the Gare Nice-Ville was the last thing I saw. Still drunk, I said goodbye to Nice, and to France, the amazing country. Next stop, Milano, Italia!
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