Nice Not Nice

Jeep Girl here...

I've long wanted to visit France, but Paris was the only idea that was in my head. Well, that my friends is no longer true. France is romantic all on its own without the iconic Eiffel Tower. After boarding a smaller boat to transport us to the port, we took a 20-minute ride over crystal blue waters surrounded by towering mountains and colorful buildings built in layers up and around the rocky terrain. Pink, blue, green, and yellow dwellings with bright pops of purple flowers accented the palette. Everything was in color! Italy felt full of life and color, or so I thought. Arriving on the French coast felt like I had been watching television in black and white all my life and technicolor had just arrived on the scene. It was awe inspiring!

We arrived in a small village called Villefranche, which is incredibly fun to say with a French accent. Try it. You instantly feel cool. This adorable village was absolutely filled with quaint shops, winding stone steps, climbing vines and picturesque overlooks of the sea. It reminded me of the provincial town that Belle from Beauty and the Beast lives in. In fact, if you picture that right now in your imagination, you've just about go it right.

Unfortunately, Villefranche was not our final destination. We were venturing on to Nice, which was very confusing for the Americans. I was so surprised at how many people we were traveling with who would pronounce it "Nice" as in "It's nice to see you." When you ask a local how to get to Nice pronounced that way, they look at you like you're crazy. Nice pronounced like the bendy part of your leg, is correct and will much more likely get you directions from a local rather than an annoyed blank stare.

Off we went to catch the 7 min train ride to Nice. I won't go through all of the confusion of getting a ticket and getting on the train because it is just far too complicated and boring, but let's just say, the French do not make it easy on tourists. You immediately feel as if they don't want you to be there. They don't want to help you get to where you're going, they will watch as you wander confused, all while sipping their cafe ole. They won't be laughing at you, they will be ignoring you. They are not amused, they are annoyed. Every interaction with a Frenchman proved this to be more and more true. It was a bit shocking after being in the very friendly Italian towns.

After nearly 2 hours, we finally arrived in Nice. The train station was made of beautifully wrought iron posts with a grand glass ceiling. You felt like you were in a giant greenhouse that grew trains instead of plants. We were starving at this point, so cafe ole and chocolate croissants became our first priority. In Italy, most everyone spoke at least a little English, so getting around and ordering wasn't difficult at all. In France, it seems they do know how to speak English, they just refuse to do it. Ordering took some creative hand gestures. How exactly do you communicate chocolate with only the use of your hands? You find a nearby sign that says it and bring it the cash register with you of course. The cafe ole and croissant were well worth the wait. Penny had hot chocolate. I told her it tasted like what I imagine hot cocoa tastes like in the North Pole at Santa's workshop. It was magical.

Nice is a much larger city than I expected. Parts of it felt like Nashville to me, in relation to size. The architecture was impressive. When I thought of France, I thought of tall windows, arched doorways, and wrought iron balconies, but I thought that would be the ritzy side of town. Well, it's not. It's like that EVERYWHERE! Every building is a work of art. Everyone has a balcony fit for a scene from one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I thought to myself, "Every girl must feel like Juliet, here." Yes, yes I know Shakespear was English. Nevertheless, they were sonnet worthy structures.

We eventually found our way to a bustling French flea market. Jewelry, gilded picture frames, fresh flowers, provincial furniture, and some very interesting fashion design, filled every inch of the public square. I could have spent hours there and was sad that I didn't have space in my suitcase for the musical instrument I found. I thought it would be so cool for the studio back in Nashville. I'm not even quite sure how to explain it. It involved both a drum and strings and a tusk from some kind of animal. I definitely wasn't French, but still very cool.

We sat in a cafe, and when I say that, know that I mean an outdoor one. The streets are lined with outdoor cafes. There is hardly any indoor seating and when there is, it is rarely air-conditioned, so you want to sit outside in the breeze. The air smells like perfume, and you realize why French perfume is so strong. People are sweating all day and all night. Even with a daily shower, you still smell. And you are constantly in close proximity to other sweaty humans. I've never thought French perfume smelled very good, but here it smells wonderful! You are so grateful to be smelling something else other than B.O.

We found a cafe bordering the market, and I ordered a Nicoise Salad, which is famous in the region. I have Nicoise salad several times in the US. It's one of my favorites. It usually involves; canned tuna fish, boiled egg, steamed string beans, olives and thin slices of boiled potato. Here, every restaurant has their own take on it. I'm sad to say, I  wasn't impressed with this one. I regretted not ordering the steaming bowl of mussels and frittes (french fries) at the table next to me.

Penny and I realized suddenly that our time was getting short. We needed to find a taxi back to the train station, walk back to the port, and board the transport to get back on the ship in time. You see, they don't wait for you. If you get lost and are late, they boat leaves anyway, and it's your job to catch them at the next port. Our next port was Ibiza, Spain and would take us all night and a pretty penny in travel to catch up, so that was not a good option. We actually called an for an Uber. Finally, something we understood! We got to the train station minutes before we were to board, and then noticed that the train was delayed. We spoke to a porter and found out that we would not arrive back to Villefranche in time to get on the ship! Penny and I are both planners, so we had left our lunch in an effort to be at the port an hour before the last transport. We thought we were being responsible and cautious and we still found ourselves in this place. Not a happy moment for us. We don't like it when our plans don't work out. Ha!

We went into problem-solving mode, which we are also very good at because we both work for people that seem to get themselves into these kinds of situations often. I have to admit at that moment I was thankful for the training. Instead of going into a panic which would be my personality, I took a deep breath and said,  "Okay, you call an Uber, I'll look for a taxi. We'll go with whatever comes first." Penny, as usual, won the race and we got into an Uber, with a driver who did not speak English, which is why we ended up right on time to the wrong port!

This port was for local fishing boats and we couldn't even see our boat from where we were. We quickly started gesturing with our hands and saying "Big Boat!"He whipped the car around and went through such a narrow street that it didn't look like we would make it through. He pushed a button and the side view mirrors folded inward, and he slowly inched his way back up the mountain. It was tense, to say the least. I just kept picturing us getting stuck there between the rock walls, unable to get out of the car while our boat sailed away.

Finally, we arrived at the correct port and saw a line of hundreds of people waiting to board the transport. We hadn't missed it!! We sighed with relief and as we got out of the car, it started to rain. Not a little romantic "kiss me in the rain, darling" kind of way. In a torrential, "is this a hurricane?" kind of way. It was cold rain too! I had on a backless shirt and shorts and I started wondering if I could somehow freeze to death in the rain in France on an 80-degree day. Ladies were screaming and children were crying. Everyone was hugging the wall of the building, but the wind was so strong it didn't matter. We were all getting drenched anyway. It was like someone was standing there with a firehose washing all of the French perfume off of us.

Then some of the crew from the cruise line rushed us inside the building. Turns out there were approximately 900 of us. The cruise ship only held 2500, so we were nearly half of the cruise population. Our transport boats held about 200 people. Over half of that was accommodated by an open deck, which is how I had arrived. Meaning, only about 75 people could be taken at a time and because the lightning was so fierce they wouldn't let us walk out of the building to board the boat (which was rocking quite violently) until the lightning stopped. As we waited in the space that was meant for only 300 people, they started to push us back from the doors, because water was starting to come in under them, and now we were all standing in about an inch of water. Now, THIS was an adventure! Haha

The mood was mostly jovial, and the cruise staff did an exceptional job of keeping us informed. Slowly, but surely over the next few hours, we were transported in very rocky seas back to the ship. I felt for the staff who was absolutely drenched and shivering. When we arrived back to the boat, they had warm beach towels and fruit infused water waiting for us. They made dinner arrangements for those who had missed their dinner seating and were all very kind an apologetic as if they could control the weather. I was impressed, and just have to say as a note; I've been on three cruises on three different cruise lines and Celebrity has by far been the best. I highly recommend them if you are considering going.

The next couple of days we cruised through Spain. First Ibiza, which is known for its rave late night parties and drugs. The second was Palma de Mallorca. Penny and I did not disembark for either port. I know that may seem strange but I kind of had this thing about wanting to set foot in Spain for the first time in Barcelona itself. I also didn't want to arrive at the mission trip exhausted. As fun as all the port exploration had been, it's not why I came. I was keeping my eye on the prize. I came to give in Barcelona and if I didn't take some time to rest, I would have nothing to give. I didn't know what was going to be needed in Barcelona yet, so I needed to reserve some energy. This is a discipline I have finally learned in my life. A few years ago,  I would have burned the candle at both ends until I was absolutely empty. I take better care of myself now. No one else is going to. I guess that's part of being an adult. It's not always fun, but it has never been regretful.

Later that day I heard from one of the church worship leaders, and he let me know that I would be helping to lead worship at all three services on Sunday. He sent me the song list and I didn't know any of them! So, I had two days to learn four new songs. I walked the length of the boat, sat in a chair overlooking the ocean watching the mountains pass us by and listened to the songs over and over again. It felt good to know what I would be doing on Sunday. As I listened, I dreamt of Barcelona and what it held for me. So many questions. So much mystery. I was ready to know, and tomorrow I would.


XOXO

Jeepgirl