I know I'm so far behind on blogs...basically 90% of summer...but I'm going to do a simplified summary of the on-goings of my visit from the legendary Dawn Vernizzi.
Back in the days of May, my mom came for a visit! We spent
her first day perusing Bergen and it’s few, rainy points of interest and then
we were off to Nice, France in search of some sun. It was not exactly hot when
we arrived but I had been in the cold for so long that I still had to acclimate
– my body didn’t remember how to handle heat anymore. Our first day in Nice was
spent walking around, putting our feet in the water (which is quite a feat on
Nice’s rocky beaches), and having an incredible Italian dinner at a
questionable-looking restaurant.
The next day, after a bit of hotel payment drama, we went
on a quest to find the correct car rental place, luggage in tow, overheating
like crazy. Once we finally made it there after one wrong stop, they said we
did not have a reservation, so that was cool…but it all worked out in the end
and we got a cute little Mercedes and we hit the road (or “frap la rue,” if
Sarah King is reading…). We spent our first mobile hour driving all around the
Nice and Cagnes area, just trying to find the dang highway to Castallane. I
finally convinced my (stubborn) mother that it was time to retrace our steps to
the airport in order to follow the proper directions we had – and then we were
good. I'm so wise.
Our first stop was in Grasse. Oh, Grasse, you
sweet-smelling son of a gun. We strolled the tiny walkways, ate a savory crepe
(my first crepe ever), visited the perfume museum, and unintentionally toured
the art history museum (which was a great mistake when all we originally wanted
was a toilet). From there, we drove off into the French mountains headed for
the Verdon Gorge.
Upon arrival in Castallane, I knew there was going to be a
problem…I adored it. It was a tiny old town, with a church perched up on top of
this giant, abrupt rock feature and with a crystal blue river flowing along the
edge. We followed the road along the river to our turn about 20 minutes outside
of the main town and we headed up a tiny one-lane dirt road up the
mountainside. My mom was fuh-reaking out the whole time, but since moving to Norway
I have driven my fair share of sketchy narrow roads so I was lovin’ it! After
perhaps 10 minutes of up, we arrived in the tiniest storybook village of about 30
people, Chasteuil. This place turned out to be a bigger problem than Castallane because I loved this place
even moreso…
All of the buildings were picturesque old stone abodes
with a killer view of the Verdon Gorge. Our B&B was owned and run by a
French man and his Californian wife and while we didn’t see much of her, Pascal
was the most incredible host. That night he prepared a private dinner for us on
the patio overlooking the gorge. We ate pistou (I think I concluded that means
pesto in French) soup made from local vegetables, bread with all sorts of fresh
cheeses and smears, and drank some local red wine. Ahh it was to die for! As if
it couldn’t get any better, there was an Irish music convention going on at the
B&B so after dinner, the handful of musicians gathered in the small open-air
living room/dining room/common room of the building and began to play. They
filled the valley with the sound of Irish fiddles and I was in heaven. And as
ifffff things couldn’t get better, the G4 hiking trail ran literally in front
of the hotel, so after dinner we took a bit of a sunset stroll along the G4,
with a belly full of great food, all whilst listening to live Irish music. Ugh
take me back…
The next morning started early with a group breakfast with
all of the other guests, most of which were the musicians. There was also a
group of four older folks visiting from Australia and they were quite an
entertaining, delightful bunch. Post-brekkie, my mommasan and I headed out for
a bit more G4 action, but in the opposite direction of our stroll the previous
night. First we passed the tiny spring that has supplied the village of
Chasteuil since it's beginning. We continued on, up the mountain, all the way to
a tiny, tiny one-room chapel built into the rocks on a random out-jutting peak.
The later half of our day was focused on exploring the
Verdon Gorge. When planning my mother’s European visit, she had mentioned the
desire to visit the French Riviera, whereas I have long wanted to see the
Verdon Gorge. The fact that we were able to do both during this trip was quite
fortunate. Pascal pointed us in the direction of the beginning of the really
gorge-y part of the gorge and we were off. At first sight, we were pretty blown
away…this was a dang impressive river gorge. Walls narrow as can be, water blue
as can be! We hiked along the river a bit, which led us up into long, unlit
tunnels carved through the canyon walls. We navigated around the giant puddles
using the light from our cells phones and ended up getting some pretty cool
views of the gorge. However, we decided to turn back as we reached a stretch of
tunnel with no end in sight…if I ever make it back (god I hope I do), I’ll be prepared
with better shoes and proper flashlight.
Along the way back to the car, we stopped to take some AO
pictures since we both matched. We are just too darn cute. Back at the car, we
ate the lunch Pascal had packed for us and it was nearly as life changing as
the gorge itself! A to-go “backpacker’s” lunch consisted of ham sandwiches on quality
baguettes, another baguette with brie, fresh apples, and chocolate cake. Pascal
is the food king!
The drive back to Chasteuil was broken up with many photo
stops and a break for a dip in the river. That water was so perfect and blue
and clear and looked so warm (but was actually super chilly) that it would have
been blasphemy to not give a swim a shot. It may have been too cold to entirely
submerge but I splashed around a bit nonetheless. Back at the B&B, we
lounged on the patio as I finished reading The Alchemist (Thanks to Kara!) and
had a classy (or classless?) dinner of croissants and pizza from a local Castallane
bakery. Then we wasted away the evening with a sunset walk while listening to
Irish fiddles and crickets again. To top off the evening, we sat around on the
patio watching the stars come out and smelling the sweetest air in existence
(there’s a reason France is known for making perfume). And the next morning,
against our will, we departed back for Nice. Not that Nice is bad, but
Chasteuil is a dream.
En route back to Nice, we made a stop in Saint Paul de
Vence to check out the sights along with hoards of other tourists, then
continued on to our final destination – Hotel Negresco along the Promenade des
Anglais. (Side note: still entirely impressed that we navigated France without any
major issues)
When checking into Hotel Negresco, I felt like a female
version of Jack in Titanic. That place is gorgeous. And old, sophisticated,
located along a famously beautiful coastline, full of expensive and historic
art…and rich people. Just full of rich people. I stuck out like a sore thumb,
for sure! I casually walked in wearing dirty sandals and carrying a traveling
backpack. I am pretty sure the bellboy had never handled a backpack on the job,
seeing as he had quite a hard time carrying it when he delivered it to our
room. I told him it took practice and loads of muscles (obviously).
Our first night there involved perusing Old Town Nice and
later loads of lightning and rain joined in on the party. Not quite the weather
I was pursuing by vacationing away from Norway. The next morning, we continued
our splurge-fest (staying at the Negresco was a huge splurge to begin with) by
going on a small, fancy tour of the surrounding cities and Monaco. We started with
a stop at a killer viewpoint of the French Riviera and then moved onto Eze. That
place was just delightful. Perfect, tiny, old, walled town perched on a hill
followed by a visit to Fragonard Parfumeur. And there, I fell in love (very
common trend I have towards everyone, every place, and everything I come across
in my travels). As many people know, I’m a TOTAL sucker for perfumes (and
sunsets…a possible combination of the two would just be overwhelming for me).
We came away with quite a few purchases, which I continue to adore and continue
to use on the daily. If anyone is heading Franceward anytime ever, please pick
some Fragonard up for me. I’d love you (even more). I really like perfume,
yadda yadda, ok moving on.
We then drove past La Turbie, too quickly in my opinion
because I wanted a picture of the ruins from YEAR SEVEN B.C.E.! We couldn’t
stop because we were in hot pursuit of Monaco. The day we were there was just
the day after the classic car race and just the day before the famous Formula1
race so driving through the town meant actually driving along the race track.
Being in Monaco with the guards set up along the roads, it felt like we were
navigating through a video game. We arrived at the royal palace just in
time to watch the uneventful changing of the guard before heading over to Monte
Carlo. Unfortunately, we were unable to go inside seeing as we arrived just
about one hour before it opened, but the walk around the grounds was nice
enough for me. The cars kept us pretty distracted, as well, and I’m assuming
there weren’t many of those to look at inside the building. Also, we saw this
wicked cool half-boat-half-submarine creation…as weirdly interesting as it was,
I couldn’t help but think of how many people could benefit from the amount of
money someone spent to build that watercraft. Imagine if that person had a
simple giant yacht and donated the rest of the millions that went into that
hybrid. It’s a shame.
Monaco was pretty neat and all but I didn’t fancy it much.
It was a bit too flashy for my liking. And so we made it back to Nice by midday
for a late lunch on the beach. Unfortunately, the weather was still chilly as heck
but we made the best of it as we strolled the Promenade des Anglais. For
dinner, I introduced my mother to the world of European kebabs (and lamb in
general) and it was magical. We ate along the Promenade and she spent the
evening pressuring me to get a boyfriend and give her grandchildren, like,
ASAP. Yeah, we’ll see about that. So much to do, so much to see…
Our last full day in France began with another visit to
Old Town in attempt to get our paws on some famous socca made by a specific
lady named Terese. Well, she turned out to be the slowest, rudest person ever
so we said, “NEVERMIND RUDE TERESE,” and took our monies elsewhere. She may
have crazy good reviews online and in travel books but it just wasn’t worth it.
Sooo we walked through the farmers’ market, bought loads of delicious things,
and then headed up Castle Hill for some impressive views. Pretty good hill!
Snapped a few pictures then we went down to our beach to soak up some rays for
the first time all trip. Unfortunately, I acquired no tan (or fortunately, in my
skin’s opinion).
Our last night in Nice consisted of Dinner at La Cambuse back in Old Town. I kept it touristy by having French onion soup and the world’s most heavenly crème brulee. The night came to an end with one last walk along the Promenade, during which we FINALLY witnessed the fancy lamps along the walkway light up, which when lit is referred to as the Queen’s Necklace. I guess it looks like pearls when seen from above. My mother was elated! She had been hoping to witness this during out entire time in Nice. I was just ok with the fact that the path was well-lit. Sooo then we went back to our room, packed our things, and slept a few hours before our painfully early flight back to Norway in the morning.
Our last night in Nice consisted of Dinner at La Cambuse back in Old Town. I kept it touristy by having French onion soup and the world’s most heavenly crème brulee. The night came to an end with one last walk along the Promenade, during which we FINALLY witnessed the fancy lamps along the walkway light up, which when lit is referred to as the Queen’s Necklace. I guess it looks like pearls when seen from above. My mother was elated! She had been hoping to witness this during out entire time in Nice. I was just ok with the fact that the path was well-lit. Sooo then we went back to our room, packed our things, and slept a few hours before our painfully early flight back to Norway in the morning.
France was simply spectacular. I would be delighted to
find myself there again someday, particularly in Chasteuil.
