Flashbacks of France

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.

France was simply spectacular. I would be delighted to find myself there again someday, particularly in Chasteuil.

So our visit to France had come to an end, but my mom’s visit was not yet over…this is to be continued.