An Evening in Nice
Readers, Nice was nice.
I didn’t pay for a beach chair even though i wouldn’t have minded drink service because 1) i enjoy laying on the rocks and 2) it seemed wrong to charge 14 Euro for your own little space of the beach. The whole idea seems slightly more American than French…
It seems like Nice is one of those places where it doesn’t matter how many vacationers, tourists, or annoying people there are, it just spits out charm (sometimes mildly dilapidated) everywhere you go.
I don’t think even the most hardcore dieters could resist this, could you? I wasn’t dieting, thank goodness, because otherwise I could have only gotten TWO scoops instead of my daily three:
Salted Butter Caramel, Glazed Chestnut, and Jasmine. This is kind of a morbid question, but do you think that if you were on death row and requested this to be your last meal, they would somehow procure it for you?
Oh, the scent!
Dinner was a goat cheese and eggplant millefeuille that was divine. What was not divine was spilling rose all over my white blouse and silk skirt. How classy!
The evening ended here, half-watching the partial moon, half-watching the light it shone.
