"Un chocolat chaud, s'il vous plait!"
Sunday, February 22nd
I had drooped along in a cloud of French angst for a few weeks: missing my friends, missing Burlington, missing my life back in the states, wondering why I wasn’t assimilating as quickly as I thought I would. I decided to try to start over.
We had just had a seminar on the imagination that I thought went quite well. Our class had really clicked and trusted each other in the discussion, and spirits were high.
We started filing out of the studio to start the thirty minute trek back into town. I found Tucker in the line and walked back a ways with her. She mentionned something about her host mom would be driving out to visit a friend in Nice… something about her cousins… there’s skiing not far from there… wanna come? I’d been looking for a weekend out of Aix and agreed to come along. Who turns down a free trip to go skiing in the Alps?
Driving out from Aix- Mount Sainte Victoire
The next Friday, we set off at six in her little red car. The sun was setting behind us and it felt good to be in a car driving toward a weekend. Her host mom was a crazy driver. She drove so fast. I couldn’t tell how fast because the speedometer was metric. We flew past Cannes and found our way into the center of Nice.
The car died as we reached the apex of this hill and I was sure we were going to die as we zoomed down it. At the bottom of the hill we found a gas station and came to an abrupt stop right in front of the gas tanks. The gas attendant let us keep the car there all night.
For some reason I assumed her host mom’s friend would be a woman. I was surprised to find a tall French man step out of the car. It was her cousin, René. When he introduced himself he asked if I spoke French, I said “No”. Tucker corrected me and said, “She does speak French, she’s just tired.” I thanked her.
René lives on the top two floors of this amazing apartment looking over Nice. He has a 360 degree view of Nice and you can see the Mediterranean in the distance from his living room. It was so nice. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t mind feeding and housing two American students for the weekend. At the dinner table I was a bit nervous, trying to be as polite as possible but he made us feel welcome. He told us all about his life and stories of Tucker’s host mom when she was little. Turns out he’s an international pharmaceutical conference planner and opera singer. He’s half French, half Sicilian. It all made sense. He’s obviously really in the mafia.
The next morning we caught a bus to Isola, two hours north of Nice. The way up was a bit treacherous on such a large bus and little winding mountain roads. We finally made it there in one piece. The view was incredible. It looked like a movie backdrop had been put up it was so unreal.
I thought any minute now, Arnold Swarzenagger was going to fly out of woods and expose the movie set-up. We rented some skis and if it hadn’t been for my all-consuming fear of instant death, skiing would have gone smoothly. This one slope had to be at least seventy-five degrees steep. I took off my skis and sled do
wn it on my butt. I thought I was going to die.
I stopped skiing after that slope and found a nice seat to soak ujp some sun and some hot chocolate. I’ll never forget how clear the air was up there. I wanted to bottle it and take it back with me.
After another treacherous ride back to Nice, we showered, eat dinner, and headed out for Carnivale. The floats and lights were spectacular.
La Grande Roule
After the show, René offered us a ride on the Ferris wheel. He got a kick out of how many photos I took (900 in total for the whole weekend). I couldn’t believe how hospitable he was. He really restored my faith in the French as a people. After we got off of the Ferris wheel Madame Lefay offered to get us cotton candy. I didn’t understand what she was asking and said sure, going along with whatever I thought everyone else wanted. Then I realized that she was getting cotton candy and no one else wanted any. I offered to pay knowing she has just lost her car and was struggling financially, but she wouldn’t let me. I was touched at her kind gesture but at the same time, I felt like she and René were treating us like children. I decided to embrace it because they were being so kind and I figured this is one of the last times I’ll be able to think of myself as a kid.
The next morning we walked around old Nice and got to see the markets, the seaside, the ports, and the view from the castle.
It was unforgettably beautiful. 
It was so sunny and the air was warm and comforting. We sat outside at this beautiful café, eat pizza with anchovies, olives, and capers, sipped rosé, and had coffee ice cream desserts with chantilly and whipped cream. René’s treat! I was in heaven. I pinched Tucker and we laughed about how unreal the weekend was.
I realized. I’m in a country that loves film, wine, art, and eating just as much, if not more than I do. It’s forty degrees warmer here than it is in Vermont. I’m painting almost everyday. How did my little life get so lucky?
You can see more photos of our adventure at:
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=34392613&l=6d2da&id=6912703
