As the sovereign crown prince of procrastination I herby proceed to fill in my loved ones on the remaining juicy bits of my Nice holiday, without much of that usual fuss about being the lazy butt. There is nothing much I could do about it all these years. Perhaps, it is an essential element in my chemical makeup, the additional element - Laziness (Lz).
As the husky golden sun rose over the glassy blue waters of the sea, we stirred in our snore ridden disturbed sleeps. All our meticulous plans of making it sharp on time to the station to take our train to Cannes were dashed. With boozy heavy sleep still strapping us down to our beds, we argued in muffled tones as to who is to have bath first. Well … eventually we did get up and get dressed in appropriate sunny holiday clothes. With a classy looking camera and a few of us with light backpacks and a silly smile over our faces we left home to take a bus to the station. With two other work colleagues of Bhakta joining us we boarded the train that sped towards Cannes.
We weren’t quite clear on what we expected to see in Cannes. I for one was hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. & Mrs. Pitt trotting the red carpet. Cheeky of me! But honestly we weren’t too concerned about ogling over celebrities. Like the cheerful crowd there, we just wanted to have our fair share of sea side fun.
Walking out of the station at Cannes, we filed into a nearby information centre to arm ourselves with maps and schedules for various events. After much careful speculation we came to the unanimous decision that we should spend a good hour aimlessly walking the narrow shaded streets, squeezed out on both side by little shops bursting with their wares. And so we did. Coolers in place and cameras clicking at every object that vaguely resembled anything of an art or antiquity, we walked the tourist strut. It really was a funny feeling. With every snap we clicked we felt that we were capturing a bit of the magic that the place had to offer, so that we could at some later date open up these pictures and conjure up that enchantment all over again. Perhaps this was the best decision we made during this trip, to roam the quaint city with no purpose in mind, with nothing to rush us, just taking in every piece of the wonder that the place is, at our own relaxed pace.
Covering a few historical places, we heeded to the calls of our belly-quakes. We went hunting for a traditional French eat out where we could sit at a large table on the side walk, under shades of a generous canopy of balconies and open windows with criss-crossing clothes lines above, watching expert violin and accordion playing beggars. (Well… that isn’t fair. I can’t call them beggars, though badly provided for; they were richly endowed with the beautiful art of music.) For once I am going to skip describing the food we had in detail. Been rebuked enough over it by my sis! The food was simply perfect. And that’s all am going to say about it.
Paying the lady who waited on us, we thanked her and made our way towards the sea shore. For some reason despite the heavy food we had, some of the guys were aching for a cup of coffee!!!
So we found a coffee shop just by the sands beneath a spares looking tree. As some of us sipped on hot cups of coffee under a blistering sun, the remaining sane members of our group, looking out into the tantalizing bright blue waters and the hoards of sun bathing vacationers, promised ourselves that we would hit the waters next. We then walked skirting the shore looking for the right patch of golden sands where we could set our belongings down and get dressed for the waters. Soon finding the right spot we got into the waters. It was blissful. Perfectly cool for the warm sun. For the first time, I managed to swim a couple of yards in the sea! Never thought I would ever be able to do that.
Once we had had enough fooling around we decided we should do justice for having come this far to get wet in salty water and sullied in dirty mud. We had to join the mad crowd in peering at the celebs as they drove past in sleek black sedans. So we quickly dried ourselves and got dressed and joint the gongoozling empty brained open jawed crazy crowd clicking frantically with their cams. There were many picture perfect people we stood staring at. A few we caught on stills too. Just so that we have a few snaps that were proof enough for us to tell people back at home that we were at the film festival.
We decided to head back home as the sun went down. Bhakta promised us that dinner would be better at the town square in Nice. The rest of the evening was a cheesy blur filled with nothing but a ludicrously super fattening quatre fromage pizza followed by a painfully long walk by the sea front to the apartment where we called it a day. The trip itself didn’t end with that. The next day though uneventful in terms of bloggable content, was perfectly relaxing and holidayish, as it should have been. We spent a great part of the day in doors, cooking, eating, chatting and watching a movie ... well actually choosing a movie to watch! In the evening we went down to the beach, walked a bit and soaked ourselves and splashed around. It was a bit saddening to say our goodbyes the next morning. Though we did make earnest promises to meet up at another such holiday the following year, wonder how true that can turn out to be. Keeping my fingers crossed.