The French Riviera 5/8/08

There was no breakfast being served in the morning to the hostel I was in, so there was really no point to getting up too early. I slept in till a comfortable hour, and then casually made my way to our tiny bathroom to shower. When I was finally ready to greet the day, it was around noon, and I headed out the door onto the main street.

The city looked a lot different in the light, although not any less spectacular. People were everywhere, piled into shops, and clustered around street vendors like gulls after a bread crust. The prices, even on the tiny vendors, were grossly overpriced. Everyone was here to for the sole purpose of spending lots of money, and lounging on the beach. As I walked, my nostrils were filled with that comforting smell of sea salt and sunscreen, which I'd come to love back home. To me it always smelled like summer, and good friends. I stopped and closed my eyes and pretend I was back home for a while, which was not hard. The architecture in Southern California is all based on that French Riviera style. The houses adorned with clay shingles are all like those in San Juan Capistrano, and Santa Barbara. The plant arrangements, and coastline back home are all a part of that Medditerranean feel. Often I forgot I was even in France, because none of it looked at all like Colmar or other images I'd had in my mind of France. The beach itself however, doesn't look anything like back home. The sand is not really sand at all, but rocks. It's not even like the beach is rocky. At home me have Doheny Beach which is full of rocks, and after walking around in the sand for a while your feet'll start to bleed. However the rocks here are all smoothe like the hot stones they use for spa treatments. It's strange to see the coastline covered with these perfectly smoothe stones, as of someone individually laid them there.

Today was an interesting day to be in France, also because it was VE Day. VE Day (Victory in Europe) was the day of the Nazi surrender in WW2, and so the whole town, and I can only assume the whole country, was alive and partying. There were streamers, and musicians playing in the streets. All of the privately owned shops in the city were closed, however all the stores on the main strip stayed open. Around near the pier, there stood a huge memorial to all the French soldiers. Massive crowds gathered around for most of the day while heads of state stopped by periodically to pay their respects, and get their photo ops with other country officials.

Because food was so expensive here, I tried to hold off for lunch as long as I could. I discovered though, that the cheapest places to eat were all right around my hostel, which was still a little way from the beach. The further down, closer to the beach you got, the more expensive the food was. So if I was going to eat something, I needed to do it while I was still near my hostel, otherwise wait until I headed back in that direction.

For the rest of the day, all I prettymuch did was walk around, and lay out on the beach. It was nice to just lounge around. It seems I've been having a lot of time lately, to just hang around. The beginning of my trip was almost non stop action, and constant motion, but now I think I've hit a lull in my trip where things seem to be slowing down a little. However with all this time to just sit around, the boredom and loneliness starts to set in.

You can really only walk through so many places, and the beautiful places to see in Nice are all right there on the coast and down the strip. After you've covered that, you just find a relaxing place to lay down, and bake under the sun. There aren't really any cool little shops here like there are in other cities in Europe, everything's part of a massive chain, and all the stores along the strip sell clothes, and souveniers you can prettymuch buy anywhere for half the price. On the other side of the big touristy hill, there are a bunch of cool antique shops near the harbor, but they were all closed today for the holliday. I sat, and I people watched for a lot of the day.

In terms of beautiful people, the French Riviera is certainly full of them. Walking along the beach here can be torture on any man with moral fiber. Women lay topless, sunbathing shamelessly sprawled out on the rocks. However, I'm somewhat desensitized to nudity since I've been in Europe. This whole area just about got over the whole nakedness thing long ago. It's portrayed in their paintings, statues and architecture. On billboards and every commercial women are very seldom ever clothed, and as long as the women's nether regions aren't shown (or she sits in a way to cover it up), it's all fair game. On primetime TV you've got cartoons and sesame street and topless women on adjacent channels. It's just a different culture. In the Middle East you couldn't even show a woman's neck on regular TV. Back in America, we have sort of the middle ground, but here in Europe it's all very acceptable. In a way I think that's pretty cool. From the time these people are little kids they see nudity all over the place, and they start not to associate it at purely sexual. It's just another human body, and as a result of seeing it that way, they're much more comfortable with themselves. I wish I had half the confidence in my own body to walk out there on the beach wearing the banana hammocks so treasured by old, fat French men. It is true what they say, that 90 percent of the naked people on beaches in France are not the sort you want to see naked. The good looking ones are few and far between.

When the sun finally went down, I watched the sunset sitting on the rocks near the shore. Behind me, a group of guys from South America had gotten a fire going, and sat in a circle around it playing a wide assortment of drums. A couple of them cast lines into the ocean, hoping to catch something they could cook over their open fire. They played on well into the night, and the little French town took on, again that tropical feel. A little ways further down the beach I called my sister, Amy. I started to miss home a little, and needed someone familiar to talk to.

It's hard meeting people, knowing you'll probably never see them again. I long for a friend here that'll know who I am the next day. For the past 2 months I've lived a life of single-serving friends, leaving again to meet all new ones who I'll eventually have to leave also. After a while of that, you start to feel removable. It's as if the world turns, and you're standing above watching. I pop in and out of people's lives everyday, but it's importaint to feel anchored to something, or more specifically, someone. I love the people I've met, and I love that I continue to meet new people, but I miss my friends and family who know me. These people I've spent time learning about, and getting to know are really the only things that keep me from fading out of existance altogether. I have identity because I have people who know me. My name is just a label, and my image, just a face; but who I am resides in the hearts of those who miss me when I'm gone.

I felt much better after connecting with my sister. She told me to go walk around and buy myself a lavish drink, on her. That night I met, and talked and laughed with some of my roommates who were mostly all leaving in the morning. It was good to meet them, but it was sad to see them go.


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