Hey hey! I’m in France with Sideboob! Let me walk you through our journey with a delightful display of photos, pithy observations, and wrap it up with a fun semi-disaster.
Well, to call it is disaster would be overly dramatic, but let me just toss it out there that I got to see Sideboob intimidated for the first time since I’ve known her.
Anyway, Sideboob planned this entire trip down to the last detail including a contingency plan in the event that our local flight from Paris to Menton was cancelled by the transportation strike.
FYI: We weren’t effected and each leg of our three-flight trip went perfectly.
So I worried about shoes.
But sometimes you just need to freak out about stuff. Sideboob knows better than to leave me in charge of anything because a mere 36 hours before the flight I was under the impression that we had a 4:50AM flight and I was 100% ready to bang on her window at 1am so we could get to the bus stop.
It was by sheer luck that I realized my error – and to be fair we would not have missed the flight – but she was careful to make sure there was no ambiguity of the time.
We caught the RTD to the airport and boarded our flight to Iceland lickety-split. We even took pity on a woman who, with her flight already boarding, was hella far back in the TSA line.
There’s no way that woman made her flight.
I slept like a baby from Denver to Iceland and we breezed through the airport in Reyjakavik … we had time to get coffee at Joe and the Juice which after being there three times feels familiar.
Our connection from Paris to Nice was a breeze (whew), we picked up the rental (notice the royal “We”) and an hour later we were in Menton.
It was raining and we just wanted to eat and go to sleep. Luckily we had this …
… and perhaps the darkest room I’ve ever slept in. We both woke up around 3am and read/talked until we fell back asleep.
What was I reading?
Only the finest that Instagram has to offer.
FYI, MIT should also fund research that gets to the bottom of who would win in a hippo/bear face-off. My boys want to know.
The forecast didn’t look good but Sideboob and I were determined to soldier on. Menton was a lovely town and it was hard to stop saying, “Wow, I bet this town is really pretty when it’s not raining.”
Do you know what you can do in the rain?
I swear, it was like a verbal tic. Menton is seriously gorgeous, though, with the city climbing up the hillside so it looks like a layer cake.
The next morning (after waking up at 9am, WOOT!) we drove to Eze. The stretch of road between Menton and Eze is legendary for its beauty but the weather was not having it.
Sideboob had planned out various stops to take photos but the weather was hurricane like at times so no can do.
We arrived in Eze, a medieval village built on top of a mountain and checked into La Chevre D’or, or the Golden Goat, only the most opulent and beautiful hotel I’ve ever been to.
We arrived early so we sat in the bar and enjoyed complimentary appetizers and drinks while our room was being prepared. Little did we know that would be the last complimentary thing we got …
The short story about this place is that a restauranteur and friend of Walt Disney was given the hot tip by old Walt himself to start buying up real estate. This guy did, and started with a restaurant, and whenever a piece of property pops up he snaps it up and adds it as a room in his hotel. This place is amazing and THANK YOU SIDEBOOB for giving me a night here as a Christmas gift.
We did our best to explore Eze but the rain was crazy. Like, super crazy.
You just have to go with it when you have no control.
We got soaked to the bone looking for a little Italian place where we could get a plate of pasta for under 20 Euros. We were cold and wet and just wanted a pile of food.
But they were closed and we had no choice but to eat at the fancy hotel restaurant.
Look, it didn’t go well.
It was super expensive and the portions were tiny and we felt so out of place because we weren’t dressed for the occasion. All our nice clothes were for warm weather so we had to squish our way into the restaurant with wet shoes and clothes.
Sideboob brought a washcloth to dry her feet under the table.
We aren’t into fine dining, we like good food but we want to be full and pretentious dining experiences just aren’t our thing; it’s why we work so well. But at that point we didn’t have any choice so I braced myself for a really expensive and mediocre meal … which was what we got.
Not surprisingly we were being judged by the waitstaff for 1) having to insist to the … um, sommelier … that No, we did indeed not order the full sized bottle of rosé, we wanted the demi bottle (which is French for half, BTW) and he pretended to be super confused and was like, “Oh. You want me to get the smaller bottle, no?”
That’s French for yes.
And B) We powered down three bread baskets. WITHOUT BUTTER! Now had this been any other situation Sideboob would have 100% demanded butter but she was oddly intimidated, dare I say cowed, by the situation.
Sideboob noted that our third basket only had the rolls and flatbread, conspicuously missing were the breadsticks.
That’s some varsity level passive aggression.
We just wanted a huge plate of basic pasta but ended up with whipped goat cream and crispy slivers of pork cheek that Sideboob was too afraid to eat.
Oh, and when I asked what whatever the fuck it was was on the menu, the server looked at me like, “It’s tuna eggs that have been compressed, fermented and shaved onto the food. Obviously.”
Hungry as we were, there was no way we were going to pay 17 Euros for some experimental tira-mi-su froth or someshit.
I’m also pretty sure we crossed some invisible line between beverage pourer and actual server. Either way, we just wanted to pay our $200 and get the fuck out of there because our feet were cold and wet and Sideboob had a bag of nuts in her luggage.
We stuffed our boots with wadded up newspaper and made the sleep of the dead.
The next morning was not only a ACTUALLY A NEW DAY, everything was different because it stopped raining and the forecast (which had predicted rain for the next few days) showed the rain stopping as of now.
We revenge ate a bunch of food at the breakfast buffet (and socked away some croissants AND BUTTER!) but THOSE FUCKING FRENCH won because the two poached eggs we ordered ended up costing us 18 Euros extra. Fuckers.
Just kidding, j’adore the French but get me the fuck out of pretentious restaurants that specialize in molecular cuisine.
For the rest of this trip our 18 Euro eggs will be the yardstick by which we measure all other expenses.
For instance, “Wow, for the price of two poached eggs we got a couple bottles of rosé,” or “You should totally get that sweater, it’s only what four eggs cost.”
Anyway, Eze by sunlight was a revelation and we spent the morning wandering around the Jardin Estranger and taking in the breathtaking view now that they weren’t mired in a thick layer of clouds and fog. It was beautiful.
We even backtracked through Monaco to the Tete de Chien (Dog’s Head) where we had the most incredible view of the coast.
We spent the afternoon wandering around the botanical garden and estate of Villa et Jardins Ephrussi de Rothschield.
We weren’t due in Nice until 4:00 so we stopped in Villefranche Sur La Mer for rosé and some loose planning to return for three weeks with family and friends in tow.
Wow. That was an epic amount of pictures.
We are in Nice now and I’m starving so it’s time to hit the covered market.