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Nice to Say Goodbye
And invade it did. By morning we felt as though a squadron of penguins had assailed us. To warm up, we cycled back into Nice. Gawking out into the Mediterranean, I spotted a dinghy pulling a neat row of beginner sailboaters to open water. Silhouetted in the sun's golden path, they formed a perfectly spaced troupe like baby ducklings trailing after their mother. After visiting the Matisse museum with its wonderful grounds surrounded by ancient olive trees and Roman ruins (Nice, to my amazement, was founded in 4 bc) we headed for the ferry terminal. I didn't want to miss the boat after waiting three days. At the terminal, Sharon immediately discovered the shower. She disappeared so long I began to worry she had drowned. But, just before final boarding call, she returned, pink and jubilant, extolling the virtues of hot water. Had I known how long it would be until our next real shower, I too might have parted with a few francs. We secured our bikes in the bowels of the ferry, then followed a pleasant porter to the seventh deck where passengers without berths were banished and settled into reclining chairs for the overnight trip to Corsica, a hundred miles to the south. |
Dave & Cathy in sunny San Jose, CA
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