Our third city, and the first one by the sea. One apartment on the shore, open now.
Nice was Italian until 1860 and never quite stopped. The old town is a tangle of pedestrian lanes painted in the ochres and reds of Turin and Genoa, with wooden shutters, a baroque church on every other square, and a market that has sold flowers and vegetables on the same spot for two centuries.
We chose it over Lisbon and Palermo for three reasons: the light in winter, the train that reaches Italy in forty minutes, and the fish.
Bord de Mer
A balcony over the water, palms at eye level.
A corner of windows that turns to face the sea, a tiled balcony the width of the living room, and a quiet bedroom at the back over the terraced hillside. The swimming is across the road; the old town is a walk along the shore.
Nice, our way
A guide to the city, the way the Niçois use it.
Swim, then the market
The pebbles below the Quai des États-Unis before eight are locals only. Then the Cours Saleya: flowers and vegetables every day but Monday, when it turns to antiques.
The hill, and Italy by train
Climb the Colline du Château late in the day for the roofs and the bay. Or take the coast train: Villefranche in eight minutes, Menton in thirty-five, Ventimiglia in forty.
Socca, then the port
Socca standing up in the old town, then over the hill to the port for the honest fish restaurants. Ask us for the table.
