France is just so much more fun than Italy!
Yesterday I went with a friend to Nice, France. Nice is only 2 hours by car from Genoa. The forecast was 18C and sunny and I couldn’t wait to wander through the old streets, the new streets and along Promenade des anglais. It has been a few years since I have stopped through this great city and all the memories and happy times came flooding back.
First, we parked over near the marina then wandered into the old flower market where on opposite sides sit rows of restaurants with fresh fish on the menu. I, of course, made the typical tourist blunder of the day and was set straight by the man trying to woo us over to one of his perfectly set tables.
My friend is Muslim and she has a strict Halal diet and only wanted french onion soup. This is France, certainly there must be french onion soup on the menu and while we’re at it lets get some crepes too. I inquired about the soup and was politely informed that I was in the French Riviera, not Pari…oh, but of course! What was I thinking, doh! Well how’s the fish soup then?
We ordered up some yummy food and forgot all about onion soup. Our 60ish year old, grey pony-tailed waiter shamelessly flirted with my Malaysian friend and even asked her for her address. Did he honestly think he had a shot with her? Was he hoping for a romantic rendezvous in Malaysia? We had a good laugh and went on our way.
Our next stop was the old village. We were not in the old part more than two minutes and my friend was pulling me into some designer shop. Linda is ten years younger than me and she loves fashion. I do too but it doesn’t usually match my wallet and Genoa isn’t exactly the fashion capitol of anywhere. But whenever I go out with her she makes me feel like I could wear bright orange and not feel, or more importantly look, like a traffic cone.
We shopped and chatted and explored as much as we could as dusk began to surround us. We had one more mission before we could leave and that was to find the one and only KFC. You know, a bucket of that greasy American fried chicken. Apparently her kids love the stuff and she promised to bring some back to Genoa.
We had an address and knew it was near the train station. We walked and walked and asked a few confused locals where it was. It was pretty obvious the French thought we were a couple of crazy, confused Americans craving fast food. My French is pretty non-existent so when I asked for directions to the restaurant poulet I got some pretty strange looks. Nevertheless, we found it and on the two hour drive back the car was filled with the aroma of fried chicken!
So this is me…carrying my bag of spiky blue ballet shoes (a birthday gift from Linda because she insisted I should have them), lady Gaga tights (which I will probably never wear) and cool stuff from Custo Barcelona. As you can see in this photo, I’m pretty low key with the colours, haha. I think my purchases may indicate a mid-life crisis is near 🙂
Below are mini snapshots of my new purchases as well as a cute pic of Linda wearing an orange coat and not looking anything like a traffic cone!