trois

Woke up to a lovely sunrise the last day in Le Lavandou. Said au revoir to our hosts at the hotel. Stopped at the little bakery and grabbed a fresh croissant for the ride. Drank a cup of the wonderful coffee. We headed back to Nice.

After a momentary slip up and course correction we found DHL and shipped off the stuff. Went easier than I thought. My job was finished. Definite week of work, interspersed as it was with some culinary high points. My friend suggested that we see the town, do some sightseeing. We took a cab in to the vielle ville, the old city.

Walked around, saw a few things. Like this man, caning a chair.

It was fun walking around but we were both getting hungry. Un battalian can not marché on an empty stomach, no?

We looked around for a place to eat. I said that lunch was on me. La petit maison is the most famous restaurant in town but a little out of my league price wise.

My buddy was frantically looking up trip advisor for suitable reviews but I was getting tired and hungry and sort of convinced him to go to what looked like a typical tourist clip joint in front of the flower stalls.

I figure even the worst restaurant in France probably has something on the best place in America.

A Tunisian hawked us in, said that they served traditional food from the area, nicoise style and I said why not? I ordered a braised lamb shank that came with a potato terrine. Frankly they were delicious. My friend ordered something he hated, onion pizza I think and wouldn't stop complaining for some time. Hated the meal. Made him sick.

My feeling about restaurants and travel in general is to keep my own counsel. I don't put a lot of stock in reviews, loathe some places others love and vice versa. Would rather take a shot at times and fail occasionally than to worry about too much.

Leslie and I did Spain without a map or single reservation or booking. Had a great time. You figure it out as you go. The great unexpected blessing always trumps the occasional fail. Discovery. That is what works for us. Tough to keep us on script.

Walked back over to old King Neptune and the synchronized fountain after our meal.

Walked to a hotel where we might score a taxi.

Took a cab back to our hotel, the Novatel Arenas.

Watched some women's handball, a pretty cool sport and a football game or two. Watched a great movie about a young violin player that made me cry.

Woke up from a nice sleep in a nice bed and a clean room, right before my 4:00 a.m. wake up call.

Reversed my airlines and somehow got back last night, my venture satisfactorily completed. Had a supposedly traditional english breakfast at Gatwick at a place called Wetherspoons.

I'm sitting there for ten minutes can't get anyone to wait on me. Finally I accost the guy at the bar, a Hungarian who says no, you have to download the app and order online. Took twenty minutes to get the app installed right with the accompanying credit card, a joke.

I said what if I need a napkin do I have to send you an email? Or a glass of water? Should I text you? He said this is the way the world is going and I said I will have my old world back, thank you, but I guess we never can.

The trip wasn't remunerative, it wasn't intended to be. May turn out to be in the future, who knows.   I definitely gained some valuable and enjoyable experience points. Ate great food. Helped close friends who have been exceedingly good to me. Glad I went, glad I could be of service.