Nice is more than nice.

It’s that holiday feeling, without feeling touristy.

Baie des Anges, Nice. Photo by me.

Travelling on my own, for a few days either side of a week in Provence with friends, my holiday coincided with the Monaco Grand Prix and the last weekend of the Cannes film festival, so hotel rooms were few, and expensive. I felt lucky to get a bright room with a sea view, to the rear of the runway, at the airport Ibis. On the western end of the Promenade des Anglaise, it turned out to be a great base, safe, welcoming, and minutes to the Mediterranean, the beach and the absolutely fantastic tram system.

My room with a view at the Nice Airport Ibis. Photo by me.

It was a long time since I’d been in Nice so after checking in, I jumped on the tram and travelled the length of the town to the old Port Lympia. Stretching my legs after my flight, I wandered about admiring the yachts, the super yachts at the Port de Nice, and the people, before mingling with the locals, for a late lunch, around the streets of Le Petit Marais. That is, the streets behind the Place de l’Ile de Beauté and around Rue Bavastro, where there’s an abundance of delicious looking cafes and places to sit and eat.

To get back to the sea and the Promenade des Anglais, I walked back out to the port quay, and around the base of the Colline du Chateau, and past the Monument aux Morts. Being the end of May, the weather hovering around 20• C was what I call perfect. Cool enough to preamble along the promenade yet warm enough to take a dip in the waters of the Mediterranean.

Nice tram tunnel transition, Port Lympia. Photo by me.

Don’t be fooled by the blue of the sea, it’s warmer than you think and harder than it looks to get out of … Note to future self: The “galets”, that is, the small, smooth stones that comprise the shore make, with holiday pedicured wet feet, getting out of the water and back to your towel impossible without, let’s say, the kindness of strangers.

The galets of Nice and a smoothly manicred foot. Photo by me.

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Quickly returning to the Promenade des Anglais, I walked it’s four kilometres along the Baie des Anges back towards my hotel, making note of the gateways in to the old town and the Marche aux Fleurs before stopping at the Radisson Blu’s roof top bar for a much needed glass of wine to restore my dignity.

Next morning I took the tram to Place Garibaldi for breakfast in it’s namesake before getting the bus up to the Musee Matisse. Unfortunately, the paintings were on tour in Tokyo but the gift shop sold me great earrings, the Djamel Tatah exhibition gave me something to think about and I’d something else to add to my “need to return to Nice for” list. A list that includes a visit to Eileen Grey’s house E-1027, less than an hours train journey away, in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin and Corb’s Unite d’Habitation, a scenic two and a half hours away by train, the other direction, in Marseille.

The winding, hilly streets of Nice’s old town are full of great little shops to get on trend bikinis and great hats. Needing one, I couldn’t resist buying two from “Chapellerie Elegante” on the corner of Rue du Pont Vieux and Rue de la Boucherie before an early dinner at “Safari” in Cours Saleya, recommended by my sisters. Despite them being vegetarians, I ordered the steak and was very comfortable sitting there for the evening, sipping my wine, listening to people talking about the Grand Prix and reading my book.

A Nice afternoon. Photos by me.

Returning from Provence, I stayed at the Mercure Nice, again on the Promenade des Anglais, but this time up by the Jardin Albert 1er. Note, if you’re meeting friends, there are two on this part of the Prom, the other is just in front of the Cour Marche aux Fleurs. Another great location with friendly staff helping, travelling solo Susan, feel welcome and safe. Up early the next day, and wearing my neoprene sea shoes, I went for a lovely and dignified swim in the Med. before having a lazy breakfast at Balthazar, on the sea front.

After a relaxingly hectic week in Provence, with old friends and new, it was great to have a few hours to myself wandering and writing before meeting said new friends, Nice regulars, at their favourite restaurant for a rosé fuelled lunch.

And how “delighted” was I, to be able to say “I know it well”, when they said it was “Safari”.

Safari Nice, second time I enjoyed the Ravioli á la Nicoise. Photo by me.