Missed Connections

Travel Lie #1: It's not the destination, it's the journey.
Dateline -- 29 July, 2009: Nice, France. We embarked on our adventure to Abeilhan, a very small hamlet in the the Languedoc region, with Honey leading the way to the train station.


A fairly uncomplicated journey (on paper), taking a train to Marseilles then connecting an hour later to a train headed for Beziers. Then a night's stay at Hotel de France in Beziers, where Mel would pick us up the next morning and take us to his home in Abeilhan. An easy, breezy journey to the Languedoc countryside for the summer.

Again, all of that was on paper. Spoiler alert: Not so much.

Honey got us to the station with plenty of time to spare, so we paused for cafe creme and croissants. I'm thinking now she planned it that way. And, yes, I have become one of those gay guys who sits at cafes feeding whatever he's eating to the small dog on his lap. Luckily, guys like me outnumber the guys who are not like me here in Nice.


Honey got sleepy after all that buttery good flakiness.


So much so, she flaked out on our first of two train rides.


The first leg was delayed, but the conductor assured us that our connecting train would be held. We arrived only 10 minutes late, but our connecting train was about to depart. Yikes! Vince and I pushed Honey, our baggage, and each other onto the first car we came to, then the doors clanked shut and the train skibbled down the tracks to Beziers.

Hot, sweaty, weary and cranky (me, anyway), we slunked through about a dozen cars to find our seats. Plush seats, in a first-class car. With a broken air conditioner. For two hours. Again, yikes!

At least we made the connection.

Grabbed a cab to the quaint Hotel de France, where the proprietress insisted we'd been there before. Perhaps we have doppelgangers running around in Southern France somewhere.


Anyhow, the owner was very kind and the room was charming. In fact, it was the perfect overnight pit stop after a hard day of travel. On paper. (Yes, another spoiler alert!)

The rate was a steal of a deal, Honey was welcome, and there was even free Wi-Fi. Wi-Fi that didn't really work. Exactly. Oh sure, I could get on the Web. But I couldn't get email. Or IM. Or a VPN connection to the client I was scheduled to work for that evening. Once again, yikes! Somehow, with all of those connectivity snafus, I was able to get on Skype to let my client know my predicament. Searched for an Internet cafe in town to and found precisely one. That was closing when I got there.

I would rather have missed our connecting train than end up going without a solid Internet connection for our brief stay in Beziers. It was the one connection that I truly needed. And I'm not even really a techno-geek. But sometimes digital nomads run into snags. Besides, tomorrow would be another day. And an easier one. Right?

Variety. Spice. Life. Do the Math.

Tomorrow, we leave for two months in the country. I've been reflecting on our time in Nice and how much it feels like our second home here. The people. The weather. The sights, sounds and smells, all so familiar and exotic at the same time.

Speaking of exotic sights and smells, here's a favorite place we'll miss until we return in October: the spice shop in Old Nice.






Must finish packing and get ready for tomorrow's train trip.

New Horizons

Walking around today, I discovered a new place to sunbathe and swim between the touristy beaches along the main drag in Nice (Promenade des Anglais) and the beach for locals on the far side of the port.



A series of concrete slabs lines a rocky part of the seacoast, and when I saw folks sunbathing there, I wondered how they got into the hazardous-looking, boulder-filled ocean to cool off. Even a chicken needs to refresh when turning around on a rotisserie spit. Not a place one would want to dive in. At least not headfirst.



Then I spied a ladder fixed to the rocks at one end of the row of concrete slabs. Climb in, climb out. Kind of makes the Mediterranean Sea your own private pool. Anyhow, that's where you'll find me tomorrow.

The day after tomorrow, we will consult our compass (and hope there's not some cute kid standing in the middle of it), and head to Abeilhan for two months.




Abeilhan is waaaaay out in the country in the Languedoc region of Southern France, near the Spanish border. It's not even a town, it's a hamlet (the smallest recognized form of communal entity in France). I think "Abeilhan" is French for "Hooterville." Anyhow, the house is big and lovely, and we have invited friends and family to come stay with us while we dabble at living in the French boonies -- er, countryside. If David Sedaris can do it, so can we!

Q & A

Some questions from friends and family have come our way. Here's an answer to one.

Q. What do you do when you're in Nice?
A. Take long walks. It's very relaxed here (as you might have gathered from previous posts). Sundays are especially leisurely, so we left our apartment (we're on the third level, with the little balcony) for a long stroll with Honey.



We hiked past the clock tower that keeps time (more or less) in the port of Nice.



Then we made our way into Vieille Ville (Old Town) Nice, where Honey and I paused for a picture.



Then we hiked up the hill toward the castle that overlooks town. There are some rather bad mosaics that dot the wall on one side of the walk. Vince and I figure someone in the Nice Historical Society had a relative with a glue gun and a lot of time on his/her hands.



Honey was tired after the hike.



But not too tired to meet a new friend.



We ambled back down to our favorite square, Place Garibaldi.



We each had a petite pression (small draft beer). Well, Vince and I did. Honey had water and a Milk Bone.



Yum. Sundays.

Saturday (Is Worth 5,000 Words)

A wonderfully uneventful Saturday on the beach. Today, I'll let the pictures do the talking. If the cliche about pictures is true, consider the following to be a 5,000-word essay.

Enjoy. Is sure did!

Like Sands Through the Hour Glass

The funny thing about staying in a resort town is time. In Nice, time is not of the essence. There is no rushing. The concept of frantic is not understood. Hours of the day are replaced by generalities: this morning, earlier, before, lately, soon, tomorrow, eventually, sometime.

There is a predictable rhythm, but it does not play out with split-second precision. If you desperately need a red bell pepper at 1:10 in the afternoon and zip across the street to the vegetable stand, you will find it shuttered. For lunch. For two hours. The veggie peddlers need to eat, too, after all. And of course they open their stand well before 7 in the morning and keep it open until sometime after 7 in the evening.

A lot of Nice commerce works the same way. Department stores, tourist shops and supermarkets stay open all day. But the small businesses here (and France is a nation of small businesses), go with the flow of the sun, the heat, the sea breeze, and the tide.

That's how I lost all track of time when I went to the beach this morning. I knew I also had to get some groceries today. Sometime. Later. Eventually.

But it was so beautiful. The sun, the sea -- look at that azure water!



So, this afternoon, when it came time to do some grocery shopping, I had to hit Intermarche, a supermarket that's open continuously throughout the day. Luckily, they allow dogs (like most places here). That was especially important, as dog food was at the top of my list, and I wanted Honey to pick out what she thought she'd like.



As it turns out, she likes the cheap stuff:



I left with a handful of euros, so we can both enjoy a bit of gelato tomorrow. Good girl, Honey!

Tatse of Nice

It had to happen. After cooking at home and chowing down on a lot of salads and the occasional boneless, skinless chicken breast -- it was time to sample some wonderful Nicoise cuisine today.

Our first stop was Le Gambetta for moules-frites (mussels and fries), a favorite dish at a favorite spot of ours in a decidedly non-touristic section of Nice, far north of the beach. We both love moules, but it really puts a smile on Vince's face.



Both of our bowls came packed with sweet mussels.



They went quickly. How cute is that little leftover baby mussel?



For dinner, we had salad at home again. But we stopped at the restaurant downstairs from our apartment (Socca d'Or) to pick up some socca for a side dish. Socca is like a crepe made of chickpea flour and olive oil. It's often served (as shown) torn up in a basket, piping hot, crunchy, chewy, and yummy. The guy at the restaurant had seen us around the neighborhood recently, and wouldn't allow us to pay. And no, he had no clue I was going to write about his restaurant.



Honey loves socca. She's still begging for more, although between the three of us, there's not a scrap left.

Red, White and (Velo) Bleu

Today's headline refers to my skin after getting some sun (red), my skin before sunbathing (white) and the (Velo Bleu) bike ride I took up and down the Promenade des Anglais after sunning by the sea. By the way, have you ever noticed that the Stars and Stripes has the same color scheme (red, white, blue) as the Tricolour? (Sorry, I can't resist riling Francophobes.)

Anyhow, I spent the day soaking up some local color at my favorite beach, Castel. Got a little red/bronze, but I feel so warm and tingly all over. Damp, dank, frigid (and lovely) SF is but a memory.



Castel is the last beach (heading east toward Italy) off the Promenade des Anglais before the port of Nice.



The Promenade is a very wide pedestrian area that parallels the many beaches in Nice, and it has a dedicated bike lane that runs for miles. When Vince and I were in Nice last year, I coveted every racing bike, 10-speed and Huffy that whizzed by. For some crazy reason, I wanted to get on two wheels and pedal my heinie off.

So I signed up for Velo Bleu (Nice's cheap city bike rental system), and it couldn't have been easier. Even for a tourist. Simply call 04.30.00.30.01 on your cell phone (for English, press 2), punch in a credit card number, and you're ready to rent a bike. With 90 Velo Bleu stations (and 900 bikes) in Nice, you are bound to find a cluster of bikes every few blocks. Find a station, select your bike, make a 10-second phone call on your cell, unlock the bike and go, go, go!




The best part: If you return your bike to any Velo Bleu station before 30 minutes is up, your ride's free. I was done in 25 minutes. Very cool.

A-Tisket, A-Tasket

Just a little yellow basket. For marketing. Oh, and carrying Honey around when she gets tired.



She didn't need it on our adventures today, but she was pooped after playing soccer with her new ball.



In other news, it was one year ago that Alec made Vince cry. Tears of joy, of course, at their wedding ceremony in San Francisco's City Hall.




A celebratory evening out is in order. We'll be popping Honey into her bag so we can take her to dinner with us. And, yes, we have spent more than a few moments throughout the day looking deep into each other's eyes and cooing and saying how lucky we are -- to have each other, Honey, and all of our treasured family and friends.

Fermé le Lundi

Fermé le Lundi (closed on Monday). You see that a lot on our street. The veggie market, the ham shop, the fish monger, the food hall -- all closed on Monday. We're thinking it's because those places are all open on Sundays.

So, as we were unable to squeeze tomatoes or sample ham shavings, we strolled around town and took care of some loose ends so the rest of summer would go smoothly. We got round-trip train tickets to Beziers (the town nearest the hamlet where the Goldsteins live -- we're exchanging homes with them for August and September). Honey's ticket was only 5 euros each way -- first class. It's a dog's life in France.

We also paid for the other apartment we'll be staying in for a couple of weeks in October. It's the same place we rented last fall. Much more spartan and quite a bit smaller than our current deluxe digs, but the balcony there is huge. Outdoor living at its finest.

While on our stroll, I found a second-hand bookshop and bought this:



Yep. Fannie Flagg's Fried Green Tomatoes in French. I'm hoping my knowledge of the movie (“You’re just a bee charmer, Idgie Threadgoode”) will help me with my limited French vocabulary.

Bon chance (good luck), Alec!

Slow Sunday sur La Plage

Spent a slow, sunny, sweet Sunday taking it easy. Left Vince and Honey at home in the afternoon so I could grab some soleil sur la plage (sun on the beach). On my way to the sea, I stopped at my favorite gelato stand, Fenocchio and had a small dish of vanille poivre rose (vanilla with pink peppercorns) gelato. Sounds crazy, tastes wonderful. Honest!

Swam in the salty blue Mediterranean, got some color, and enjoyed the conviviality of a packed beach. You can get an idea of how crowded it was by checking the Nice Web cam. Click on the view of Plage Sud-Ouest (Southwest Beach) on the far right, then click the Historique (history) drop-down menu on the left. If you select aujourd'hui 15:50 (today at 3:50 pm), you might even see me waving at the camera.

On the way back to the apartment, I stopped by Fenocchio and picked up some riz au lait (rice pudding) gelato for Honey.



The picture's blurry because she really went to town with her treat. I think she's discovered her new favorite flavor. At least for today.

Puppy Proof

We've had a lovely day in Nice. The humid air gave way to a fresh breeze (yet still very sunny and warm), and Honey has a pep in her step once again. I think she's gotten acclimated, and all three of us are over our jet lag.

As Honey has been so lively, it was time to address our concerns about the balcony. We are three floors up, and the rail around the balcony is not safe for a dog of Honey's petite stature. So, I popped into the hardware store on the corner and grabbed the requisites (green plastic netting and a spool of green wire) for "puppy-proofing" the balcony. One hour later (I'm pseudo-handy, but slow), and voila:




Also noteworthy, Velo Bleu launched in Nice today. It's a very cheap, citywide system that lets folks grab one of 900 bicycles from 90 pickup/drop-off spots and ride as far (and for as long) as they like. Paris has had a similar system for some time.

The best part? There's a pickup/drop-off point right in front of our apartment building. Tomorrow, I'll look into using the system. I hope it's not just for locals.

Settling In

Arrived in Nice yesterday to hot-n-sticky weather. It's the perfect cure for San Francisco fog! A little overcast today, and not so oven-like. Honey appreciated that, as she has yet to acclimate to summer in the Mediterranean.

The apartment we rented is in a working-class neighborhood near the port. Lots of retirees, some young families, a handful of gay folks, a few immigrants, and hardly a tourist in sight; a nice mix of locals on a budget. We fit right in and feel very much at home.

Here's a video tour, filmed by the Ray and Kim, the apartment's owners:



This is our fourth long-term rental in Nice, and we're thinking we might like this place the best. It's spacious, nicely decorated, has oodles of conveniences (especially for the digitally inclined: tons of TV channels (TCM and BBC World News? Heaven!), free phone calls to the U.S. and Europe, an iMac with wireless keyboard + mouse, and Wi-Fi throughout the place). I'm a geek in paradise. Even newshound Vince appreciates having access to cable news channels.

The only thing missing: a salad spinner. At least, we couldn't find it. Come to think of it, none of the places we've rented have had one. We've bought one every time we've stayed in Nice. Hello, Salade Nicoise, anyone?

So that was today's adventure: buying a salad spinner. And we picked up this salad bowl while we were at it. It was just too ugly to pass up! Bon appetit!

Dog Is My Co-Pilot

Actually, dog (Honey, specifically) is my traveling companion. Vince is my co-pilot. For this trip, however, pilot and co-pilot flew on separate flights to Frankfurt. Why? American Airlines will allow dogs in the cabin of the plane for flights that are over a sea, but not an ocean. Huh? That's what we said. Anyhow, we had AA Frequent Flier miles to burn, so Vince flew American (changing planes in Chicago). Alec and Honey flew direct on United. Guardianship has its privileges.

In a future blog entry, I'll give some details about all the hoops one must jump through to take one's canine companion to Europe. Oh, the paperwork.

For now, I submit the following: one very pooped pup (yes, dogs get jet lag) last night after an 11-hour flight from SFO to Frankfurt).



And this morning, the Queen of the Luggage Cart (a.k.a. Miss World Traveler) with Vince.



Honey is indeed an amazing (and adaptable) dog. I hope she enjoys this adventure as much as Vince and I expect to. I think she will.

The Journey Begins, Part Deux

I started this blog last October when Vince and I took our first extended trip (three months in Nice, France), and I published -- drumroll, please -- one entry. This time, it's for real. We'll be in Nice again, but in the coming months, we'll also be in France's Languedoc region (mmm, wine!), taking some day trips to Spain (mmm, paella!) and experiencing our first house swap together. All with our wee pooch, Honey, in tow.

We started out yesterday, and it's quite late as we take an overnight breather in Frankfurt, Germany (at the Frankfurt Airport's glamorous Holiday Inn Express). But I already have a story to share. Actually, I already have a few stories -- but only have enough steam left to relate this one.

Waiting to board my plane at SFO, guess what guest star from last season's "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List," contestant from this year's "Dancing with the Stars," and Apple Computer co-founder glides up on a Segway? Yep, Steve "Woz" Wozniak.

Nice guy. Very approachable, and he signed my MacBook and Time Capsule. He even provided his own Sharpie.


Alec: "Mr. Wozniak?"
Woz: "Yes?"
Alec: "Would you please sign my MacBook?"
Woz: "Of course."
Alec: "Great. Do you have a Sharpie? I just have a ballpoint pen."

Hey, if you don't ask...

Next stop: Nice and the sunny, sultry Cote d'Azur.