'Summer' as a Verb

[Note: This post includes a mess of links, as I find myself with a dearth of pictures to share. Rest assured, there is no (paid) product placement, and future posts will be more pictorial. I'm even considering video-blogging. Oh, I still love writing, but my fingers get tired of typing. And a picture/video is worth at least 999 words. Roughly.]

Vince, Honey and I packed up a couple of odds and ends for the return to our 'second home' in Nice. I've always (not-so-secretly) envied/admired/wanted to be one of the folks who has a second home, especially one who flits about the globe seasonally and peppers his conversations by using 'summer' as a verb without one iota of haughtiness or noblesse oblige. Imagine being someone who can blithely dash off on a whim -- at a moment's notice with nary a care or constraint.

OK, reality check: There was a bit of luggage involved (even though we left nearly everything we'd brought for our trip last year at our place in Nice). We had to lug a lot of electronic devices for our summer sojourn: 2 US cell phones, 2 French cell phones, a MacBook, Lenovo laptop, iPad 2, Kindle, Nikon Coolpix camera, and all the related cords, chargers, adapters and batteries. Luckily, I have a full-time freelance gig (that I like) to keep me busy and to pay the bills. And we had to pack the passports, tickets, dog-umentation (Honey requires reams of paperwork for international travel), along with a frilly frock or five. One must bring a few seasonal items for a summer by the sea, of course... But after check-in, we had only a small carry-on, a shoulder bag/murse, and one wee pup in a papoose.


The trip was uneventful, although our bums (and backs and necks) are still sore from the hideously uncomfortable ride from San Francisco to Munich. The seats on Lufthansa's airbus seem to be configured for contortionists. As we are short, we don't require much leg-room, but when the passenger in front of you reclines, you must do the same or get bopped in the noggin with a headrest. Ow. And said passengers were grumpy (OK, belligerent) when we kindly requested that they return their seats to the upright position during meal service. And we asked very nicely. When did 'polite' go out of style? Le sigh... The (lower level) lavatories were large and comfy, though. We'll check into getting seat assignments in the lav for our flight home in September.

Honey, of course, could teach the world a few lessons about good manners and a positive outlook. She logged 6,264 miles in a rather stylish Sherpa bag, under (cramped) airplane seats, without a pee break (at just under 18 hours from door to door). What a trooper.


The flight from Munich to Nice was on a much smaller (and far more comfy) plane, and we were greeted at the airport by our friends and neighbors Myriam and Andre. They whisked us back to 8 boulevard Victor Hugo with ease, catching us up on the gossip at Le Metropole, and welcoming us back home with much affection. They are so dear...

Not much has changed in our 'second home' since we were last in Nice. Our landlady, Christine, made a couple of quite tasteful decorative changes (love the chair) and ensured all was in order for our arrival (thanks ever so for the bottle of wine, Christine!). It was a treat to return to such familiar, welcoming surroundings.


Despite waves of jet-lag (Honey and Vince more than me -- thanks, Wal-Som), we're settling back in quite nicely. Today, I bought a set of digital scales (still shedding the weight I gained during our last stay in Nice), strolled around town, got some sun on the terrace, took a dip in the sea, and capped it all off with the perfect Negroni. Vince served a yummy salade Nicoise (nothing says 'Bienvenue a Nice' quite like a salade Nicoise) on the terrace. At this point, a warm bath seems in order. And I will take one, as soon as Vince finishes soaking his jet-lagged bones.

Life is good. And it's so good to be summering in Nice. Home, sweet (second) home.