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Alas my holiday is no more and I've returned to work which has celebrated my arrival with people getting killed or married all over the place and I feel like I've spent so much time on the phone to Social Services that my lover ought to suspect that I'm having an affair.

However! all is not dire and my sejour in France was very very very nice indeed despite the fact that Easyjet lost Z's luggage [but they coughed it up the next day and he bought a very nice shirt with my loving guidance, so in fact in an oblique way I’m grateful].

Z has taken a million zillion pictures [including a very unattractive one of me with my stomach all bloated] for which there shall be revenge, and I've posted a number of them behind the cut and in the album. On the same note, I think I need to find some alternate cheap or free photo hosting – does anyone have any recommendations?

The trip was good. Much food was eaten and wine drunk and sun sat in. I liked Z's friends [Jelica, Ljupka and Branko], and Z and I got on beautifully except for that time when he made my hair wet in the sea [a breakupable offence in anyone's book], so I tried to avenge myself by drowning him in the sea [an enterprise which he resisted with all his heart and superior upper body strength], and then when I succeeded pulled me down with him in a most unsporting way [bastard].

We spent the first two days in central Cannes which contained a lot of thin, brown, stylish people, a lot of yachts, and about a towel's worth of free public beach, so Z and I sunned ourselves lizard-like on the rocks. Cannes was a pretty laid-back, snotty town and there wasn't much to do except walk around and see people and be seen. However, we found a number of delightful things there such as: a very reasonably priced set menu in a very swanky fish restaurant, a Russian ballet troupe performing folk dances, a Serbian street and waiters who let Z try to order beers in French.

Afterwards we decamped for a different accomodation in the outskirts of Cannes, next to a railway track and miles and miles and miles of perfect near-empty sandy beach. We were staying in some behemoth holiday resort made up of many many many apartments and immesurable amounts of teenage Croats who were deposited there daily by the busloads [Z: I have travelled so far, for this?]. Cannes-The-Outskirts was delightful and distinguished by an abundance of cheap, beautiful food and a local Bistro with leopard print seats which sold 3 Euro cocktails and let us play card games at our table.

And because I was teamed up with freaks who thought it was amusing to get up early and Do Stuff, we made several day trips to local towns. We went to Antibes [beautiful] and Cagnes-sur-Mer [peopled by xenophobic pensioners, but has a lovely Medieval Old Town]. We then rented a Renault Megane for a day and erronously put Unleaded Petrol into a Diesel engine almost immediately after. However, we realised our mistake soon enough [and before the engine exploded or some such excitement] and by chance ended up five minutes from a local Renault garage which fixed the problem in only four hours [thanks to the two hour French lunchbreak]. The original plan had been to drive into The Var and see some France off the beaten tourist track, but my lover decided to make up the five hours of daylight time that we had lost by driving as fast as possible down tiny French country roads and flinging the car cheerfully into the hairpin bends. It was a very fortunate thing for him that he was the only person in that car with a driving license because that was the only thing that stood between him and Grevious Bodily Harm since the three people in the back of the car [self included] were getting jostled around like cows in a cattle truck and baying for his blood.

We saw some lovely scenery going by very fast [since Z was on his quest to make up lost time] and some little towns that looked beautiful [and probably would have been fabulous had we been allowed to stop in them], we saw hills and forests and vineyards and horses grazing peacefully all of which I’d have been thrilled to show you but by the time I’d got the camera working focused on something pretty we’d be about 5km away. So! As a consolation prize here is the picture of some French biker chicks wearing very short skirts and rather high heels.Those wacky French, what will they think up next!

Having given up on my wimpy assertions that I can’t take pictures if he doesn’t slow down, Z disproved the suggestion that men can’t multi-task by driving with one hand and using the other hand to alternatively try and take pictures, smoke a cigarette and answer his mobile phone while cheerfully continuing with his previous policy concerning bends. All sorts of other remarkable things happened, we came across a pretty lake, some kind of vengeful cross between a dog and a werewolf, and I was even wrong! Twice!

But we survived, and by evening I had sufficiently recovered to deign to get in the car again and we drove to a small pretty coastal place called Juan-les-Pins where we strolled around and then later sat in bars on the beach and drank more coctails and listened to each other and the sea.

The next day Z and I parted company with the others and went to Nice, and walked around so much that my feet near fell off but the old town was great and I was doubly rewarded for physical exertions by being taken to a lovely dinner and finding that the hotel was much closer than we’d thought.

After that we went to Monaco, to see nanji and all the pretty funky places, and as a bonus we spotted Triathlon athletes [sprinting uphill in midday heat], lots of plastic cows and red carpet leading down to the beach.

Our final day in Nice was lovely. I browsed happily for hours in the flea market, we had lush meals, listened to street musicians [my favourite was the pianist who’d lugged his piano to the middle of the square], sat on the steps of the Palais de Justice watching motorbikes drive through pedestrian zones in front of the law Courts and judges sneak out for smoke breaks. And then we wondered over to the seafront and sat on tall rocks leaning against each other and watching the sea and even though we were flying off that evening all I could think of was What a perfect day.






Fun in the Sun
Fun in the Sun







Cagnes-Sur Mer
Cagnes-Sur Mer

The old town
Z calls this The Little Pink Riding Hood
Z calls this "The Little Pink Riding Hood"

The infamous five holidaymakers
The infamous five holidaymakers

From left: Branko, Jelica, Yours Truly, Z and Ljupka
Cagnes Sur Mer
Cagnes Sur Mer

a view from the Grimaldi Castle


Cagnes Sur mer
Cagnes Sur mer

a square with cats
Antibes
Antibes

Passageways leading away into town from the beach
An unexpected lake in Var, Somewhere
An unexpected lake in Var, Somewhere

Nice
Nice

A sunset somewhere on the French coast
A sunset somewhere on the French coast

Blinging Cow
Blinging Cow

Monaco







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rainsinger
Sep. 18th, 2005 10:14 am (UTC)
*Purryness*

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rainsinger
deep sky, firefly

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