Here's the view from the station.
That very weekend was time for both the Cannes Film Festival and the Monaco Grand Prix. Both would spell crowds and line-ups. So we had opted to take the train to Nice, just ten minutes and a tunnel away.
There we just wandered along the streets, slowly working our way to the beaches.
A block or so away from there we found a traffic-free mall (Rue France?) with shops and restaurants.
We stopped at one which promised Paella (a Spanish dish, really) and Bouillabaisse (how French can you get?). So we sat down to order one of each.
The Bouillabaisse looked a little more complicated than I had anticipated. As I tentatively started to try eating from the multiple bowls and plates set in front of me, a gentleman, who was reading at a table behind us, came over and slapped my hand: "No, no, no!"
He then carefully spread the spread on the dry crusty bread, then dipped the bread in two containers of cheese gratings and finally put this is the empty bowl. Then he ladled the Bouillabaisse into the bowl over the bread. Over my protestation he insisted on feeding me the first spoonful. Just so Momma wouldn't be jealous he did the same for her. So now we are experts in the art of eating Bouillabaisse. Aren't you glad?
We walked along the seaside avenue where I learned that toplessness is optional in France.
What, you thought I was going to take a picture? Mon Dieu! (Our ship is anchored behind that promontory.) So we wandered back to the train station and arrived all too soon in VilleFranche. Tonight we would be packing for five days on a Trafalgar bus tour and I had to burn our cruise pictures onto a c.d. to free up memory for Italy. So we bade farewell to VilleFranche and boarded a tender back to the ship.
Au Revoir France. Good-bye Cruise.
Buon Giorno Italia!
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