Last Monday week I had to fly to Nice, France on work business. I lived in Nice back in 2001/2002 for around six months, and I had not been back there since. It was strange, landing in an airport that I knew intimately (I flew in and out of it at least monthly while I lived there), and yet had not walked through it in years. It was a real shame that I did not make it into the city proper; time would simply not permit.
The old quarter of Nice is a fantastic place, full of meandering alleys, blackened by time and filled with stalls and tiny markets that sell all manner of wares and foodstuffs. I used to wander them every Sunday, and I used to rollerblade along the 3km promenade pretty much every night. Even in late Autumn and early Spring the weather would be warm, almost balmy at times, and gliding along after the sun had set, along the dark stretch of the Mediterranean, it gave a real sense of freedom unlike anything I have ever experienced in another city.
I miss Nice, and I miss the laid back French lifestyle and fantastic food. Most of all, I really miss rollerblading ...
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It's only 8:30 PM on this chilly London evening and I am already thinking of my warm, comfortable bed. Going to the gym twice in a row might have something to do with it, considering the last organised exercise I had was about this time last year. Still, it is a good tiredness, and eight hours of uninterrupted sleep will sort that right out.
