Nice and Easy in Nice
After we arrived in Nice, it took a couple of days to recall why we’d chosen this French city as the final stop on our Nomad Year. Not because it was unworthy, but because the decision had been made so many months earlier, in a haze of spreadsheets, Airbnb filters, and planning malaise. Then we remembered. It was all about the sea.
Charlotte spent childhood summers just down the coast in Cannes, and a part of her has never stopped longing for the warm, azure waters and temperate rhythms of the Côte d’Azur. Sure, the Pacific is stunning and a surfer’s dream, but nostalgia calls.
Sisters. Questioning the haircuts? Join the club
Childhood summers
There’s a particular kind of nostalgia baked into this French coastline—it smells like Ambre Solaire and tastes of pan bagnat. Peals of laughter and gently lapping waves form the soundtrack, and the image captures the drift of two sisters, floating on a li-lo, sun-burnt shoulders rubbing together, filling lazy 9-hour beach days with nothing and everything.
When the family moved from Singapore to England, Charlotte’s mom could not escape the drear and drizzle fast enough. Every summer, they piled their tiny selves into a tiny Mini and drove south to a tiny basement apartment just a few blocks from the expansive sea. This was their version of family camp. Every summer for 6 years, the same patch of sand, the same people, the same routine.
One year, they stayed, and the girls were enrolled in French preschool (not recommended). Their memories from that brief academic career consist mainly of forced nap times and the threat of a ruler for any noncompliance. Tragically, very little actual French can be recalled.
Solo lingual forever
In fact, in Nice, we have the hardest time communicating, despite having both studied French in school. Perhaps the swift moves from Spanish to Italian to French have forever broken our bilingual capacity. We are constantly throwing out a “per favore” and a “sì” when what we really mean is “s’il vous plaît” and “oui.” Full cringe.
Promenade des Anglais, Nice
Sea planning
When planning our final sea-anchored month, we scoured the Mediterranean for somewhere connected (both digitally and by air), offering a robust restaurant scene and modern, stylish Airbnbs. Was Nice our dream vacation destination? Honestly, no. If we were planning a getaway with no constraints at that time, Nice might not have topped the list.
But, for what we needed to close out our Nomad year, it was spot on.
Antibes, Villefranche-sur-Mer-sur-mer, Cap Ferrat
Slo-mad
If our time in Lucca felt like downshifting into a lower gear, then Nice feels like the engine has stalled completely. Sorry, Nice, but we’re not here for your museums or your cathedrals. Sure, we’ll meander through your daily market and stroll the Promenade des Anglais, but don’t expect too much more from us. We’re here to start the workday with a solid workout and end it with a dip in the sea and a bowlful of moules.
Cassie and Aidan would have been thrilled to find us in this blissfully chill phase. But they arrived at the beginning when we were still figuring things out. With them, we were on overdrive, biking and transit-ing our way to Villefranche-sur-Mer, Antibes, and Cap Ferrat. So, in a role reversal, we were Sean, all full of ideas, and they were (happily, as ever) along for the ride.
Poli bike in Nice
Until…
“Is that my bike?” Charlotte asked, pointing across the street at a bright yellow bicycle. Her own had just been discovered missing from the rack where it was supposed to be locked up. But after a beat, Doug looked closer and replied, “No… that’s my bike.”
So what happened
So what happened to our beloved Poli bikes from Lucca?
Lugged from Lucca to the Cinque Terre and finally to Nice. Across eight trains, one of which was packed to the gills, and left our fellow passengers visibly annoyed. Up and down countless train station stairs, several elevators, and two escalators. Secured in Vernazza while we hiked for a weekend. All this hassle to avoid the cost and logistics of re-renting or buying bikes yet again in Nice. So what happened?
low hp boating Côte d’Azur
Well…
First, they were vandalized. Then they were stolen.
On our first outing with Cass and Aidan, we rode to Villefranche to pick up a boat for the day. On the ride, our trusty bikes seemed like they were actively rebelling. The gears ground, there was a new wobble, and they huffed and puffed up the hills. But we persisted, thinking they just needed to get back in shape, when in hindsight, they had for sure been messed with.
Blissfully unaware, we spent an amazing day on the water, bobbing around in our low-power boat, and dipping in and out of the cerulean sea. The day already seemed perfect, and then arrived a floating bar bateau, zipping through the cove to deliver us cold beverages. Beyond.
A wild ride
On Doug’s return ride, things escalated when his front wheel fell off entirely. Mid-ride. On a road with cars. Thanks to good reflexes and dumb luck, he did not go flying over the handlebars.
Turns out, someone had removed the wheel pin and left it, ominously, back at our bike parking spot, where we found it the next day. Said vandal had likely kicked in our gears as well as a “Welcome to Nice” and also “Go fuck yourself.”
Au revoir, trusty vélos
Doug left his bike where it was on the side of the road, sans wheel, and took an Uber. So it was his bike that someone had picked up, fixed up with a new pin, and locked in the spot we were currently looking at. Charlotte’s bike is still MIA, but we are on the lookout.
Luckily, we have decided that we don’t need the bikes anymore. We rode East to Villefranche-sur-Mer. We rode West to Antibes. We really don’t need to go anywhere else. And nor do we need the exercise.
view from our airbnb
More stairs
Our Airbnb is just lovely with a perfectly shaded balcony, exquisite design, and a climb of 93 absurdly tall and somewhat uneven stairs to reach the top. Often executed multiple times a day. Not quite as many as Bologna’s tower Airbnb, but close. And we found a kick ass cycle studio to boot.
Like our other Airbnb choices, the climb is worth it for the airy deck, perfectly shaded with a peek of the sea, a clear view of the Cascade du Château (waterfall) above, and live music wafting up from the alley below. It is the kind of place where you can sip coffee, watch the light change, and pretend the world is far away.
Except for when Nice delivers the daily jump scare
“Jesus Christ!!,” we exclaim in unison, every day at noon, when the cannon announces the time. We love the idea of a reminder that it’s lunchtime, but for the love of God, does it have to be a cannon? Between this and the constant ringing of church bells at random times that do not seem to have any significance (our least favorite being the ones at 7:05 am), when the emergency siren finally went off, no one batted an eye. Stop crying wolf, Nice.
And while these sirens and booms can be earth-shattering, the other backbeat of Nice is actual shattering. For reasons unknown, something is always breaking—at the restaurant, on the bar, on the beach. It seems there is always a glass flying off a table or being launched at you by a waiter. And the cleanup is an uninspired wave of the broom. Never, ever walk barefoot in this town.
a visitor
Back to the Airbnb
The apartment came with a cat, briefly. She appeared one afternoon, hopping along the roof and settling beside Charlotte at her outdoor workstation. She was the kind of cat that could turn anyone into a cat person. All green eyes, “meow,” and “scratch my head.”
But the next day, we discovered her sweet little paw prints leading in through the bathroom window… and probably across Doug’s pillow. The aftermath was a spectacular allergic reaction, and a helpful reminder that, deep down, we are dog people.
beaching at sunset
Beach days
When we’re not climbing stairs, being meowed at, jumping out of our skin, or working (boo), we are in the sea.
Unlike Cannes, the beach here is all rock, and getting in or out of the water requires both strategy and sacrifice. Just ask Amy, Charlotte’s college roommate, who, on a particularly rough day during their post-grad grand tour, staggered ashore looking like she’d survived a shipwreck. Dazed, bloodied, clutching her dignity and the remains of her bikini for dear life.
That memory was enough to send us straight to the sports shop, where €12 water shoes became the best investment of the trip.
Despite Amy’s experience, the sea here has been calm for us. Don’t expect big tides or surfable waves, though there are a few rocks to leap from if you’re feeling bold. Otherwise, it’s all about the gentle float, best enjoyed once the UV slips below 2 and the sky begins to blush pink.
Slip on your sea booties and wade straight in. Pause to savor the absence of any temperature shock, then discover you can float effortlessly, upright if you like: Bobbing with toes pointed down, like a straw standing tall in a spritz.
Vieux Nice one more of Aid and Cass because they are so darn cute
High Praise
As much as we’ve claimed Nice might not be our first choice for a short getaway, we realize we have been proving ourselves wrong, popping back here again and again over the years. Why? Because it’s easy to get to, and as a city on the sea, it offers way more than a sleepy seaside town.
So don’t write it off. Base yourself in Nice and spend your days zipping up and down the coast. The trains are smooth, made easy with the Pass SudAzur Explore. The Lime ebikes are zippy. Holland Bikes offers non-e bikes if you want a workout out and Uber’s just a tap away if someone steals your pretty yellow vélo.
Then you can spend your evenings exploring the excellent restaurants and bars this town has to offer, wandering through Nice’s many lively neighborhoods, and strolling along the Promenade.
Not to say Nice isn’t nice during the day. There’s more public beach here than in much of the Côte d’Azur (just don’t forget the water shoes), and a handful of private beaches if you want a sunbed. And there’s always a glass of divine Provencal rosé to keep you happily distracted between swims.
If you do visit, here are some excursions and experiences worth adding to your list:
Antibes
Coastal rides and day trips
Hop on a bike (or the train) to the charming village of Antibes and walk the Cap d’Antibes coastal path for jaw-dropping sea views.
Pedal over to Villefranche-sur-Mer for a lazy lunch by the harbor.
Or catch the train to Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, walk the Cap, and soak up the sun on one of its beaches (fair warning: the nicest one is currently under construction).
We didn’t make it to Cannes or Grasse this trip, mostly because we plan to be there next year, but both are easy day trips. Cannes for the glitzy seaside Croisette, Grasse for its perfume heritage.
bateau bar
On the water
Charter a small boat from Glisse Évasion in Villefranche-sur-Mer or from Beaulieu-sur-Mer for a day of blissful bobbing on the Mediterranean. Pack a floaty, snorkel gear, and a bottle of rosé. Or just wait for the bateau bar to pull up.
Hill towns
The hilltop villages along the Corniche, like Èze or La Turbie, are gorgeous detours (we skipped them this time, but they’re well worth a visit if you have the time).
scenes from Nice
In Nice itself
Walk up to the Cascade du Château (go before 8 p.m.—sunset is lovely, but morning with the sun at your back is even better).
Stroll the Cours Saleya market, browse the flower stalls, and grab a fresh-squeezed juice and a socca from a vendor.
Wander the Old Town’s narrow lanes, pop into galleries, and get lost in the pastel maze.
Check out the Port, Bonapart neighborhood, and Rue Masena.
Stroll the Promenade des Anglais, especially lovely at night.
Museums
Take in Musée Picasso in Antibes, Musée Matisse in Nice, or Musée Renoir in Cagnes-sur-Mer (among others). We didn’t, but it was comforting knowing they were there if we felt inspired.
cuisine de Nice
Eat and drink
First, coffee. La Claque is your spot for a perfect flat white and some creative alternatives like their olive oil latte.
For dinner in Vieux Nice, Comptoir du Marché (make a res) serves excellent bistro fare, while Le Panier (res) offers a five-course “surprise” menu well worth surrendering control for. Le Petit Lascaris, tucked into a tiny alley, plates up delicious Niçoise classics. Stop next door at Coco Bar for a cocktail afterward.
For moules, La Voglia is always buzzing. We asked to wait at the bar instead of in line, and they happily complied, holding our place for us. Bocca Nissa (res) delivers a trendy rooftop vibe, and Peixes shines with fresh ceviche, though the hostess leaves something to be desired.
Oka, conveniently at our doorstep, surprised us with exceptional Asian fusion, while Nice Sunset made a friendly stop for sea views and a solid burger.
For a classic bouillabaisse with harbor views, try Le Bistro du Port.
In the Bonaparte neighborhood, Chez Papa serves elegant takes on Niçoise dishes.
For seafront drinks, splurge at the Negresco’s storied bar, or linger over a chic lunch at their beach club, or at Castel Beach Club down the promenade.
Head to Shapko for after-hours drinks and live music. For an aggressive club experience, check out Klubber, and please let us know what it’s all about. We spent far too long debating the myth of a place that seems to eject its patrons around the crack of noon, pretty much onto our doorstep.
Beach lounging
Claim a sunbed at Beau Rivage (arrive at 10 a.m. or after 3 p.m. to secure your spot). Or head to the public beach with water shoes, an umbrella, and a good book.
Staying active
Book a spin class at Amplify to offset all the croissants and glace. Or join the locals swimming laps in the sea.
And so it ends
So we leave Charlotte’s happy place in the wee hours of the morning, passing the club kids shifting from one spot to another, getting ready to watch the sun rise. We’re content. We’re significantly more tanned than intended and dreading the judgment of our dermatologist. We’re excited to return to California and reunite with friends and family. Doug is looking forward to a proper Martini, James Bond style. Charlotte is looking forward to an exercise class in a language she can understand.
But there’s a definite sadness in closing out this Nomad Year+. It’s the kind of bittersweet ending where you’re grateful for every chapter, happy to have closed the last page, but also wish you could read it again for the first time.
We still have several stops we haven’t had time to write about, so there are more posts to come. And while our future travels won’t immediately stretch on for a full year, they’re far from over. Stay tuned!
