I’m realising that much of this feels like school trip reporting – we did this, then we went there, then we did this and then we went to sleep. It has been a bit like that but I hope I’ll be able to write something more reflective once I’ve laid out the bones here.
Day 7 was Sunday. This seems to have made the streets of Nice more busy, especially it being mid-August, what with sunday-trading being a mortal sin ‘n’all (it turns out – I saw it on the telly, I’m not going to research it further, find your own link, I’m on holiday – that this weekend was the beginning of sunday trading)
We started with the (predictable but still severe) disappointment that is le petit dejeuner – particularly severe given that I don’t eat bread or croissants or butter or jam and so was restricted to coffee. So I watched Ewan chew his way through a baguette and then it was back to the handy supermarket.
I’m having trouble now remembering. The morning was spent on the beach – I went for a swim and spent the rest of the time, really not looking at topless women, no really trying not to look, or at least, not to stare – trouble is, every time you look somewhere else, a new one wiggles into place. For example, the amply-proportioned lady underneath the red striped parasol in this picture promptly sat up just after I put my camera away.
The afternoon and evening consisted of food and catching up in my feed reader and going for another walk and some crap french telly in our room. Oh and getting bitten by fleas in the room too. Thanks.
Ah yes, I remember, the other thing was I went over to the train station to book the tickets and found that it being a Monday in mid August when lots of people are going back to work and school, there were no places on the train I’d wanted to get to Paris. In fact there were no places on any direct train to Paris on Monday. Or any obvious indirect routes. So I had to (well actually I was quite pleased to, it made for a nice treat after our hotel experience) get an upgrade to first class on a TGV from Marseille and we’d have to get the slow local train there first. I booked the Eurostar tickets back to London at the same time – it started to feel like we were near the end.
So I got out of step with this and now I’m trying to catch up all at once.
This was the day we left Milan for Nice. So, although the longest journey was behind us (Vienna to Milan) it was still difficult to get up and get on another train for hours especially since neither of us had been to Milan before and we’d arrived in the dark the night before. But we did. We walked down to the square in front of the Duomo first of all, so that we at least felt we’d gotten a feel for that old bit of the city. This was our first proper sunshine too but it was comfortable in the morning air.
We got the metro to the central station and then I spent an annoying 30 minutes queuing to try to make a reservation on a train only to be told that I couldn’t get one and should just get on the train. This is an annoyingly vague aspect of the interrail system, whether you have to reserve or not and how much extra that costs. I hope to write something up about that later.
Stazione Centrale has recently been refurbished and is an amazing sight – I’m guessing from the grubby bits that aren’t quite finished yet that it had become pretty poor, but maybe someone else here knows for sure.
So we just went and sat on the train and waited for the people to come along who obviously *had* booked those seats and then we sat in the corridor seats until the train started and then I went for a little walk and found, that although there were lots of other people stan ding around, there were a couple of seats in a compartment a couple of coaches away so we moved in there for the duration (still nervous at every stop that someone was going to come and take “our” seats)
Basically the journey was pretty (and not so pretty) northern italian countryside down to Genoa and then along the Cote D’Azur in and out of tunnels, past little coves of blue water and exclusive looking houses perched on clifftops.
Nobody checked our ticket all the way.
Arrived in Nice OK, but walked completely the wrong way to find the hotel so spent half an hour sweating back again with suitcases. Our hotel was not the cleanest or best equipped (a comparison of each hotel is also on my to do list) and of course the a/c wasn’t working properly but there was a supermarket next door where we could get a quick food fix before taking a walk down to the beach (about 10 minutes) to see what there was to see. Then we both agreed it was time to just crumble into bed (once I’d just gotten the wifi working).
I didn’t get much sleep though because we had to have the window open occasionally to deal with the heat but Nice is not a quiet place on a Saturday night.
No pics yet because my phone’s running out of juice and there’s only wifi down in the hotel restaurant.
A train day today (as is tomorrow) as it takes a surprising 9 hours to get direct from Berlin to Vienna – those of you who, like me have a rudimentary grasp of geography south or east of Calais, might have imagined that Germany and Austria were right next to each other so it was probably a bit like London to Cardiff – well it is except London to Cardiff via Edinburgh.
Thankfully, the Northern Czech countryside between the border and Prague is as stunning as South Wales (yes, that’s a compliiment!)
Otherwise until Prague, in our compartment we had a German emo couple and German chap with an oriental girlfriend who couldn’t do anything for herself, a noisy Czech family with us from somewhere unprounounceable in the middle down to the still unpronounceable but memorable Brno in the south. And then a couple of female scandi navian interrailers from Brno down to Vienna.
I was not in the boy’s good books when we found that I’d chosen the hotel for it’s proximity to the Mitte station and we came into the Sud and because I hadn’t looked at the map properly, I decided it was walkable. I won him back with a large doner kebab.
I’ve also promised him a taxi when we arrive in Milan tomorrow – little does he know what Italian driving is like…
Tomorrow is our longest single journey door to door though it includes an hour waiting for a connection in Innsbruck – we leave at 9.40 in the morning and don’t get there until 8.35pm.
So we’ve been as far east as we’re going to go, now we’re heading south west. And no I haven’t published the full itinerary yet, I like to keep you on your toes.