We took today a little easy. We got up and ready for a walking tour in the morning, but Mom’s stomach wasn’t feeling the best, so once we got to the meeting place, she went back to our lodging, and I completed the tour.

I’ve done a walking tour of Nice before– way back in 2010. I don’t remember much of it, but enough has happened in the last 13 years to keep things fresh. There were a few highlights for me: The park on top of Castle Hill was shady, cool, and relatively quiet. It offered a gorgeous view of the town, and a welcome escape from the constant commotion that has been getting under our skin. They also pointed out a church nearby, that has a bar run by the church as a way to collect donations. The market in the old-town was also pretty fun. Filled with fresh fruits, veggies, meats, cheese, and gifts, it was open, and somewhat relaxing.

I met back with Mom, who had been feeling better. We decided against continuing on to Cinque Terre, as a 5 hour train ride to an even hotter and potentially more crowded area seemed daunting. Instead, we settled on Bordeaux, and began unmaking, and then making plans. A few bucks lost here and there, but we’re hopeful that it is worth it.

After getting everything straightened out, I took Mom back out to the spots that she had missed. We grabbed some socca– a chickpea / omelette / street food that’s all the rage here. We made it up the hill, and saw the ongoing architectural dig- The foundation of an old abbey had been found on the hill. We watched some youths play Boules.

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From there, we enjoyed the cooler evening air. I shopped for Chartreuse, while Mom shopped for a bag to replace her antique bag she had from college that was tearing at the seams.

I had to return the car to the rental agency, so I left mom to do some planning for tomorrow. Once that was done, we went out to grab some pizza. Mine was lardons, honey, herbs de provence, and some kind of cheese, and mom chose the Niçoise, which was anchovies and olives.

We went to the beach while they were preparing it. The beach near the Promenade Des Anglais was not sand, but smooth stones. If you ask me, it feels somewhere between a tickle and a massage. Mom said it hurt.

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We returned to the pizzeria, picked it up, headed home, and finished our evening with a bottle of wine and a movie.