It’s Friday, I’m avoiding working. So 70 more images from France.
I’m sitting on the balcony of my hotel room about 7 floors above the Mediterranean Sea looking out at the coast line wrapping around the face of Nice. About three miles down is the airport, so as I sit here typing into my iPhone I get to watch planes take off every few minutes, and bank gently out and away to far off destinations.
I have just a few goals besides warming this deck chair while I am here. 1. Eat at a few of the places chef Michael Smith suggested I go to. 2. Take the train to Monaco and go to the casino for a round of Roulette and a cocktail at the bar. 3. The Mattise museum which my friend Rachel suggested. Aside from that it’s pretty much rest, relax, and burn through 16 more gigs of memory in one of my cameras.
Last night in St. Remey we ate at a place named XA. if you are ever there, I suggest you go. This was one of the best meals I have had in France hands down. Excelent preparation, and presentation of the food. Perfect pairing with a locally vinted wine, that was absolutely superb. A chocolate desert that was pure heaven, and to finish a digestive of house made mint liquor. XA set the bar pretty high, so the places chef Smith suggested better step up. ( not that I have any doubts that they will )
The highlight of the drive down from St. Remey today was this, at the first toll booth while waiting to get our ticket a yellow Enzo Ferrari pulled up to the slot next to us and used the electronic pass to just blow on through. While still waiting a red Porsche Carrera GT, pulled through using the same electronic pass. As we took our ticket and pulled out in our Alfa Romeo Brera Coupe, feeling shamed by auto inferiority ( and the Brera Coupe is not a bad car ), the Ferarri and Porsche excelerated into hyper-drive in some hell bent race for the south of France. I swear I heard the Porsche driver yell “eat our dust”, to the rest of us as they pulled away in the left lanes north of San Tropé.
So, we are on our way to France, but right now I’m sitting in a sushi bar at the Atlanta airport drinking an Old Fashioned. We came here because the word on the street was that they have electrical outlets here. They do not, but that doesn’t surprise me since I haven’t been able to find a single wall outlet in this airport in both terminal A and E. Oh well, the bourbon is tasty, and I’m on vacation.