Evan and I had one last little lunch before I bid him good day and headed to the airport.
The hotel's keycards were very artsy.
Airport.
Flying into Casablanca was a breeze. Flying out of Marrakesh was a nightmare. The computers were down at immigration, and it was madness. At one point one of the security line things either broke or was taken down and there was a mass stampede over to the immigration officer's windows. I wasn't super worried about missing my plane though because everyone was in this mess, and I figured the plane would be so devoid of passengers that it would just wait. It did. While in line I had a nice conversation with an Italian couple now living in Barcelona.
I'm gonna be straight with you. I hadn't even heard of Nice, France before I started doing research for this trip. Really the only reason I'm here is that I wanted to visit Monaco and Nice's airport is the closest. And no big deal, but Monaco will be my 50TH FRIGGIN COUNTRY. Not. a big. deal.
Nice is the capital of the French Riviera. That may sound fancy, and I suppose it is, but once again I am here during the off season. It's cold, and the Hotel Solara seems to only have one or two other guests.
My hotel is pretty humble but it's only like 50 euro a night, and it's very well placed. There are lots of touristy restaurants around but not many tourists. I popped into one and in my mind there was no question what I would order: the Niçoise salad. This salad is where fresh breath goes to die. Its pungent ingredients include: onions, olives, hard boiled eggs, tuna, and anchovies. I'm glad I tried it but I won't be ordering another one. I ordered an aperitif beforehand (I'm not a barbarian). It was a kir, which is a white wine sweetened with fruit syrup.
It was pretty late and I was pretty tired but I went on a little stroll anyway.
The world thinks the French are cool, but the French think Springfield is cool. Remember that.
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