Nice

A 5 hour train ride southeast of Paris landed us in Nice around 10 P.M. If I had not been absolutely sure we were in France I would have never believed it. Show me a postcard of Nice, tell me this is France, I'd call you a moron. The downtown area looked like Daytona Beach. Gobs of neon, hole in the wall grease joints, litter, etc. Exhausted and somewhat shell shocked we debated on waiting for the bus, but couldn't make heads or tails of the public transit system. After a rest on a vandalized bench and a Clif bar, we strapped on our packs and make our way to our hostel on top of the hill, on foot.

The hostel (Villa St. Exupery, an homage to "The Little Prince") ended up being the highlight of our stay. Cheap drinks, good people, and long nights looking out over nice from the top of our perch. The kitchen was open to those who wanted to cook themselves, so Derek and I cooked up a little something, uncorked a bottle of wine, and felt right at home.

Everyone we met highly recommended seeing the areas around Nice (Monaco, Cap D'ail) so we looked at our schedule and decided to stay for an extra night. It didn't take much to convince us.