It’s a beautiful fall day in the South of France – a perfect day for a drive along the coast. We’re going to head out from our home base in Nice, drive east towards Italy, and make stops at Eze and Monaco. You’ve never heard of Eze? It rhymes with “Pez.” C’mon. Let’s go pay a visit to Eze.
Heading up the coast from our hotel near the Promenade des Anglais, we rounded a rocky point to see the harbor at Nice. We hadn’t seen this part of Nice yet. It looked like a great place to come back to, hang out, and find a place to have dinner tonight. Let’s make a note of that.
The drive along Avenue Bella Vista is indeed bella. (The street name gives away the Italian roots of this area). Such a nice day. It was almost too soon when we arrived at the little enclave of Eze.
A Visit to Eze
Eze isn’t a normal town, really, at least to a visitor. It’s more like a storybook village. It’s so much like a storybook village that Walt Disney liked to come here, hang out, and make sketches of the surroundings for use in future animations.
Eze is a warren of curvy cobblestone pathways, interesting shops and buildings, and scenic views. The buildings are just as you’d imagine them to be in a fairy tale. But these are real buildings built by people who lived here hundreds of years ago.
The village is perched high on a cliff, 1,400 feet above the Mediterranean Sea. The view is spectacular. It’s not only beautiful, but it’s the perfect location to spot enemies coming your way by sea.
Eze Back in the Day
Civilization here goes back at least as far as the Phoenicians, who named the city after their version of the Egyptian goddess, Isis. Thousands of years after the Phoenicians, the ancient Greeks settled here.
One day a British fellow discovered a cache of ornate, 3rd century BC ceremonial bowls at Eze. But you won’t see any of them here. They’re in a museum in London. Finders-keepers, I suppose.
Today, Eze is full of shops, galleries, and restaurants nestled into rock walls. You can walk up and down cobblestone paths here until your legs beg for mercy. There’s a new view of the Mediterranean coastline around every corner.
We did our fair share of wandering around the meandering through the Ezian pathways. One thing’s for sure — you’d better have good walking shoes. The pathways are in good shape, but there’s a lot of climbing and descending – even if you avoid the stairways.
Just like Saint Paul de Vence yesterday, this is one of those places that attracts artists and creative types. Is it the woo-woo energy that draws them here like moths to a flame that the rest of us can’t see? Or is it the steady flow of tourists with euros to spend? Let’s say it’s the special woo-woo energy of the place.
One of the more interesting shops, for me, at least, was the Fragonard boutique at the bottom of the hill. Fragonard is one of the “old-line” French perfume houses. Who knew? Not me – that’s for sure.
This is Perfume Country
The Fragonard salesperson gave us a mini-course in perfumery. It turns out that this is perfume country. There’s a Fragonard factory not far from here, and another one down the road in the city of Grasse.
This whole region of Provence — and the nearby city of Grasse, in particular — is considered the world capital of perfume making. Paris is probably the world capital of perfume buying, but down here is where the stuff is made.
Maybe you’ve seen pictures showing rows of lavender that grow like crazy in this region. Lavender, roses, and other “scenty” things are grown here and used to make perfume.
Perfume makers make the bases for perfumes the same way a distiller makes alcohol. They put flowers on a tray in a big enclosed kettle of water, then light a fire underneath. They capture the steam, now infused with scent molecules, and extract the concentrated output.
Punny You Should Say That
“Eze” is a very punny word. A person with less self-control than I could make puns with it all day long. When someone’s traveling companion says, “That’s enough!”, they might say something dumb like “Hey – take it Eze-y!”
I know – terrible. I had shown great pun restraint during our visit to Eze, so I figured I had one or two to spend. When we got in the car and prepared to leave, I turned to my perfumed, extra-nice smelling Better Half and said, “Eze you Eze, or Eze you ain’t my baby?”
So much for self-control.
To be continued…
Ref: “Is You Is, or Is You Ain’t My Baby?”, by Louis Jordan, 1943.
