Sometimes, when I wake up for the first time in a new place, I don’t completely remember where I am. Then I open the curtains, look outside, and remember. In this case, I opened the curtains to see palm trees, the blue Mediterranean sea sparkling in the morning sun, and the Promenade des Anglais. “Oh yeah – we’re in Nice!”
The British Invasion
Nice is indeed a beautiful place. That’s what British aristocrats thought, too, when they “discovered” Nice in the 18th century. A British invasion of well-to-do visitors followed, as Nice became THE place to spend the chilly and damp English winter.
It’s easy to see how the British aristocracy would love to trade the cold and damp weather for the warm Mediterranean sun. They’re still here, too. We’ve been hearing British accents ever since we stepped off the plane.
Many British citizens settled here, at least for the winter months. In the 1820’s, two years of terrible weather devastated the farming-based French economy. Down-and-out people poured into Nice, looking for work.
An English clergyman named Lewis Ray came up with the idea to create jobs by employing people to build a walkway along the beach. He secured funds from local English residents and saw the project through.
La Promenade des Anglais
The City of Nice christened the walkway “La Promenade des Anglais,” (The English Walkway). They expanded the promenade multiple times, and today it’s a 4-mile long, palm tree-lined coastal walking path.
A mix of impressive-looking buildings lies on the street side of the Promenade des Anglais. The beach and the “Baie des Anges,” (Bay of the Angels), lies on the other side. It’s a perfect place to take a walk and soak up the atmosphere of the place.
The scenery along the beach here isn’t like the scenery at beaches back home. The blue water is spectacular. The buildings that line the coast make for quite an attractive view. The sun worshippers lying on the beach, however, not so much.
The girls are fine. Tops are optional. Quite a few girls don’t seem to notice that they’re missing theirs. If it doesn’t bother them, then it doesn’t bother me. Yes, I’m definitely OK with that.
I Forgot to Pack the Speedos
The guys are another story. Apparently, there’s a shortage of men’s swimsuit material in this part of the world. The general rule seems to be — the older the fellow, the smaller the trunks. And they’re pretty small to begin with, even on the younger guys.
Most of the guys on the beach here are rather advanced in age. Back home, as we grow older, we tend to think of our bodies as being less attractive than they used to be. That doesn’t seem to be the case here, at least for the deeply-tanned older set on the beach.
Here in Nice, the older generation of bronzed beach dudes wearing Speedos strut around on the beach like roosters. Very little is left to the imagination. Too little, in my humble opinion. But perhaps that’s the whole idea. I don’t know. I’m new here.
A better option for those of us unaccustomed to such sights is to look towards the impressive buildings lining the Promenade des Anglais. One of the most eye-catching of these is the Hotel Negresco. It’s the one with the pink dome pointing up to the sky. You can’t miss it.
The Hotel Negresco
The hotel was the brainchild of the son of a Romanian innkeeper named Negrescu. He was educated in Paris, relocated to Nice, and became a director of Nice’s then-famous Municipal Casino.
His idea was to build a hotel that would attract the rich and famous to Nice and especially to the casino. He secured funding, managed the project, and pulled it off. The hotel opened in 1913, during the “Belle Epoque,” when life in France was très belle, especially if you were super riche.
I wanted to see what it looked like inside, so we took a detour from the Promenade. We’ve been to a few hotsy-totsy places in our travels, but the Negresco is over-the-top hotsy-totsy. It has an aura about it. (An unfamiliar aura).
As we approached the entrance to the lobby, my wallet started trembling in my pocket, all on its own. I thought my phone was vibrating, but it was my wallet.
The lobby was lit by a chandelier that was as big as a car. I found out later that it’s a Baccarat crystal chandelier. Of course it is!
Hotel employees were dressed like the Queen’s Guards. Sandy-footed rich tots ran from the beach straight into the lobby while I worried about soiling the red carpet with my unpolished shoes.
Lunch is served on a terrace overlooking the Negresco’s private beach. We didn’t eat there, though. It’s just too embarrassing when I have to use two credit cards to pay so I don’t trip a credit limit. I hate when that happens. Especially at lunch!
To be Continued…
