My daughter and I have been in Nice since Saturday and are soaking in the life here. She studied French for 2 years in high school and I seem to have forgotten everything I ever knew. I’ve been trying so hard to learn Italian the past year or so that I get it all mixed up and can’t remember anything. But I still have plenty of time. The workshops don’t begin for a few days and I’m here until the end of the month.
We have an absolutely beautiful - tiny- apartment right on the Promenade des Anglais with a very private patio. However, it is a bit noisy. The Promenade is much busier than I remember it 33 years ago! For any of you that might be considering coming to Nice, I can’t recommend Nice Pebbles highly enough. They are a wonderful booking agency out of the UK.
Some of you may have seen our Mother’s Day photo my daughter took. She’s been documenting every meal. So mostly we’ve been walking and eating. But I did look to see if there were any yarn shops here and we found La Droguerie yesterday. My phone camera lens must have had lotion (very intense sun here) or something on it, so my photos are not very sharp. You might want to check out this blog post for better shots, but here are a couple just for you:
It was a fun store that carried ribbons, beads, buttons, feathers (photo below) and other embellishment treats. It brought to mind Florilegium in Parkville, MO- recently moved to Weston. In remembering, I realized that I had taken lots of beautiful photos inside that shop and I was all ready this morning to write a rave review with lots of interior shots - but alas, they are all on another computer at home. So another time.
We’re both the carefree traveller type: no schedule, no plans, just go with the moment. The trip could have easily taken the wrong turn this morning, though, when my daughter received word that Thea, her cat, was missing and had been since the night before. Can you imagine? Small garbage bag full of wet tissues later, we had good news. At 2am in Indiana, she instructed her partner to grab a can of tuna and walk to a specific corner spot outside the apartment, sit quietly and call Thea’s name in just the right tone, waiting to open the tuna can so she could hear it. Worked like a charm. Within moments, Thea was safe inside. Somehow she knew right where she was. Happy ending.
Next week I'll be writing from Provence.
More on knitting then...