We’ve already established that France is the most visited country on earth and, while many of those visitors head for Paris, Nice as the city with the fifth largest population in France is often on the agenda of those all-important visitors. Of course, Nice has been a tourist hotspot for hundreds of years but has managed to maintain its charm and unique vibe to become a year round destination, largely thanks to its mild climate – never too cold in winter and never too hot in summer.
Stroll along the Promenade des Anglais
The Promenade des Anglais during Paris-Nice 2016
My earlier post on the history of Nice established that it began life as a winter resort for English aristocratic families in 18th century who raised funds in 1822 for the Promenade des Anglais which stretches for 8km (5 miles) along the city’s gorgeous seafront. So it’s an ideal spot to soak up the sun, people watch, walk, bike or skate along, enjoying its many attractions which includes lots of bars and restaurants, and arguably offers the best views in the entire city.
Wander round Place Massena and Promenade du Paillon
Place Massena provides a bridge between the new and old towns. It’s Nice’s largest square and the site for street performances, Carnival de Nice, jazz festivals and so on. It also beautifully showcases Nice’s rich history and heritage. If you’re visiting Place Massena at night, watch out for the lights in the statues representing the 7 continents as they change colour.
From Place Massena head into the Promenade du Paillon, a 12-hectacre urban park which connects the Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art to the sea. This wonderful green space is organised into five continents, with samples of flowers and trees from each one. One of its major attractions is the giant water mirror, a large lake equipped with water jets, which kids love!
Go up Castle Hill
Castle Hill towers above the Old Town and is the site of the ruins of Chateau de Nice. It’s one of the best places to visit because of the panoramic views of Promenade des Anglais, Bais des Anges, Port de Nice, indeed the entire city. Climbing the stairs takes 10-15 minutes or you can take the lift. If you’re there at noon, be prepared for the cannon booming on the dot of midday – it’s so loud, it will make you jump!
Explore the Vieille Ville (Old Town)
A great place to wander around, soaking up its medieval vibe. You can clearly see and feel the Italian influence as this area was part of the Kingdom of Savoy before returning to France in 1860. The narrow streets are colourful and labyrinthine, packed with interesting shops, plenty of bars and restaurants and well-known spots like Place Rossetti, Cathedrale Sainte-Reparate and the Cours Saleya Markets.
Visit Cathedrale Sainte-Reparate
The oldest and most ornate cathedral in Nice is Cathedrale Sainte-Reparate, which contains many artefacts of Saint Reparata, a 15-year-old martyr. Over the centuries the cathedral has gone through many changes with Baroque and Latin styles incorporated in its construction. Inside, there are 10 small chapels dedicated to other saints.
Shop at Cours Saleya Markets
No place in Vieille Ville is as vibrant and as integral to its identity as the Cours Saleya Markets which operate daily in various guises. There’s been a flower market here since 1897. Hemmed in by fine buildings and teaming with visitors, the Cours hosts markets every day. Tuesday to Sunday mornings you’ll find a flower, fruit and vegetable market while Monday showcases its antiques market. During the summer months, you’ll also find various gift stalls to browse in the evenings.
But this isn’t Nice’s only market. Aside from its fish one on the other side of the Old Town and the permanent antiques one (Marché des Puces) opposite the port, there’s also a bustling food market held on Tuesday to Sunday mornings in the Place de la Libération, near the old Gare du Sud.
Tour the Cathédrale Orthodoxe Saint-Nicolas de Nice
The largest Eastern Orthodox cathedral in Western Europe can be found in Nice. Saint Nicholas Orthodox Cathedral, relatively recently transferred back to the Russian State, was originally built for Tsar Aleksandr II and the Russian community residing in Nice. The tsar fell in love with Nice’s beautiful climate and later died here. I was fortunate to attend a christening here some years ago – a fascinating experience.
This is a very small selection of the places I enjoy visiting in Nice. There are more parks, more churches, much more of the Old Town and Castle Hill to see and don’t get me started on our magnificent museums. Better still, come and see for yourself!
It occurred to me that before writing about my favourite places in Nice I should share with you my potted version of its long, interesting history. So here goes.
Introduction
Superbly set on nothing less than the Bay of Angels, Nice has a gleam and sparkle like no other city in France. No one can resist its lively old town squeezed between promontory and sea, its markets blazing with colour, the glittering tiled domes and creamy patisserie of 19th century hotels and villas, the immaculate exotic gardens, and the famous voluptuous curve of the beach and palm fringed Promenade des Anglais. It’s the one town on the Cote d’Azur that doesn’t seem to need tourists, the one that stays open throughout the winter. You could come here for the food alone, a seductive melange of the best of France and Italy; you haven’t really had ravioli until you tuck into a plate in Nice, where it was invented.
The capital of the department of Alpes-Maritimes and France’s fifth-largest city, Nice is also the most visited French city after Paris. The English have been coming for well over 200 years, back when “Nizza la Bella” still belonged to Savoy, and Russian Tsarinas and Grand Dukes fleeing winter’s blasts weren’t far behind. The presence of so many rich, idle foreigners who stayed for months at a time formed a large part of the city’s character: corruption, reactionary politics and organised crime are part of the famous salade niçois, along with a high density of apricot poodles sporting the same hairstyles as their owners. But Nice also has a football team, a university, many museums, the brilliant light so-beloved of Matisse and a genuine identity as a city: rough, affable and informal.
Its History
Nice has long been a property hot spot. People have been taking advantage of its prime real estate for many, many years. 400,000 BC, hunters who tracked mammoth and frequented the caves of Terra Amata (now the site of Boulevard Carnot, to the east of the Port) learned how to make fire to BBQ their prey and founded the world’s first take-away – McMammoth’s. Indeed, the first human remains dating from c 1,000,000 BC were found up the road in Menton leading one to conclude that the Cote d’Azur was indeed the Garden of Eden, as only a French woman would have the figure and chutzpah to wear a fig leaf. And, contrary to popular belief, she didn’t want the apple to tempt Adam; she needed it to make a tarte tatin.
Around 1,000 BC, the Ligurians were the first to settle here permanently, constructing their settlement at the mouth of the Paillon River and on the hill overlooking the valley. Greeks from Marseille, (the Massaliotes) founded a commercial colony near the seaside settlement and named it Nikaia, literally “giver of victory”. The beginnings of the new town were established on the slopes of the Colline du Chateau, overlooking and between the present old town and port. At this time, Nice was a small stronghold, with a few hundred inhabitants, mainly merchants, under the authority of magistrates nominated by Marseilles.
Beset by Ligurian pirates, the Nikaians (foolishly) asked the Romans for aid. The Romans duly came, and stayed. But they preferred to set up camp on the hilltop because it was closer to the Via Julia Augusta, which linked Nice to Vintimille. They named this town Cemenelum (modern Cimiez) and made it the capital of the province of Alpes Maritimes. By 3rd century AD, Cemenelum had 20,000 inhabitants and three thermal baths. The city was a military enclave intended to supervise and control this accident-prone and wild country. But the disorganisation of the empire, the barbarian invasions and the absence of fortifications led to a preference for the steep hills of Greek Nikaia. By 6th century AD, Cemenelum had collapsed along with the rest of the Roman Empire and became a mere neighbourhood of what was later to become the city of Nice.
While almost no traces of the Massaliotes remain, the Romans left many reminders. Not just the afore-mentioned Via Julia Augusta, but also the Trophée d’Auguste. It’s a magnificent construction with four well-preserved columns, which offers a great panorama at La Turbie and symbolises the submission of the Alpine peoples to Roman rule in 14 BC. Emperor Auguste can also be credited with setting up the region’s first real administrative organisation. Finally, the most manifest remains of the Roman presence in Nice are the well-preserved Roman amphitheatres and baths around the site of Cimiez’s Archeological Museum.
Meanwhile, Greek Nikaia struggled on, shaken by the family rivalries of its successive nobility, exhausted by the multiple invasions of the Goths, Francs, Saxons and Saracens which ravaged Nice and pillaged the coast for 150 or so years. It was only in 972 AD that Guillaume, the Compte de Provence, managed to rout them. The commercial activity of the lower town intensified around the cathedral on the Colline du Chateau and in 1176 the first town charter was drawn up.
The creation of the port of Villefranche [sur Mer] made the coast safer and encouraged maritime exchanges. Nice became much sought after by the Italian States, notably Genoa and Pisa. By the 1340s, with a population of 13,000, Nice was the third city in Provence after Marseille and Arles. The city’s coat of arms had an eagle’s head on it, looking to the left, to France.
On the death of Queen Jeanne of Provence, rivalries worsened, the Black Death and civil wars soon cut it down in size, and in 1388 the city’s leaders voted to hitch their wagon to a brighter star than Louis d’Anjou and pledged allegiance to Armadeus III, Count of Savoy. The eagle was redrawn to look right towards Italy.
In 1543, the Turkish fleet, aided by the French troops of King Francois I, tried in vain to reconquer the city. Local washerwoman turned symbolic figure Catherine Ségurane used a particularly unusual form of defence. Legend has it that she lashed out with a carpet beater to send them running while showing them her very ample, bare derrière!
The Savoys fortified Nice and it grew rich trading with Italy and 17th century saw the expansion of Nice outside its medieval walls, and in 1696 and 1705 came the first of several French interludes that punctuated Savoy rule; interludes which Louis XIV took advantage of to blow up the city’s fortifications. In 1713, the town again retreated to the protection of the King of Savoy, who had also become King of Sardinia.
Apollo Fountain in Place Massena behind which lies the Old Town
The 17th century also witnessed the flourishing of baroque art in Nice. Façades were painted in warm reds and yellows, ochre and burnt sienna; doorways and window sills were given contrasting colours and the woodwork was painted in cold blues and greens. The restoration of the façades over the last few decades has returned Nice to her former baroque glory. Other striking examples of this artistic tradition are the churches of the old town, such as Cathédrale Sainte-Réparate.
Interior of Cathédrale Sainte-Réparate
Between the French Revolution and the Empire (1792-1814), the Alpes-Maritimes region was created and annexed to France. By the same token, Nice was also returned to the French, but this time with the assent of the people.
With the fall of Napoleon, Nice again came under the sway of Sardinia, but her language and culture distanced her further and further from Italy. On the 24th March 1860, Napoleon III and Victor-Emmanuel II, King of Sardinia, agreed that Nice would be handed over to France once and for all, a decision that met with universal approval from its inhabitants. A remarkable economic boom ensued; roads were built, the railway arrived, and the population underwent explosive growth.
At the same time, winter tourism, which had started to develop in the mid-1700s with the arrival of the British aristocracy, gathered ground. Even though it took at least two weeks to reach Nice from Calais, by 1787 there were enough Brits wintering here to support a casino, an English theatre, an estate agent and a newspaper. In 1830, when a frost killed all the orange trees, the English community raised funds to give the unemployed jobs: building a seafront promenade along the Baie des Anges known to this day as the Promenade des Anglais.
Promenade des Anglais during Paris-Nice bike race
The latter part of the 19th century and the run up to the First World War was Nice’s heyday, to which the prolific and luxurious belle époque residences attest. It really was the playground of the rich and famous.
The early 20th century was deeply marked by the First World War and the Rural Exodus. Although southern France saw no action in WWI, soldiers were conscripted from the region and many lives were lost. In the 1920s the region once more became a mecca for artists and writers (including Ernest Hemingway, F Scott Fitzgerald, Aldous Huxley and Thomas Mann). The luxurious Train Bleu made its first run from Calais, via Paris, to the Côte d’Azur in 1922.
Le Train Bleu restaurant at Gare de Lyon, Paris, decorated with scenes from south of France
Nice was included in the ‘free’ Vichy France zone during the first part of WWII, and became a safe haven from war-torn occupied France. Vichy France was invaded by Nazi Germany in November 1942, and Nice was occupied by the Italians. Allied forces landed on the Côte d’Azur in August 1944, and the region was liberated. It didn’t take Nice long to bounce back, and the bohemian jet set soon returned. The resort is now an all year round holiday spot and tourism is a vital and fundamental part of the local economy, a fact borne out by the airport (the second largest in France), and the vast array of hotels, holiday homes and yachts.
I took this photograph of the Hotel Negresco out of the side window of the car on a trip back from Nice in September. This magnificent overblown wedding-cake style, belle-époque building, instantly recognisable by its pink domed roof, stands proudly on the Promenade des Anglais. The hotel celebrated its centennial in 2013. You can see five centuries of French history in the hotel’s art and furnishings, where portraits of Kings and Queens rub shoulders with more contemporary works by Sosno, Dali, Gruau, Moretti and Nike de Saint Phalle.
But what makes this iconic building even more special is its fascinating history. Built by Bucharest-born Henri Negrescou, who’d carved out a brilliant career within the hospitality sector. His vision was for a fabulous palace to attract the great and the good. Sadly, during WWI, the hotel was temporarily converted into a hospital which led to Negrescou’s financial downfall.
The hotel was sold to a Belgian company and then acquired by a Breton butcher, but it wasn’t until 1957 that it regained its former glory after M. Mesnage spent eight years renovating it together with his daughter Jeanne and her husband Paul Augier.
The current and sole proprietor, since the death of her husband in 1995, is the charismatic Mme. Jeanne Augier, an animal activist (the Negresco is a pet-friendly hotel) and art collector who has taken the hotel to new heights. She still lives in a private apartment on the top floor of the hotel with her two dogs and continues enriching the hotel with the incredible art collection that she has procured over the years.
Next out of the bag is a photograph of the Promenade des Anglais taken in early March on the last day of the Paris-Nice race. I’ve chosen it in memory of all those who were injured or lost their lives there in a senseless act of violence on Bastille Day that surely wouldn’t have been countenanced by anyone’s god.
The Promenade des Anglais during Paris-Nice 2016
The Promenade stretches along the seafront of Nice between the beach and the road and is always bustling, not just with people strolling in the sunshine but also dog-walkers, joggers, cyclists, in-line skaters and sightseers, many of whom pause on bright blue chairs to enjoy the azure sea in the Baie des Anges. The road was financed by the English and the City of Nice in the late 18th century largely to provide work for the unemployed, hence the name.
The sun was shining, my bike was calling but my programme said “rest”. I couldn’t do it. Having missed yesterday’s ride, my beloved and I sought to replicate it today. We made good time, despite heavy traffic. It took us two hours to ride to Menton where we took the left hand turn up to Ste Agnes, a 9km, 9% climb with stunning views. It took me exactly an hour to climb the Col de la Madone.
I have only done this once before and that was two years ago. I arrived at the pointage at 11:10am to discover it was closed. Nul points, no refreshments; I almost wept. My girlfriend nearly suffered a similar fate yesterday. But I’d told her that VC Menton had said the pointage would be open until 11:30am. She made them go and get their papers to record the points and licences for her and her clubmates.
As I wound my way up the climb, I realised I had forgotten how tricky it is in parts. Amael Moinard overhauled me with about 6km to go. He’s shortly off to the Tour of Turkey where I’m sure he’ll do well. About 2km from the top, I felt my energy ebbing and, to keep going, promised myself a cold coke (and a sugar rush) as soon as I reached the village. Sadly, all I got was a top up at the fountain. As we headed off in the direction of Peille, my legs felt like jelly and I was feeling light-headed. Yes, I was bonking and had absolutely nothing with me. (Memo to self: never, ever go out without something to eat). But I struggled on and having crested the hill, it was downhill all the way to La Turbie, and a late lunch.
Which restaurant to choose? In these instances, my preference is to go for the one with tablecloths and napkins but none of them had these. I then had a quick look at the diners and their plates. I chose the restaurant next to the fountain which turned out to be an excellent choice. The lobster and asparagus salad was delicious, as was my strawberry and violet dessert. Much fortified, we set off in the direction of Col d’Eze and descended back into Nice on the Grande Corniche.
The traffic was backed up all the way round the port and we had to resort to using the cycling path alongside the Promenade. It’s a bit of an obstacle course requiring nerves of steel, good eyesight and eyes in the back of one’s head (or at least helmet). There’s pedestrians, cyclists, joggers, in-line skaters, dogs, other cyclists one or two abreast and kids on scooters, trikes and bikes unable to control their trajectory. We fled back to the road only to meet an Austrian who was cycling from Graz to Santiago di Compostela. We wished him good luck and God speed.
We woke yesterday morning at 07:00am to find that it had been raining in the early hours but was now, thanks to a stiff wind, starting to dry out. The sky was positively leaden and, while we doubted we would make it to the pointage, after 4 days off the bike, we were keen to get out. On the way to the club’s rendez vous point, we passed a few, but not many, other cyclists.
About a dozen hardy club mates had gathered and, as we set off, it started to rain again, albeit gently. The wind was still blowing hard so I tucked in behind our former Directeur Sportif, not a good choice of protection as he’s much smaller and lighter than me, but then aren’t they all? As he dropped back to chat to someone, I went to the front of the bunch and rode alongside M Le President. The rain had now started falling in earnest as we approached the Promenade des Anglais, M Le President muttered something about his waterproof and dropped back. I forged on, head down, only to be pulled back by my husband who advised that everyone else had turned tail and headed for home. We wisely did the same.
Predictably, we got drenched riding back and it took several minutes under a hot shower to warm us up. We went out to collect the newspapers and some shopping, returning home resigned to spending the rest of the day indoors, in the warmth. We spent a lazy afternoon watching a veritable feast of derby matches: Everton v Liverpool, Arsenal v Chelsea, Barcelona v Real Madrid. The more fancied teams winning in all three games. My two teams had both played on Saturday. The boys in claret and blue had a hard fought home draw with Spurs while Nice, away at Sochaux, were undone by a goal which didn’t actually go over the line, according to the replay.
While enjoying the football, I pottered around in the kitchen preparing some meals as my beloved is home all week and will, no doubt, require feeding at regular intervals.
We were woken early this morning by loud claps of thunder and lightening overhead and when we got up found we had no electricity. I could see that the other apartment blocks in the Domaine had lights at a number of the windows; obviously the problem was restricted to our building. Actually, it was restricted to our block of the building, although the lift and the lights in the common parts were working, we just had to wait for the problem to be fixed.
At 11:00am, I decided to investigate what progress was being made to repair the problem and, in the lift, I bumped into my neighbour’s housekeeper who lives in one of the other buildings. She advised that the lightening had thrown out the circuit breaker. I said we’d tried that already, without success. We returned to the flat, she opened the door to the fuses and pressed a switch, in the bottom left-hand corner, which we didn’t know was there, and voila, normal service was resumed. Needless to say, we both felt, and looked, more than a little sheepish.
Yesterday morning I killed the perpetrator of some unspeakable acts of gluttony. He’d spent the previous night gorging himself on my right shoulder, as the raised red welts bore witness. He’d also dined off my right hand and fingers. Death was the only reasonable response.
The weather has been both cold and chilly this week end, with rain yesterday afternoon and evening. This has not prevented us from riding though it has restricted us to the coastal roads. Our disappointment with the weather was much ameliorated by yesterday’s football scores. After a unsatisfactory loss in the dying minutes to West Ham last Wednesday, the Villa boys bounced back to thump Bolton 5-1. This was particularly gratifying as the number of ex-Villa players at Bolton is legion. Not to be outdone, OGC Nice registered their third win on the trot, treating PSG to their first home loss of the season.
My beloved’s gout was bothering him again this morning, so I left him in bed and cycled to the club’s rendezvous. A heated discussion ensued on how best to avoid the routes closed to traffic and cyclists alike thanks to the marathon. A solution was rapidly found and off we cycled, shortly to be joined by those from a neighbouring club. Clearly a popular solution which afforded us glimpses of the runners heading in the opposite direction. In Nice, we profited from a closed Promenade des Anglais, cycling merrily across all four of the lanes – what a treat.
We had somehow misplaced one of our groups and I found myself cycling with the better ie faster riders who dropped me as soon as we climbed out of Nice. I didn’t see most of them again until the pointage although I did pass a few who’d punctured. The club was continuing on to Menton and returning by way of the same route as last week end. But, given the weather, I decided to cycle straight back. That way I’d have plenty of time to prepare and enjoy lunch before settling down to watch the Chelsea v Manchester United match.
After yesterday’s frolic in the sun, the Amstel Curacao race won by one
Bert and companion in Curacao
Alberto Contador, there’s no real racing until the Tour Down Under so it’s during this period that my interest turns to football and cross-country skiing. Yes, yet another sport where the participants wear lycra!
