A la Fabo, "NICE"

June 28:

It is finally summer in France. Or it could be that I am on the Riviera. Nice, to be exact. Three days of relaxing. No sites to see. I've done the day trips already. I'm just gonna sit out by the beach and read. And then go to Wayne's at least once. (Fun times ay Rob?)

It's always great to find a cheap hostel, but chances are you will get what you pay for. The hostel in Nice where I wanted to stay was booked for yesterday so I found a cheap place for the night. Oh the Pink Lady. That place has "character." At 19 euros it served as nothing more than a place to lay my head for the night. And I didn't even lay my head on the pillow (I pack my own little pillow for such cases). I checked in at 11pm and checked out promptly at 9am. I didn't even bother taking a shower there. *backpacking at its finest* As the Pink Lady showed me to the room, guess who was walking out the front door. My roommate from Strasbourg. The girl from American University. Love it! We shared our train strike stories and agreed to make plans for Paris. *backpacking at its finest*

After I checked out, I did laundry and made my way to the next hostel, where I am now. Once these Spaniards leave for Monaco, I will wash and dress. While this hostel is much nicer, this room is tiny. I don't feel like maneuvering my way around six people as I get ready. I do wish they would pick up the pace though. Europeans. Never rushing anything.

Commentary:

Laundry day! I hate this chore back home but I have begun to look forward to it while traveling. Counting down the days until I spend a couple hours in a laundry mat. The laundry mats are no more exciting than they are in the States. The experience of waiting for the washer or dryer to finish is not any more interesting either. And folding is still as boring as ever. But after a month (actually I think it started after about 2 weeks) I feel like a constant layer of travel funk is ever attached to my presence. When I pull those clothes out of the industrial dryer, I feel a bit renewed. (And once I take this shower, I am sure I will feel even better.) It may also be a prudent investment to purchase some eau de toilette. Oh, speaking of...

Somebody has got to stop these French men from wearing Jean Paul Gaultier. It is ever so distracting. Every time a man walks by wearing it I have to stop. En fait, at a kabab shop in Lyon, I had just finished my meal when a man surrounded by the alluring aroma of Gaultier sat down at the table next to me. I made those last few sips of cherry coke last 15 minutes.

I realize that I have skipped Lyon. It is coming along with a picture upload. I just want to get to the beach ASAP and as the Spaniards have now departed, I can rid myself of travel funk and play in the Mediterranean.

Quite a few hours later:

I have reached my summer hue! Napping on the beach will do that to you. I'm heading out for dinner, mussels and frites. It is apparently a big deal here.