Written 23 November 2009

Saturday, I went to the train station for a trip to an undecided location. Examining the train schedule, I realized I wanted to venture out a little further from Montpellier than the previous trips. I saw a train to Nice was departing soon so I went for it. Nice, I knew, is in the south of France and, with this knowledge, I expected a short train ride. Only when no information for Nice appeared in my Languedoc-Roussillon travel guide did I realize I could be going a little further than expected. Nonetheless, it seemed to be the right thing to do.

The train ride was a little more than four hours to Nice. If I had had to turn right back around and come back as soon as I got to Nice, the money and the time would have been well spent. The scenery was beautiful. Normally, on trains, I read the majority of the time. Going through Provence on the way to Nice, the book was in the bag and the head was turning from window to window. One side was mountainous, hilly countryside of vineyards, mountainside villas, red clay and rock. The colors were amazing. Sides of mountains were set ablaze by the reds, yellows, and oranges emanating from vineyards, farms, rooftops, rock and earth. It was more than the color, the earth was a beautifully formed, rugged and harsh land of dramatic slopes and rises. It was quite the show. On the opposite side of the train, I could see the Mediterranean. As mentioned above, my neck was sore by the end. Look one way to see a vineyard, turn to catch a wave crashing against the side of a cliff, and repeat again.

In Nice, I spent most of my time on the french riviera and in old Nice. I climbed to the top of a mountain/large hill to an old fort that was once the city's defenses. At the summit was the remnants of the old chateau and, what I was really there for, a panorama of the city and its harbor. The old parts of Nice looked like a spanish-tiled jungle. The rooftops canopied the streets and people below. I thought I could walk from one end of town to its opposite, never having to jump from rooftop to rooftop. The bay is crescent shaped with both tips extending rocky arms out into the sea. I could see further than the harbor and the town to the mountains that separate the city from the rest of France to the north, bays farther down the riviera to the west and east, and miles of sea to the south.

In the city itself, I walked around the old section for most of the time. There is a beautiful flower market which, in the morning, includes many products (fruits, vegetables, olive oil, soap, etc.) made and/or grown in Provence. Adding the colors and smells to a square of old, beautiful, and colorful buildings, it is tough to out-do. Old Nice is a maze of narrow streets filled with restaurants, bars, shops, markets, churches, and old government buildings. I thought if I extended my arms full length, I could touch the buildings on both sides of the street. One of the neatest shops I saw was one where you could create your own pasta from scratch. The restaurants were diverse. Being as close as Nice is to Italy and northern Africa, the culture is much less french and more of a eclectic mixture of just about anything and everything.

Saturday night, I went to a russian cathedral in town and missed my train. I had no problem missing my train, the extra night made it more of a vacation. For dinner, I wanted a good, french meal, but was lured by a fantastic, turk dinner instead. The hotel was nice, I always enjoy staying in one. Sunday morning, I awoke early and watched the sunrise on the french riviera. I started with a walk up the rocky beach and ended in a cafe for breakfast. As I ate, I watched a sail boat race in the harbor and looked out on the water, the cliffs, and the pink and blue sky. I wanted time to stop and stay the way it was forever, great vacation.

Written 8 November 2009

Wow, it is amazing how fast time flies. I see my last entry was nearly two weeks ago. What to write about? What is there I would want to share? I face not a lack of subjects, but an overflow of material. So much is done in so little amount of time, each event seems a blur. Yet, there is a design to it all. Exact events and experiences are washed away by the streams of a continuous, chaotic schedule. What is left are the remnants of past experiences in the shape of new knowledge and understanding. Not everything seems as new and strange, yet, nothing is sedentary, nothing is ordinary.  I continue to learn, continue to lose myself in what was once unknown. Looking back, it seems so much. Like reading far too many pages in a book in too short a time, you progress in understanding, yet, you strain to isolate a single event and its impact on your overall outlook. I am lost, yet, there is something detached from it all which seems to take comfort in the course of events. I can't explain it, but there is an over-arching sense of progression and satisfaction I have yet to experience. 

Three weeks ago, feeling a little fatigued from a week of school and work, I promised myself I would travel to a different city each weekend. With a friend or alone, it didn't matter. Each Saturday, go to the train station and see something new. I have done just that the past two Saturdays. Two Saturdays ago, I went to Avignon. It is a beautiful city in the south of France. I spent the afternoon in the city, most of which was taken up by a tour of the Palais des Papes. I was amazed with it all. The luxurious, voluptuous halls of the palace, the seat of the church's once all-imminent power as ruler of man and territory, seemed so foreign to the church I see back home. There is no better place to see what once was and, now, what is than Europe. The sights from the palace's terraces were amazing. I was there at sunset, the sky was lit purple, pink, orange, and gold by the fading rays. The view was expansive, capturing an entire region it seemed from one high vantage point.  I could see where the rivers ran and collided with one another, the entire river-island city of Avignon, as well as hundreds of miles of countryside, was at my viewing disposal. It was magnificent, a place and a feeling with no match.

This past Saturday, I went to Toulouse. I was surprised by the size of the city. For some reason, it reminded me of the historic district of Philadelphia. There was a big difference between Toulouse and Montpellier and Avignon. This might be obvious, Montpellier and Avignon are more "mediterranean" style (don't know enough about the style to call it anything different), stucco, romanesque style buildings. Toulouse is more colonial, red brick buildings, beautiful palaces built for le "gloire" of past monarchs. It is a beautiful town, called the "rose city" or something to that effect (it appears a pinkish color at certain times, in certain light). I, like usual, wanted to get lost in the town, see as much of the city as possible. I did indeed do just that, making it across a great portion of the city in one afternoon. The only negative was the rain. It rained very heavily shortly after I arrived. There was no way I was wasting the afternoon and the money, so I stayed out in it and got soaked. I had to walk around cold and wet for the majority of the day, but the sights were worth the efforts. I went to a beautiful park, found a very neat, outdoor antique market, and saw a couple beautiful churches. If I was to rank the cities I have been to, Toulouse would be at the top. This Saturday, I think a trip to Lyon is in order.