Getting out of Italy was a little more difficult than expected in more ways than one. Physically, issues with the train tickets had us waiting in the Milan train station for four hours. We ended up passing the time at the Sky Bar Lounge where we had an aerial view of the trains and some great paninis. So by the time we got to Nice, it was late and we were hungry and tired. Unfortunately for us, Europe is mostly closed on Sunday—especially after 8. So we walked towards the water and found a place to relax and have a quick bite. The small bar didn’t look very promising but it was the only thing open on the main street. We were very pleasantly surprised to find an extremely friendly wait-staff and some of the best fried chicken I had ever tasted.
Due to the train issues (the waiting, the transfers, the wrong tickets…..), we sadly did not get to “see” Nice. The parts we were able to see from the train were, however, gorgeous. Oh well, that just means we have to come back. :)
The funny thing about leaving Italy is that it left its mark on not only me, but also with my parents. All three of us have been struggling with the transition from Italian to French. But, thankfully, the French people just smile, nod and seem to understand us.
And if anyone was wondering, the French people (so far) have been extremely nice and helpful—quite the opposite of the stereotype we had been expecting.
“I walked across an empty land/ I knew the pathway like the back of my hand/ I felt the earth beneath my feet/ Sat by the river and it made me complete/ I came across a fallen tree/ I felt the branches of it looking at me/ Is this the place we used to love?/ Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?.../ And if you have a minute why don't we go…/ Somewhere only we know” --Keane
That's a beautiful song.
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