November 2012

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I hadn’t been to Nice and Monaco since 1987 and Wendy had never been to either place, so when my running mate Matt had suggested a group trip to do the Nice-Cannes Marathon, it seemed a perfect excuse to revisit the area. As it was, Wendy and I treated it as a romantic weekend away and hardly saw the running group during our stay. What follows is a minimalistic account of the main highlights.

Friday November 2nd

We flew EasyJet from Gatwick to Nice on Friday November 2nd around 7.20am. The efficient arrivals procedure meant that we could walk to a bus just outside the terminal and get a ride to the Central Railway Station about 7km away. The drive into town was along the fabulous Promenade Des Anglais with a beautiful setting on the Baie des Anges and the aqua blue sea on our right and runners/joggers/walkers enjoying the sunshine. It only took us 10 minutes to track down and reach our pre-booked cheap hotel called the Parisien Hotel on Rue Vernier two blocks behind the station. Too early to check in, we left our bag and went to explore Nice.

In the 19th Century, the English called the beautiful stretch of coast between Menton and Cannes ‘French Riviera’. The French called it the Cote d’Azur. The four main resorts apparently have intense rivalry. “Flowery Menton, favoured by the elderly, has a cosy prettiness and a genteel, old fashioned air. Monte Carlo, only 8km away is a total contrast, very up to date, brashly glamorous. Nice is a bustling metropolis. Cannes is an efficient, glittering showcase of modern high quality tourism” (Collins Independent Travellers Guide).

Nice with a population of nearly 400,000 is France’s fifth largest city. Apparently, it was an Italian city until 1860 and still retains strong cultural ties to its Mediterranean neighbour. During the Victorian period, the English aristocracy and European royalty enjoyed the mild winter climate. Throughout the 20th century, Nice enjoyed an exceptional art scene, spanning every movement from Impressionism to new realism. The Lonely Persons guide said “The city offers exceptional quality of life: shimmering Mediterranean shores, the very best of Mediterranean food, a unique historical heritage.” It has safe and lively streets but the overall ambience of the town is very relaxed. A new tram system (1 Euro a ride) makes it very easy to get around.

We walked down the attractive and wide main pedestrianised shopping strip called Avenue Jean Medecin all the way to a square near the sea. The Nice Marathon ‘Expo’ was on the Promenade des Anglais where I picked up my running number, chip, T-shirt and we took advantage of the free merchandise on offer. Someone told us we could get a nearby bus to Cannes for a Euro and we jumped on a packed local bus which set off back along the wide palm-lined Promenade des Anglais (English promenade). This road was financed and established by English expats in 1822.

The bus seemed to stop at every tree and never emptied. We went through town after town including Antibes with its vast marina full of yachts. The marina is the second largest in Europe. It took 90 minutes to reach Cannes and we only got seats in last 30 minutes.

I was surprised with Cannes. It only had a population of around 71,000 and seemed like a small French resort, which I suppose it is for the 50 weeks a year when there is no film festival. It retains a genuine small town feel. We mooched around the marina looking at the yachts and huge boats moored there. One man was cleaning his boat ’Aloha’ and we got into conversation using sign language/bad French. It was his 5th boat but he was selling it because his wife was unwell. He gave us a tour of the boat which had two double en-suite rooms, a lounge, sundeck, loads of cupboards, technology etc. It had been built in China and he had brought it brand new 3 years before. The engines (which he also showed me) had only done about 500 hours. The boat had been to southern Italy, Sardinia and Corsica. He wanted 315,000 Euros (bought for 570,000) and gave us a telephone number. It was the first time I had been on a ‘posh’ boat.

In November, it was starting to get dark by 4.30pm so we stuck to the sea front and side streets of small shops. A Carrefour Metro provided us with essential wine and foodstuffs for the hotel. Our problem this weekend was that the train-line between Nice and Cannes was being repaired so the local bus was the only way in and out of Cannes and everyone wanted to get on. We joined a ‘queue’ for the next bus, but enough people jumped in front to ensure we missed it by half a dozen passengers. There was an informal, look by eyes agreement between a few of us that no-one would get ahead of us this time. Another bus arrived within 10 minutes, though we had to wait 10 minutes for the driver to let us on and this time we got a seat.

It took another 90 minutes to crawl back to Nice – probably less because the traffic was lighter. We walked back up Avenue Jean Medecin that looked quite spectacular with its night lights, buildings lit up and some strange sculptures on poles high above us all in individually lit colours. French cuisine that night was, er, hamburgers. We finally got into our room nearly 12 hours after originally arriving!

Saturday November 3rd

Discovering an ‘underpass’ under the train station reduced walking time into the centre. We initially caught a local bus for 1 Euro to Monaco/Monte Carlo but decided to stay on until it terminated at somewhere called Menton. I had never heard of it but it turned out to be a real gem. It is supposedly called ‘the pearl of France’.

Menton (pop 25000+) is set around a beautiful wide bay, backed by rocky heights. With its mellow old fashioned charm, it seemed to be the prettiest and gentlest of the major resorts on the Cote, also the warmest in winter, hence the acres of lemon groves for which it is famous. Just west of Italy, it was very popular with the English gentry. In 1900 its British population of 5000 was the largest on the continent.

We mooched around the streets looking at the old hotels, now mostly apartments and followed the graceful palm-lined Promenade du Soleil down to the port. We came across the little 17th century harbour bastion looking out to see that Jean Cocteau converted into a museum in the late 1950s and which is decorated with grey and white mosaics made from seaside pebbles. The picturesque alleys of the vieille ville rise just behind the port topped by the 17C Baroque church of St Michael. It was a nice relaxed area to just wander around. I bought some more pottery.

Eventually, we caught a bus back to Monaco. For centuries Monaco was controlled by the Grimaldi family. Their main income came from tax levied on Menton’s lemons and olives and when Menton revolted in 1848, they needed another income. Prince Charles III decided to build a casino in 1863 to lure Europe’s big spending aristocrats (gambling was banned in much of Europe). He called it Monte Carlo after himself. It was helped by a new railway from Paris to Nice in 1868. Within two years, so much money was coming in, that direct taxation was abolished in Monaco which continues today. The Monte Carlo casino was known as the ‘cathedral of hell’ in Victorian times. But after gambling was legalised in 1933, the profits fell dramatically. Nowadays only 4% of the state’s revenue comes from gambling, 25% from tourism and rest is from business. Monaco is a Lilliputian sovereign state, wealthy and glamorous where 32000 people are squeezed into a 200 hectare strip of land between sea and mountains. There is no room to build except upwards. Only 5000 people are ‘locals’

Outside the main Casino at night, the scene is dazzling. There are immaculate formal gardens with palms and flowerbeds, flags banners and fountains. The casino has an imposing neo-Baroque façade with four towers pointing skywards. I had visited the casino before and wearing shorts today, I wouldn’t get in, so Wendy entered to have a stroll around the ‘general public’ area. I stood and watched the flash cars come past – people posing and pretending to be important. Outside the casino a Rolls Royce was parked. It must be tough to be rich enough to be bored with money that you feel the need to blow some now and again.

I have always found Monaco to be very characterless. It’s just a small modern city with a lot of money but does not show it off. Some of the hotels lit at night looked nice. But when the rain started to crash down, it was a miserable place to explore. We came across the funfair and grabbed some chips and fried dough sticks. Occasionally we had come across ‘Defilliberator 200m’ signs. Does this mean the population has a higher rate of heart attacks (from carrying around heavy wallets?). We eventually found the train station and caught a clean double-decker train back to Nice. Up the road from the hotel, we had a delicious Lebanese meal of various dishes.

Sunday November 4th – Nice to Cannes Marathon Day

The rain had continued to pour down all night and it was still raining when I awoke around 6am. The race start would be 8am on the Promenade des Anglais near the Expo tent I had visited on Friday. As usual, I dawdled and ended up leaving the room at 7.30am, jogged through the underpass and down Avenue Jean Medecin arriving at the start around ten minutes before the start. My main concern was the 6 hour time limit to complete the 26 miles/42 kilometres. The organisers said a ‘sweeper’ vehicle would drive at 6 hour pace to pull out stragglers. I had a brain wave. With 7000 runners, the closer I got to the front, the faster I would be over the start line and my chip would be activated but it would take the sweeper vehicle up to 20 minutes to cross the start line, so I would be well ahead of it. Everyone was relaxed and I was able to weave myself through the runners until I was about 5 rows back from the elite runners. The rain had stopped but it was very overcast.

Off we went along the Promenade des Anglais retracing much of the bus route to Cannes. It would have been glorious in sunshine, but the cool temperatures worked to my advantage. I plodded off at a comfortable speed as everyone came past me including the official pace makers holding ‘3hours’, ‘4 hours’ etc signs. When I got to around 4 miles, I was amazed to find a ‘sweeper’ vehicle join me. I looked at my watch and thought ‘I’m running well ahead of 6 hour pace’ and looked behind to still see plenty of runners behind me. I then decided to try and stay with the vehicle for the next few miles. The result was that when I passed the halfway point (21km) on a seafront in 2 hours 29 mins, I was 30 minutes ahead of schedule and I had run my fastest half marathon of the year. The only problem was that I had to run another half marathon!

There were cheering crowds on the streets at various points especially in the towns, but the rain had taken its toll on spectators. We entered Antibes and ran along the town’s huge sea walls that bear witness to a defensive past. By 25km, I was feeling the pace and at a water stop, I pulled up to check my feet, drink some coke, eat some fruit/biscuits and just get myself sorted. I’m glad I did because at 27km, an unexpected hill loomed in front which was a bit of a killer. I was passing walkers who would later run past me. It was just a case of ticking off the kilometres. I knew I would arrive by 6 hours. I was especially cheered when I passed a runner being sick over a seawall! The rain returned with a vengeance and entering Cannes outskirts, it was just miserable. I plodded on and eventually reached the palm tree lined home straight with sponsor banners. I finished in 5 hours 53 minutes, my fastest time for about four years. I was soaked but presented with a nice medal, a backpack and loads of fruit/things to eat.

I walked to the area where the organisers had laid on buses for the competitors. The 5 Euros paid in advance was well worth it and I was back in Nice by 3.30pm and back at the hotel for a quick shower. Wendy had spent the day exploring Nice and chatting to an old French woman about English and French politics and the state of French society.

We headed for the Musee d’art Moderne et d’art Contemporain (Mamac) which contained avant garde art from 1960s to present. This would be the only time we could squeeze it in. I was surprised that my legs felt pretty good. The art gallery was a strange futuristic building with both excellent and naff pieces of modern art. But as the rain hammered down outside in the dark, it felt good to be strolling around in the dry. We finished off the day with a pizza in a cosy restaurant and caught a tram back to the hotel. I had completed my 66th marathon.

Monday November 5th

The rain had gone and the sunshine was finally back again. We checked out but left our bags at the hotel. Nice is a town of contrasts. The sophisticated seafront hotels along the Promenade des Anglais seem a world away from the teeming compact medieval alleyways of the Vielle Vieux which is very Italian in character. Above it looms the rocky hill where the castle once stood, and beyond is the port.

We climbed up to the summit of the Parc du Chateau, a 92m tall hilltop park for marvellous views both over the port, the old town and right along the coast bordered by the Promenade des Anglais. There used to be a castle/mansion/church on top of this hill but just the foundations are left. The Vieux Vieux (old town) is labyrinthine baroque old town with a tangle of alleyways and back streets bursting with local life. Today, it seemed full of tourists eating at outside restaurants. We explored the area and then looked for a bus to Eze which lies just north of Nice in the mountains. It was another 1 Euro ride and less than an hour away.

The extraordinary village of Eze, maybe the most perched village in France is squeezed onto a cone of a 1400ft over the sea. It’s a short walk up into the old town, the original fortified village once topped by a castle that was destroyed in Louis XIV’s time, through the medieval/14th century Postern Gate and walls. There was a tight little maze of stairs and alleys to confuse the attackers. The cream and yellow Chappelle des Penitents Blancs (1766) is the oldest building, started in 1306. Late in the afternoon, the tour buses had been and gone and we had the place mostly to ourselves.

Eze is known for its perfume factories which were originally based on the amount of local wild flowers that bloomed in the area. I took Wendy to the largest one ‘Fragonard’ for a tour where we learnt the difference between perfume, eau d’cologne and toilet water (it’s about the oil content which retains the scent and perfume has the thickest concentration) and that someone who creates perfume scents is called a ‘nose’. It would have been rude not to have bought Wendy some perfume.