Nice: A day of Beaches

Saturday, May 29, 2004

Another night at a French truck stop lent to another groggy morning with little sleep. The adrenaline, however, of sleeping in such a place and the brisk air on your face in the morning, not to mention the trucks reving their engines almost next to your head, sure gets one out of bed quickly let me tell you :)

I was up a for quite some time during the night deciding whether or not to make a run for the hole-in-the-ground bathroom or just to go in the bushes. I finally decided on the former, then spent more time pondering whether or not I should wake up a buddy to accompy me the 200 yards to the bathroom in the middle of the night in case I encountered a friendly trucker along the way. I went alone, however, and found that I was actually much braver than I thought I could be. I only jumped twice: once when I heard a bump in the night, and once to escape the shower of liquid that was to follow me out of the bathroom stall and spray the back of my legs with the who-knows-what stuff that comes out of the nozzle.

Morning came quickly after a long night of bathroom adventures for me, and again, we boarded the bus...this time a little more tired and a lot more smelly, and set on the road again for Nice. The drive wasn't too long, I slept most of the way, and when we got there, the ocean (or Sea, I guess it is) was one of the most welcoming sights we ever had seen. So, the two buses full of tired, greasy, unshowered Gonzaga Students headed across town from the train station to the beach. A surprise awaited us, however. Rather than the beach being white sand to match the turquoise water we saw, we found to our dismay that the beach was covered in rocks--large rocks...large, pockey rocks. We also soon discovered that the beach with large, pockey rocks, was to be our sleeping quarters for the night. Now, the trip leader Father Bruno has a motto: "Cheap...cheap is good" and I do have to agree...BUT sometimes it goes a little too far...you'll find out what I mean later :)

The beach was beautiful, to say the least. Again, there were numerous scantally clad Europeans roasting themselves in the sunshine next to us glowing white Americans, but the water (I hear) was warm and the rocks were not as pockey as I had expected. The reason I say that I hear the water was warm was because I never actually got in it! Dancing in the dust in Nimes prompted a bronchial cough that would shake an ant's house and it had progressed, through the night, into one very sore throat. I tried my hardest to be in good spirits, but I don't think I was being a very good sick-person. I slept most of the day in an attempt to quickly recover while everyone else enjoyed the beautiful sunshine, went parasailing, and swam in the turquoise ocean.

For dinner, a group of about 7 of us found a quaint little American-style restaurant and I thoroughly enjoyed a very large ice cream (a great relief to my throat) after dinner. I set up my sleeping bag early and was excited for a peaceful nights sleep next to the waves.

Remember what I said about Bruno's motto going a little too far? Well, this is what happened. It started as soon as we set our backpacks down on the beach in the morning. Bruno watched our backpacks during the day while we basked in the sun. When the sun set, however, the gawkers came and quickly identified us as Americans. Then, throughout the night, we had all sorts of visitors. Drunks and non-drunks alike yelling profanities, one girl puking over the railing a mere 10 feet from our head, beer bottles and the sort thrown at us ( I was showered with beer more than once throughout the evening), and more :) Oh let me tell you, a memorable experience to say the least. Thankfully, we woke up to an Irishmen yelling at us "Americans"...he was quite funny and offered all 108 of us the use of his shower as well as a spot to sleep the following night on his couch. What a tremendously generous offer, don't you think!?!!