I sat down to look in my guidebook to see what Rick had to say about transportation from the airport to the city. I couldn't find it. Panic set in. People would have thought that I had lost a diamond ring based on how frantically I was pulling things out of my bag. But, alas. There it was.
I figured out that bus #99 would be the best one for me to take, but bus #98 could work too. I walk outside and there's #98, and not in the mood to wait any longer, I climbed on. Now, #99 would take me directly to my destination, while #98 did not, but I figured I could just figure it out along the way. I thought, "Oh, I'll just know it when I see it." What a stupid thought. Here I am, in FRANCE, and I think I'll just recognize where I need to get off. I guess that's what happens when you show up in a city after two hours of sleep.
Before I know it, I am the last person on the bus, and I have not yet had an epiphany of where I need to disembark. I realize it is never going to come, so I get off the bus. And I start walking. Back in the direction I came from, because things around me are starting to look sketchyyy.
Like I've said before, things just always work out. Fifteen minutes later, I hit Massena Square - the main square in Nice. And then, boom, I know where I am on the map and am at my hostel 20 minutes later. So, granted, it took me a lot longer to get to my hostel than originally planned, but I definitely got to see some parts of the city that I wouldn't have been able to otherwise.
Upon arrival at my hostel, I am told that I can't check in for another hour, so I sit down to grab some wifi before wandering through town for a bit. This is when I meet THE TEACHER. Now, you wouldn't think she's a teacher - half of her hair is in dreadlocks, and she's wearing more makeup than a housewife of Orange County - but alas, she teaches French to children. And she's Irish (she tells me this to explain why she has such a nasty temper).
She offers to give me a tour of the city while I wait to check-in. If there's one thing I've learned on this trip, it's that hanging out with strangers and making new friends has only provided good times and great stories. This encounter only provided the latter.
We begin walking around, and I look down and realize that she is holding a key in her fist. She informs me that she won't hesitate to use it on anyone. She proceeds to shake her fist and yell a stream of French and English profanities at any guys that not only say things to us, but that simply look at us. I try to ignore all of this by asking her questions about work and her travels and so on and so forth. This somehow led her into a detailed description of her relationship with her boyfriend back home and how he doesn't care if she sleeps around while she travels... T.M.I.
Then she starts talking about how all these people got pick-pocketed in France, but it was only because they don't have street-smarts like me (since obviously I could take anyone out since I'm from Jersey). I just laugh along, purposefully never baring the fact that just last week my wallet was stolen.
THEN, she made some offensive gay joke, to which I didn't reply. So then she goes, "Oh, no, I didn't mean it, I love gay people... actually I am gay sometimes." I just awkwardly laugh. Then she goes, "I'm not gonna hit on you, I mean you're gorgeous, but don't worry." I still say nothing... What am I supposed to say?! She continues: "For real, Jersey! I mean, you are totally my type, but if you're not gay, then I get it!" I just keep laughing because I have nowhere to run to.
She continues to make some comment about how she's only being so ridiculous because she's drunk. It was barely noon. After an hour of this, I cut our wonderful conversation short by saying that I need to go check into my hostel. I run in the opposite direction, now paranoid that every guy is out to get me and that they're going to rob and kill me.
Then the lady at my hostel tells me that I need to get a lock for all of my things, and I start wondering to myself... "Why did I ever think that I was going to be able to survive France on my own??!!"
After a short nap, I walk down to the water to take some pictures.
At this point, I'm starting to feel a little bit better about Nice. Staring at the Mediterranean will help do that.
I then go back to my hostel for dinner. Every other night they have a $3 pasta and wine party. Now, that is not a deal that I can pass up. I end up going with two of my roommates, Emma from Sweden and Becci, from Germany. We hung out with this guy from California. The whole time I was just trying to prove that not everyone from the States is like this guy... He was basically in Europe to try different drugs in every city he went to and was taken aback by the fact that that was not the same reason I was abroad.
Emma, Becci and I then walked down to the water where there were some amazing street performers.
It was so cool to watch them perform while the sun was setting.
We walked along the water and then wandered into the old town of Nice where we got GELATO. There was about 150 flavors to choose from. I chose strawberry and mojito. It was amazing.
We then wandered back through the square, which was full of happy tourists. Not scary people like some crazy Irish people want you to think.
And just like that, I didn't want to leave Nice. Thankfully, I still had three days left.
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