Nice is nice. There. I said it. The too-oft-repeated faux joke that has plagued travel writers and annoying, world-travelling relatives for generations. I said it. I got it out of the way. I hope to never have to do it again. But it is. Nice. Nice. The weather isn't bad for this time of year, the Promenade des Anglais is beautiful and fun. The Vielle Ville is intricate and homey. It's nice. It's a place of bold contrast, however. For every Benz-driving, turtle-neck and sport-coat wearing heir to someone's throne, there are two guys with wheels of the more base kind: the kind that are basically four wheels bolted to a piece of plywood by which they propel themselves from one temporary shelter from the elements to the next. The mega-rich and the awe-inspiring poor yell at each other as they pass on the Promenade des Anglais. The views are striking from the hills, but there's a thick layer of tangible smog from impartial diesel engines and the fumes of thousands of simultaneously lit cigarettes that prohibits any extended vistas from hitting home. The public transit system covers a wide area and is relatively cheap, but is only in operation from 7AM to 1AM, and even then is spotty and inconsistent. The region is full, rempli, of immigrants of some kind: Italian, Spanish, Portugal, Senegalese, and yet a typical gripe, or, more exactly, a typical vector quantity of a gripe here is "les immigrants," even if the griper in question happens to be one. Comment vite qu'on oublie... Stark contrasts. Interesting contrasts. This place has character, but it still hasn't made up its mind. Sydney made up its mind a while ago, and decided to strut its stuff on the world stage. Watching things happen in Sydney is like watching a fine athlete in play. Conscious thought and instinct and muscle and resilience meld to form something beautiful and meant to be. Watching things happen in Nice is like watching someone on ice-skates for the first time, complaining the whole way about how it wouldn't be so difficult if the ice weren't so slippery. It's an interesting place. Nice.
The McGuirk World Tour 3.0
One guy's travels. Divulged. Documented. Analyzed. Ridiculed. Respected. Envied. The McGuirk World Tour continues. This time the stop is Delhi, India, for a semester.
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