Review of holidaying in Nice.
Like gravity or the reality that someone would always stop in the center of the sidewalk to check their phone, tourism in Nice is one of those phenomena that seems natural. You arrive, you glimpse the sea, you sigh a little, and you ask yourself why you ever believed staying at home would be a wise choice. Probably because Nice doesn't work particularly hard to impress you, it succeeds.The city knows just how beautiful it looks, so it extends along the Baie des Anges. Tourists go to the Promenade des Anglais to perfect the age-old craft of strolling while faking they are locals. Sunglasses help to dispel this illusion; so does looking somewhat busy with a coffee in hand. Having tried this personally, I can attest it works for roughly thirty seconds until you pause to capture a palm tree's picture.
Technically, Nice has beaches; nonetheless, calling them pebbly is being kind. To bare feet, the stones are circular, smooth, and somewhat abrasive. Locals walk across them with the calm assurance of those who have come to terms with their lot. Tourists bounce, wince, and question if this qualifies as a genuine experience. It seems so, evidently. But the sea makes up for everything. It seems altered and you will momentarily ponder giving up your work to become someone who swims before lunch.
Food in Nice is serious business dressed as casual. Eating socca off a paper plate will make you feel weirdly proud of yourself, as though chickpea flour had opened a portal to a greater knowledge of life. Then there's salade Nicoise, which everyone disagrees about, including people who aren't from Nice but still feel very strongly. Here, tourism teaches you that food arguments are a local pastime and that involvement is welcomed.
The ancient city is a maze meant to make you blissfully lost. Narrow lanes lead you past lavender-themed stores, cafes serving menus in at least four languages, and bakeries. Though thousands of other individuals are experiencing the same discovery at the same time, you will convince yourself you are finding hidden gems. This is some of the appeal here. Common illusion is still illusion, but it makes one happy.
Tourism in Nice thrives not only for the food and the views. Life seems to be moving a bit more comfortably. People eat, laugh, debate, talk, and eat once more. You begin to see how frequently hurried you usually are, and you become somewhat ashamed about it. Nice is not going to criticize you for this. It simply gives you a gelato and waits.
You will say you might live there by the time you leave. Though most likely untrue, this is a nice idea. Along with sore feet, too many images, and a calm vow to come back—which you could or might not keep—tourism in Nice bestows that gift upon you. It feels sincere for some time, though.
