A sick and sore Alex, touring with Germans and grocery cheese

Early in the morning, I woke to get ready for the day-long tour of the Provence countryside. We had a 15 minute walk to meet up with our tour. Alex woke up feeling terrible, with his new best friend cough acting up and worse, making his back twinge with pain with every cough. It's the worst combination. The coughing causes back pain and the back pain makes Alex try to avoid coughing, creating bouts of out of control hacking. Poor guy. So for the second time on the trip, Alex had to miss a tour due to illness or back pain. He was pretty okay with it, though. A day of serenity sounded pretty good to him.

When I arrived at our meeting point, which happened to be at a central hotel, there was already a large group of people waiting, surprising me because I thought we'd signed up for a small group tour. I was fooled, however, because shortly afterward, those folks departed with their chipper tour guide (who handed them all mints that she described as good for reducing illness - weird) and I was left standing with two women. Provence tour? Yes. These were my people. They were from Germany, in Nice for a long weekend. How nice it would be to live in Europe and go to places like Nice for the weekend. Our tour van arrived and our guide welcomed us to what turned out to be an amazing day. 

Cannes was our first stop, and the one that I was so sad Alex had to miss. We were to see the famous site of the annual film festival, where the hand prints of film makers and actors lined the building. Turns out Alex missed nothing. There was an event going on on the premises and we were not allowed to enter or even get a glimpse of the famous building. Oh well. So my new friends and I toured the streets of Cannes, which really reminded me of Florida, until it was time for our next stop. This was the lowlight of the tour.

Afterwards, we headed to Grasse, a small town in the countryside, where perfume is made. We toured a perfume factory, something I never thought I'd have any interest in. But it turns out that this process was much more intriguing than that of making wine. I'm not a perfume wearer but I have gained a newfound appreciation for how scent is extracted from flowers and fruits. Also, the soap-stamping machine was amazing. Ropes of uncut soap were extruded from a machine, taken by a worker and put in a huge stamping machine that made them into bars. It reminded me of those episodes of Mister Rogers when he'd show how things were made in factories. I was mesmerized. 

We had lunch in a little village called Gourdon, tucked away in the hilltops of Provence. It was a charming little place, really just big enough to spend an hour touring. Shops and restaurants lined the main street. I had a yummy crepe and a Greek salad, strange gastronomic bedfellows but super tasty. We discussed the recent elections in Germany and goings on in the U.S. It was at this lunch that I heard about the shooting in Las Vegas. America's gun policies became the main topic of our lunch conversation. My companions were surprised by much of what I told them about gun culture in America. For example, they were dismayed that in Minnesota, signs must be put up on buildings where guns are prohibited. It's a very strange concept for them to understand. Heck, it's strange to me.

Our last stop for the day was Saint Paul de Vence, a beautiful, hilly village surrounded by a high wall. It was the highlight of the trip, with its mosaic walkways, little streets and stairways, spectacular views, lovely shops and Medieval charm. I could have spent the entire day exploring but we were given only an hour. I was preoccupied by the mosaic streets and took photos of the ground more often than was probably healthy for me. It's lucky I didn't run into anyone or fall off of a curb. The town is also known for its artists. Marc Chagall was buried in the village, in its Catholic cemetery despite being of the Jewish faith. He lived and worked in the city for many years, saying that its atmosphere and light were his muse. I get you, Marc. It was enchanting.

Back in Nice, the tour guide dropped me off a few minutes from our home in Giribaldi square. I walked through a city park, filled with all kinds of people and families. There were several beautiful climbing structures for kids lining one side of the park, shaped like marine animals. Sharks and octopi were the jungle gyms and swings for Nice's children. I imaged how much my kids, when they were kids, would have loved that park.

Alex and I decided to stay in for dinner so I ran to the market for provisions. They had no deli section, but did have, in the corner of the shop, baguettes for sale. I grabbed one, some packaged cheese, and salami. Alex was skeptical that grocery store cheese could be any good but it turned out that French packaged cheese is delicious. I guess it's not surprising, because France. American cheese doesn't stand a chance. 

We have hopes for a healthier Alex tomorrow.