Sunday we left late morning to catch a bus to the Chagall museum. On exhibit were large canvases of Old Testament scenes. With Chagall there are usually spirits flying around his canvases, so with my graveyard visitations from Paris still fresh in my mind I think I was more open to his angel-inflected Biblical paintings.
Then there were his marvelous stained glass chapel designs.
After our dose of Sunday morning Chagall, it was time to head for the promenade and look for carousels. The promenade is above a very stony beach on the coastline. A lot of people on this Sunday are sunning themselves, a few are swimming, but no one’s brave enough to run on the stones.
A small corner section of sand is for those who want softer sunning.
Ella was bent on going straight to the Blockhead Library, but all I could envision was Lucy yelling at Charlie Brown so I opted for taking a detour up Castle Hill.
A lot of steps took us up Castle Hill where, wouldn’t you know it, there was an old cemetery daring us to take a peek. I wasn’t aware of any possible ghosts other than maybe Jean-Genêt out to rob me, but his preferred hangout had always been Marseilles. So into the cemetery where mausoleums rise on the hillside like towers in Manhattan.
Castle Hill is a large park on a promontory above Nice. Up by some ruins of a 12th century cathedral is a pétanque court.
Pétanque seems like the sort of sport meant for someone my age. I mean to petition the mayor for a court back home. Maybe down by the Rio. We could always vote on a bond.
The view of Nice from Castle Hill is worth the climb.
Zig-zagging down the steps we reached the part of the promenade that bends around the bottom of the hill and leads to the harbor.
Today the walkway by the boats was taken up with an extensive flea market. Very popular venue. People were sizing second-hand clothes and other used oddments while in the background millionaire yachts gleamed in the sun.
After skirting the harbor we took a street that led us practically straight to the Blockhead. Great idea for a library!
And then, after checking out another carousel, the highlight of my day: finally, a frog leg appetizer.
Eating these little morsels reminded me of when I ordered a plate of squib at Musso and Franks in Hollywood many years ago. I spent a lot of time spitting out tiny bones, but the meat was tender, soft tidbits like creamy chicken done in an herbal garlic sauce.
Frogs legs always remind me of the famous New Yorker cartoon by Sam Gross. It’s worth googling.
I googled. That’s darkly funny!