Provence - Day 3 - East of Nice

 

Grasse

Grasse’s claim to fame is perfume, whose appeal is somewhat lost on me. But the views of the coast below are just lovely. I particularly enjoyed the Provencal art museum, which showed displays of traditional Provencal Art.

Err… clothing. Lots of clothing and Claviers, i.e., chatelaine rings, from which women hung their keys, etc.

Yup, clothes with no pockets. It was interesting, all strata of society did the same crossed kerchief across the chest style. Just in different fabrics. Both Karen and I really liked the bonnets that the women were wearing, which were made of fine lawn . Alas, though we looked, we could not find them for sale in any of the shops.

Cannes

                
  Cannes smells like a beach town. You could smell the suntan lotion as soon you left the train station and headed towards the beach. I can’t even imagine what it’s like at the height of the tourist season.    
 

The climb up through the streets of the old town was picturesque.
The castle is now a museum, so we paid the entrance fee and went in. Some baron who loved travel and primitive art left his collection to the museum. So, it was a lot of masks, spears, little statues, figurines and sarcophagi. He also had a large collection of musical instruments and some horribly phallic drums and spears. No close-up pictures, but they may appear in the background.
The museum also had a collection of paintings of the surrounding area dating back to the mid 1700s. It was interesting to see the landscape change “abruptly” between the late 1700s and the mid 1800s, when the coast was “discovered” as a vacation spot.
     
 
             

We climbed the tower and the view at the top was just incredible. Blue water and white sand and mountains. All laid out in brilliant Technicolor view. There was a cool light breeze that played with my skirt and I wanted to absorb the moment forever.
But time creeps on and we made our way down the stairs and down to the beach. The bus schedules at the bus station lied to us, which was sad for our feet, but good for the soul.
             

We walked down to the water on one of the beaches.
All the sand is imported, and they imported some very nice sand. It was white with gold flecks in it. And as the clear blue rolled in gentle waves, I could see the gold flecks suspended in the water. Watched it wash over my feet and round my legs. Felt the warm sun on my back. Beautiful and perfect and, again, fleeting.

We walked back to the train station through a park. There were men playing boules. A game I don’t quite understand (mind you I’m deliberately ignorant of most sports), but it involves throwing silver spheres at, I think, a green ball in a long court. We watched. We bought drinks and went on.