Out of some sort of false sense of modesty, I will not publish any of the embarrassing photos of our exploits on the beach in Nice. I will, instead, use a few photos to show you what this wonderful beach is made up of.
So, three of our four travelers get this idea one day to go down for a dip in the Bay of Angels in Nice. We are of Celtic heritage (translation-pasty white) and decided this exploit would be best done after peak sunshine hours. Only one of us had better sense and promised to take said photos, which shall not be published.
The three of us got dressed up in our swimming togs and because the beach in Nice is made up of rocks, 2 of us had on sandals/flip flops to make walking easier. I was the stupid one who went with bare feet.
Down at the beach, there are several impediments to a comfortable beach experience:
- Waves break close to shore, piling up a steep slope of painful, slippery stones about a meter high.
- The water and air are now cooler, as it is late afternoon, heading towards evening.
- There are plenty of witnesses to what is about to happen and most of them have cameras and possibly Instagram sites and YouTube channels. Oh well, we will never see them again and hopefully nobody will recognize us in whatever gets published on social media.
We make it down to the beach and then slide our way down the rocky slope and into the medium sized waves of now cool water. OK, now what? Under water, the slope continues and with the constant incoming waves and sliding stones, it is hard to keep one’s feet on terra firma. My Patty goes down and F is having trouble keeping her feet. I have no choice, but to stand there and try to anchor them, as the stones continue to shift under my feet and I gradually get shorter and shorter. We all finally managed to right ourselves, steady each other and with not one shred of dignity left, we turn to face those on the beach, as we slipped, slid and climbed our way back over the rocks to our socks and shoes, Ouch….Oooouch….Yikes…..Ouch.
We soggily walk back to the apartment, all agreeing that this was a failed enterprise, but laughing our heads off, nonetheless. Later, when we check J’s camera, several of the most embarrassing photos have suspiciously disappeared. Likely, for the best.
It was only on our last day, during our taxi ride to the airport that we learned that this beach used to be sand, not good sand, but, sand nonetheless. It seems that the posh hotels along the Promenade des Anglais got tired of cleaning sand out of their carpets and rugs and a decision was made to cover the sand with rocks. Thanks guys.
Down a Slippery Slope
Bay of Angels beach
stones hurt our feet, as we walk
down slippery slope.