September 15 - Travel Day, Faenza Italy to Nice France

Italy’s wonderful Autogrille will be missed.  The rest stop that offers caprese paninis, buffalini pitas, espressos, cappucinos, americanos, and the constant maniacal laugh of a motion-sensing stuffed toy.  If you have more time you can have a whole roast pig.

Driving into France was like landing an airplane.  It was decided to visit Nice on one of its 45 rainy days, making for not-so-nice conditions on the narrow, winding mountain roads.  The van had to make three-point turns to navigate the hairpins.  On one particularly steep incline an impatient woman behind us attempted to pass.  She failed.  Her failure occurred when the gravity of the van kissed her passenger door.  It was an unrequited french kiss.  A faux pas if you will.

The tired tires of the van slickly squealed to a rendezvous point to settle the bullshit.  She was a Brit and her kids were late for Judo.  She also had to make dinner.  We gave her 300 Euros.  Sounds like a KFC night to me.

With a dent in our morale Nice seemed like it could be renamed Sucks.  But it’s funny what spirits, good company, and delicious food can do.  The lovely duo of Stella Peel welcomed us into their wonderful home with liquid-licorice Pastis and tasty white port wine.

A walk along the calm, calming Mediterranean Sea led to the old town and its slender, intoxicating walkways.  I had been here last year with Lauren (my girlfriend) a couple of times (when not performing comedy on a cruise ship) and little forgotten activities were remembered (like eating ice cream).

We met Stella Peel’s pal Laurent at a restaurant specializing in French and Italian fare, with a well humored staff that was helpful and patient with Americans.   Degustacion, a large lovely platter of traditional French entrees, was ordered for eight and devoured by 8:00. 

Mike, Alan and I enjoyed carpaccio with parmesian and corn frites.  The house wine sported a Spy vs. Spy bomb on its label, and the event was topped with a round of basil liqueur shots. 

Sylvain from Stella Peel suggested Fenocchio Maitre Glacier, the same ice cream parlor where Lauren and I had spent our last afternoon in Nice.  The more unique flavors included cactus, tomato and basil, and thyme, which tasted like a large mouthful of cold, creamy…thyme.

Our stomachs were full of pasta, cow sushi, liquor, and ice cream.  So we decided to go swimming in the Mediterranean.  The warm, salty waters provided a tranquil thrill, a use of water displacement to relieve stress.

"Gresther" and Alan stayed at Chateau Stella Peel while Mike and I crashed at Laurent’s.  While parallel parking his Peugot, a rear sensor indicated how far he was from the car behind.  Mike and I marveled at the idea.  It might have prevented our afternoon fender bender.

"We could have used one of those today!"

"Oh, they're only 300 Euros."