Monday, May 27th, 1991
I’m up first, awakening around 5 and going to the living room at 6:30. Vianeytte leaves for work at 8. I have decided to go with her into Nice and I will walk around the old city taking photos while she works.
Michel is flying to the U.S. on Tuesday, so today he plans on going to work for part of the day, and then return home to finish some tasks around the house and pack.
It feels strange to me that within the space of one week I have been in Japan, Hong Kong and France. Each country is very different.
Tokyo is the model of efficiency. Everything, everyone working in harmony. It reminds me of the old model of the universe. A series of celestial spheres, a complicated machine painstakingly crafted that keeps the heavens revolving around the Earth. Like the model, Tokyo works, but I don’t feel that it is real. In dark alleys and around corners you can see where the pressure valves are, the night clubs and bars. In the newer generation of Japanese there is beginning to be a growing dissatisfaction with how things are done.
Hong Kong is very different from Tokyo. It is a seamy city. A warren of dank passages between towers of poverty with occasional pockets of wealth. I suspect that most tourists only see the Disneyland like facade of Hong Kong, and don’t walk down the back alleys. I can’t imagine what it is like living in the government housing. Even the housing the wealthy live in is different from what you would expect. The buildings are set on small grounds and often haven’t any view. Superstition plays a dominate role here in all aspects of life, even housing. Houses with house numbers such as eights or twos are considered better than others. People have been known to spend up to a million U.S. dollars on an auto license plate that has the right number. Obviously, these plates end up on Mercedes or Rolls Royces, of which you see a surprising number. What happens to Hong Kong when the Chinese take over is anyone’s guess.
Nice is paradise except for the tourists. The film festival just ended and England just had a three day weekend. So there are a lot of tourists still around. But even with the traffic and the tourists shops it is a beautiful place. It has the French charm, the blue . Mediterranean sea and beautiful women.
Michel has just gotten up and let out the dogs. I kidded Michel and Vianeytte about getting Aptec to open an office here or Michel convincing FPS to hire another engineer for the area. It would be a simple decision to move here if I could get a job.
Vianeytte gives me a ride to Nice and I walk from her bank to the old city. I spend the morning walking around the old city taking photographs. The light is not as good as last year. I found the same cafe that I had lunch in last year and order a pizza Oklahoma along with a demi carafe of vin rose. Seated next to me are an elderly German couple. After I had finished my meal and desert (cafe et tarte de pomme) I entertained them with magic. The wife really got into it.
I heartily recommend the French lunch. It is their main meal of the day and lasts at least a full hour. Most shops shut down for the lunch period. Just down from the cafe is a fruit and vegetable stand that closed at 1:00.
As I am writing this the table across from me has two Frenchmen sitting. One has a poodle on his lap. In France, dogs have as much rights as people. It is common to see dogs inside restaurants. Of course, the French keep their dogs cleaner than we keep our kids. The only problem with the dogs is that it is dangerous to stand still and it is dangerous to walk around. Standing still invites a dog to lift its leg on you, and walking around requires the utmost attention to where you place your feet.
I have decided that once I am independently wealthy this is the place I will settle in. The French I have seen know the meaning of life.
As I left the old city I happened upon a group of Frenchmen playing cards at a cafe. Seated at the next table were the women of the party. As I watched the game, which involved taking tricks, one of the woman said something about me photographing the table, jokingly. I smiled and said “non, mais. . .” and pulled out my own deck of cards and proceeded to perform some flourishes. After several displays of dexterity, they were all smiling, clapping and shouting “Bravo!” Another table of eight nearby begins watching and clapping, so I go over there and perform a couple of tricks.
While wandering around I meet another American taking photos as well. We stand together looking at a scene, not speaking. Then both start to say hello in French, not sure of the other’s nationality. Relief spreads when we realize that we both speak English. It is fun to try to communicate with people when you don’t speak the same language, but it does tend to limit the scope of the conversation.
After leaving the old city I wandered around Nice but didn’t see much to photo. I have noticed that there is something very “French” looking about the French. I love just sitting and watching them go by.
It is now 4:30 in the afternoon. I have pretty much followed my footsteps of last year. Fortunately it is not so hot this time. Last year I was here in August and the temperature was quite a bit higher. The light is not as good as I hoped for taking photos but I have fired off around 22 frames. I am now sitting outside at a restaurant having a beer. At least I think it is a beer. That is what I thought I ordered but this is the strangest tasting beer. At least it is wet.
I just looked at a menu on the wall of the restaurant and apparently I ordered a “specialities Bieres Belges” called “Gueuze Mort Subite.” If you ever have the opportunity to not order it, I wholeheartedly recommend you do so.
I returned to the bank at 5:30. Last year I met a friend of Michel and Vianeytte, a young woman named Yollanda. She is now working with Vianeytte in the bank. Last year she was working in Cannes, but with the Gulf war happening, the bank (Kuwait/French Bank) has had problems and shut down the Canne’s branch. Last year Yollanda was married to her 4th husband, but is now divorced. Vianeytte has invited Yollanda to dinner, so when we leave they ask me which car I want to go in.
Now it has been my limited experience that when you are given the choice of selecting between two women, for anything, you will end up losing. I think I “decided” to go with Yollanda. Yollanda is 36 years old and, as she admits, is a little crazy. Her English is quite good. Until her last marriage broke up she was living on her sailboat with her husband. When the marriage broke up, she wanted him to stay on the boat.
The party was wild. To give you some idea, remember that I do not dance. That evening I was swing dancing with Vianeytte and doing the LaBamba with Yollanda. The party broke up at 1:00 AM and I have to take Michel to the airport at 6:00 AM. Tomorrow is going to be rough. It is not going to be easy to wake up at 5:30. I will just throw on some clothes and after dropping Michel off, return home.
Yollanda will spend the night sleeping on the hide-a-bed in the living room, since she lives in Cannes and works in Nice. It doesn’t make sense for her to drive home to Cannes and then make the long drive to Nice. I offered to share my bed, but after some debate my offer was turned down.