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| Looking down the street of our apartment. |
We followed Rocky and Frank up the 90 steps from front door to apartment door. The building is 200 years old. The inside steps are wide and slanted like something you would see in a Harry Potter movie. My legs still burned from the Cinque Terre. I wondered what kind of 5 day future was beyond the triple locked door of the apartment.
Any flaws that my critical eye might spy disappeared with my attention going straight to the tall windows that opened to the narrow street below. I peered across and down to the faded apartment buildings. The restaurants and people below hummed an inviting tune.
Every ten steps there is either a restaurant, a clothing shop, a candy store, a gelaterie, a bakery....the list is endless. Old Town Nice is dripping with atmosphere and we are smack dab in the middle of it and I can't drink the charm in fast enough. We spend the evening walking through the narrow streets meant only for pedestrians, scooters and the occasional delivery truck. The neighborhood is alive. We stroll along eating gelato and hoping to find our way back home. I can't wait to do laundry so I can hang out the window and fasten it to the line. If I drop any it will land on a red awning four stories below or if I'm not so lucky into someone's dinner. I imagine a sock, in slow motion, floating through the air and dropping into someone's ravioli.
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| The apartment door |
The next morning I can't get up fast enough and out the door so I can run along the beach. Finally a flat, smooth, safe surface-- the sea on one side and the city on the other.
The path left of the palm trees is where everybody runs, walks, cycles or rollerblades. It was fun to be in the mix of it all. I felt like I could have run forever, but as usual I'm running against the clock. Some people seemed to be inspired by the waves of the sea and athleticism of others. I saw two older ladies, probably in their 80's, walking towards me and one says to the other, "Come on, let's run." Next, I saw a little Asian lady running towards me with tights, a skirt, blouse and mary-jane shoes. We shared a smile and then I saw her again on the flip-flop. But the funniest was a guy I was running behind. He was walking in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a pair of loafers. He looked to be in his 20's and walked like a football player or wrestler, about 6' 3" in stature. I could see his head turn every time a guy ran or cycled towards him. I was making up a story in my mind about how he wanted others to know he was an athlete too, but he didn't dress the part that morning. Anyway, about 10 minutes later I forgot all about that story and was on to another, I had stopped to walk and Mr. Jeans came running past me! I was right! He couldn't help himself, he had to show others he was an athlete too, or perhaps he was inspired by the sea.
Later that morning the kids and I left Dennis to work while we headed to the beach.
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| Throwing rocks suited Raleigh just fine. |
We watched loads of people come to the beach in their work clothes, change discretely into their swimsuits, enjoy the water for 5 to 15 minutes and then change back into their work clothes and leave. Wow, what a way to spend your lunch break. Almost like a half hour of therapy.
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| Braving the chill |
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| Creative picture, Annie! |
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| Annie takes the waves on solo. |
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"Mom, mom, mom, air pane, air pane."
The view from our apartment window
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Every ten steps there is either a restaurant, a clothing shop, a candy store, a gelaterie, a bakery....the list is endless. Old Town Nice is dripping with atmosphere and we are smack dab in the middle of it and I can't drink the charm in fast enough. We spend the evening walking through the narrow streets meant only for pedestrians, scooters and the occasional delivery truck. The neighborhood is alive. We stroll along eating gelato and hoping to find our way back home. I can't wait to do laundry so I can hang out the window and fasten it to the line. If I drop any it will land on a red awning four stories below or if I'm not so lucky into someone's dinner. I imagine a sock, in slow motion, floating through the air and dropping into someone's ravioli.
The path left of the palm trees is where everybody runs, walks, cycles or rollerblades. It was fun to be in the mix of it all. I felt like I could have run forever, but as usual I'm running against the clock. Some people seemed to be inspired by the waves of the sea and athleticism of others. I saw two older ladies, probably in their 80's, walking towards me and one says to the other, "Come on, let's run." Next, I saw a little Asian lady running towards me with tights, a skirt, blouse and mary-jane shoes. We shared a smile and then I saw her again on the flip-flop. But the funniest was a guy I was running behind. He was walking in jeans, a long sleeve shirt and a pair of loafers. He looked to be in his 20's and walked like a football player or wrestler, about 6' 3" in stature. I could see his head turn every time a guy ran or cycled towards him. I was making up a story in my mind about how he wanted others to know he was an athlete too, but he didn't dress the part that morning. Anyway, about 10 minutes later I forgot all about that story and was on to another, I had stopped to walk and Mr. Jeans came running past me! I was right! He couldn't help himself, he had to show others he was an athlete too, or perhaps he was inspired by the sea.
Darling photos and fantastic stories sis (still imagining prospect of the sock floating from the clothesline four stories up and landing on a plate of raviolis below. Can't wait for your next installment.
ReplyDeleteP.S. I would love a bag of those lovely stones from the beach.