I have a love/hate relationship with Old Nice: the winding network of cobbled streets and vividly-colored shutters are crowded with terrace tables and slow-walking tourists. For seven months, I lived on the edge of Place Garibaldi: overlooking the...
Confession: I spent a week in Nice and didn’t do one cultural activity, unless you count drinking rosé and eating pissaladiere. Instead, I went to the beach. Instead, I went to the beach. I went to beaches with pebbles, beaches with sand, beaches...