or how we painted the town red and Brent ended up riding a bull in downtown Nice…
So yet again we found ourselves on the highway to adventure, not able to comprehend for a second that any other city could even come close to our last adventure. We were now off to the French Riviera, and we were ready to explode with the excitement.
Well some more than others. As the photos show, the sight you see was a familiar one, that all man and beast were to behold every time we stopped at a service station. For some reason, toilet facilities in Europe left a lot to be desired, and to top it off there were a lot more girls than men on the bus. The look of frustration on local women who had to wait at least 15 mins; as they waited in line after all the Top Deck girls, was not a pretty one
Hell hath no fury than a woman spurned… or one waiting in line to use the toilet.
Again as the photo shows, I had a nice thick double glazed window to protect me from the girls wrath, or I may not be sitting here writing this blog. Though, enough toilet humour for this blog, I digress.
Personally, I wanted to see if the French Riviera lived up to its name. I was not to be disappointed. The weather was perfect, and we found ourselves staying right in central Nice. As soon as we’d dropped off our bags at the hotel, our lovely tour guide Lia led us to dinner at a fabulous restaurant. We would learn many things from wise Lia on our trip – Lia was the one who taught us the technical term “der-ish-ous” – A term used to describe food so delicious, that a person would almost certainly be drooling while saying delicious – therefore the word coming out as “der-ish-ous”. The French local food at dinner was indeed “der-ish-ous”, and the matching wine doubly so.
After dinner we were led to our next evening activity. We arrived at Waynes Bar, where we were served by an Australian of all people who explained to us that it was compulsory to dance on tables once the music started. Hmm…. deja-vu? Memories of Barcelona immediately started rushing back. Before anymore could be said, Brent our illustrious leader (of trouble that is) flung himself on the tables and starting doing a gig – arms flailing everywhere – he was on fire, literally and metaphorically speaking. Well, when you see how red-faced he looked you’ll agree, that he indeed looked like he was on fire.
A few drinks later, the next Australian trouble maker took up Brents challenge, Ben “The Karate Kid” Morrow was going to show everyone how it was done. He put on his best game face, faced down Brent for a dance off and the status of Alpha-male. Now myself, never being one to turn down a chance to represent New Zealand and save our national pride, wasn’t going to have the Australians dominate the night. With a swift and cat like grace I pounced on the table, and started burning up the dance floor. In this case the dance floor was an extremely solid wooden table. Before deciding to save N.Z’s reputation, I had wisely (having learn from many injuries sustained in the past), utilised my detailed engineering knowledge (sure I did computer engineering, but it’s the same thing mostly…) and had thoroughly inspected the structural integrity of the table, to ensure that it could indeed handle the insane physics defying moves I was about to bestow upon it.
Before we knew it the entire tour group was on the tables, with a solidarity not seen since the ANZACs in WWII, which neatly brings me to the next part. There we were, representing Oceania, bringing the house down, on two of the three tables that the main area contained. At this point, it was getting quite crowded on our two tables, when I glanced over to the last table. The last remaining stronghold was held by a belligerent group of Germans who looked less than impressed with our high jinks. This would not do I decided, and after a quick pow-wow organised between the Three Musketeers (Brent, Ben and I), it was decided that the entrenched Germans on the Third Table would have to fall.
With a shrill war cry cutting through the reverberating night air, the Australians and New Zealanders (me at the forefront, and with my trusty 2nd in command Mary – who had more than held her own against the Spaniards back in Barcelona) charged/leapt onto the last table and gave the Germans a taste of our own Blitzkrieg. The unprepared Germans males were bowled over like stunned skittles, leaving their defenceless women for the taking. Triumphant, the bloody battle was over in moments, and the German women were up on the tables dancing with the victors.
Now one would presume that was the end of the night, but you’d be wrong. Surely there couldn’t be any more excitement? You forget I was with Brent “The Trouble Maker” Smith and Ben “The Karate Kid” Morrow. After being booted out of the bar at the end of the night (which was a disappointing 2 in the morning vs. Spain where I think they go all night) we decided to head back to home base. Along the way there was much round house kicking performed by Ben and shaking of heads by Brent and myself. All the while never suspecting that Brent was planning his next greatest escapade…
As we walked into the central square of Nice, Brent suddenly broke off from the formation, pirouetted and dove into the main square water fountain. Much to the applause of the rest of us, and like a demented monkey scrambled up the first statue he saw, which happened to be a bull (see pictures below). Thereby, firmly cementing his title of lead trouble maker of the group (which would continue to be cemented during the rest of our trip).
We adventured around the next day seeing all the beautiful sights and sounds of Nice, its beautiful beaches and lively markets. Visited Monaco, which apparently is the most dense country in the world? Hmm, I took offense to this, surely India wins this one? No, apparently now as I check it up on Wikipedia, it may have been 1st, but it is now 2nd after China. Hmm, Indians time to start making babies methinks.
For our next adventure we were to head off to beautiful Italy and beautiful Tuscany.
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