we'll always have Paris...or Nice

Mr. T grew up in Paris and I'm not gonna lie, hearing him speak French was quite sexy and certainly one of the big appeals when I first met him in college. 

Of course, like most American girls who are too stupid to learn a second language, my one line of French got his attention too. Think Lady Marmalade and an inappropriate thing to say to someone you barely know. I can still see the look on his face when I said it.

Because of certain issues, we didn't get to visit Paris until we'd been together for 16 years. During that time, I had developed a teeny, tiny, major obsession with Paris and the Eiffel Tower that has never really gone away.

My first trip to Paris came about because Mr. T had a business trip there in January and I just invited myself along. I found a good airfare for the same flight he was already booked on and figured it wouldn't cost any extra for hotel and I promised not to eat much. He was shocked when I first mentioned it, it took him some time to process it (Mr. Spontaneity he was not) and then he smiled and I knew I was going to Paris!

It was an awesome trip, cold (because it was January) and I actually have pictures somewhere. I will share more about that trip another time but right now I want to talk about a memory from our second trip.

We had an anniversary coming up that summer and Mr. T took it upon himself to plan a 2 week trip to celebrate. He did it all himself, picked the dates, our flights, our lodging, our locations, everything.

I'd love to say that I was totally appreciative but I can't lie - I didn't like not being in control of the plans. I probably wasn't as gracious about it as I could have been, possibly I was a little grumpy but eventually I realized this meant a lot to him and I sat back and enjoyed letting him have the fun of planning.

Our lodging in Paris was perfectly nice, kind of a little studio apartment in the Chatelet - Les Halles district, near a Pizza Hut (where we never ate) and a Moroccan restaurant (where we did.) We had a fantastic time in Paris for a few days and then we flew down to Nice to see the famous Riviera.

Our hotel in Nice was not so nice. It was supposed to be another studio apartment but it was just a big square room with one tiny little window. It was summer and it was hot and the hotel didn't have any air conditioning. The whole room had that dank inside of a non-working refrigerator feel and smell. I shudder to think about it even all these years later.

We went out for dinner and walked around until very late at night, somehow hoping the room would have cooled down by then but no, if anything it was worse. 

I'm a pretty easy going traveler and I take things in stride, always trying to make the best of every situation. Not this time. I was hot and sticky and uncomfortable and generally out of sorts. We couldn't even sleep because it was so awful in that room.

Mr. T didn't really say much, just kept looking through the phone book. At dawn he said he was going out for a walk. I was being such a grumpus, I don't even think I did more than grunt at him as he walked out the door. I'm amazed he even came back and didn't just leave me there in not so nice Nice.

But come back he did. He threw open the door and told me to gather up my suitcases because he had a taxi waiting.

He wouldn't tell me where we were going but he had that little mischievous grin that I loved so much so I knew he was up to something.

We pulled up at a big hotel on the Promenade des Anglais and walked right in, suitcases in hand, and got on the elevator. I kept looking at him, asking what's going on, and he would shush me and tell me all would be revealed in time. 

We stopped at a high floor and walked into a corner room with floor to ceiling windows with the most gorgeous view of the coastline and ocean. Best of all - the room was deliciously cool! OMG, I was so happy and just couldn't stop smiling.

Mr. T had walked all over Nice, stopping in at hotels to ask if they had air conditioning. When he found this one, he knew it was perfect and he booked a room right then and there for the rest of our stay. He was pretty proud of himself, rightfully so.

The hotel not only had blessed air conditioning and amazing views but it was also right across the street from Vieux Nice, the old part of the city. Being a big history buff, this was, of course, my favorite place to hang out throughout our trip and it had the best ice cream/gelato stores.I found a favorite flavor that I've never really found the equivalent of in the US and darn it, I can't remember the name. I know it had "de lait" in the name. It's similar to Dulce de Leche but way, way better. This is right when I would turn to Mr. T and ask him what it was and I know he would remember. Makes me tear up right now knowing that I can never ask him again.

But this is a time for happy memories. Mr. T really turned the trip around and I was happy, happy, happy for the rest of it. I will always remember it as the trip where I discovered how much I love cherries. We were walking down the street one night and some woman came out of a little store with a bag of cherries. She looked right at us and said "aren't you so happy when it's cherry season?" and thrust the bag in our direction and told us to take some. She was right, they were the most delicious cherries ever and I've been a big fan of cherry season ever since. I kind of go a little crazy over it and it all started in Nice. I think of her every year and remember that magical night. Our time in Nice hadn't started out so well but it became lovely and perfect all because Mr. T knew how to fix anything.

All too soon we had to head back to Paris for the final part of our trip. There are some funny stories from then but I'll save that for another time.

Au revoir y'all