After a sleepless night fretting about getting heavy luggage down four flights of steps, we dragged ourselves out of bed at 6 a.m., nearly three full hours before dawn in Paris.
I was concerned about the coordination of having our luggage downstairs ready to be loaded, leaving one person in the apartment to monitor Uber’s progress via WiFi, which could not reach the ground level. Not to worry–Uber showed up precisely on time. I made one last run up the 42 steps, left the keys on the counter and slammed the door shut behind me, praying we had not forgotten anything in the apartment. If so, it was gone.
The Uber ride was short and cheap–6.94 to Gare Lyon. What a concept.
We were now a full hour and a half early, so all we could do was wait in the freezing cold train station. It was the coldest we have experienced in all our time in Paris.
After a most pleasant train ride down to the Mediterranean, we alighted in Nice, some five hours and a world removed from Paris.
The buildings have changed from gray stone to beige stucco, roof lines from slate covered Mansards to tiled gables, colors from the bright red of Paris awnings to the pastel blues and greens of window shutters. Palms and orange trees grow everywhere. Even on a cloudy day, the Mediterranean is three shades of blue as we drive along the Promenade de Anglais from the train station to our neighborhood in old Nice.