Cheaper than the Fung Wah

October 15, 2010

Today, we took a bus trip to Antibes.  The guidebooks indicate that Antibes is much nicer than St. Tropez.  Actually, it is not anything at all like St. Tropez.  It is more like it's sister city, Nice, in that it is a city next to the sea.  It is a real city with everything that a city has including a rapid transit system, lots of banks, lots of businesses and rush hour.


Unlike most cities, it also has multimillion dollar yachts in its harbor.  Here are some of the much smaller ones:

                               

We caught the bus just a few short blocks from the apartment and paid our 1E each to go for almost an hour through several towns and along quite a lot of gorgeous waterfront.  What a bargain.  Of course, we did have to stand most of the way because there were a number of other tourists who thought it to be a splendid idea to go to Antibes today. 

When we arrived, it took us a few minutes to get oriented on our tourist map.  Supposedly, there is a walking tour, but when I asked about it at the tourist info, the gentleman at the desk ignored my question and gave me a regular map.  He spoke English to us, so I can only assume that he understood my request.  Oh well, Rick Steves got one when he asked for it, and I'm pretty sure that he asked in English also.

After a relatively short walk along the city wall which also happens to follow the sea, we took a few pictures of the old part of town and then went inland a couple of blocks to the market to find some lunch.

Here is the view we saw from the wall.

While on our walk around the wall, we saw some kids getting sailing lessons in these colorful little sailboats.  They were apparently all doing very well, because they remained in formation with no one faltering.
               

We found a spot near the marina to eat our take-out sandwiches (in France, they spell it "sandwichs") and take a brief rest before moving along the waterside.  Just on the other side of the marina, through a set of arches that extended out into the water and formed  breakwater for the marina, was the beach.  We spent a couple of hours on the beach and Larry went in the water, since he had worn his suit under his clothes.  Knowing that I only go in the water when the temperature is blasting, I left my suits in the US.  In our apartment, we had found some straw mats for the beach, so we had something to lie down on.  We had a couple of very restful hours, listening to the various languages and regional English accents.  This would have been a great day for my new tee-shirts bought last week for just this occasion.  But, when we left this morning, it really seemed a bit cool.

                              


On our way back to the bus stop, we decided to take a detour and visit the postcard museum.   This museum did not even get a mention in any of the guidebooks that we have, but I saw a flyer for it in the tourist info earlier in the day.  The museum did not take up  much space, just the size of a small apartment, maybe.  The price of admission (2.50 euros) also included a personalized guided tour by the owner of the museum.  The cards dated back as early as 1865.  For postcard collectors,this would be heaven.  For mere tourists like me, it was fascinating. 


He had postcards of every description possible -- printed, hand-colored, photographs, original artwork, drawings, you name it.  He also had quite an array of "mechanical" postcards that had moving parts, like children's books do.  Some postcards were sequential, and the recipient would hope to collect the whole series; some were meant to be collected and the whole batch of 10 cards, when put together would form another picture. 


Some celebrated events (New Year's 1900), some celebrated technical advances (the telephone), some were for lovers to each other, some were for birthdays, some were political, some were risque.  Some of the cards had covers that resembled envelopes.  Some cards folded in half with the address on the outside.
There must have been a couple thousand cards.  The owner of this private museum lead us around the small exhibit area, patiently telling us in French and English about each series of cards.
I was a bit less than lukewarm about going there at the end of the day, but I certainly enjoyed it.  I'm sure that some of these cards are really priceless -- like the one (of which there are only two extant) that has a recording on it.  He actually played a recorded card for us.  It had a well-known French children's song on it.  The French people on our "tour" recognized it instantly.


So, we spent the day going to one of the most well-known places on the French Riviera and the only thing that interested me was the lowly, unappreciated postcard museum.


After another euro each for the bus back, we were back in our apartment.  We had a wonderful dinner of ravioli stuffed with mushrooms in a mushroom and cream sauce (divine) and a superb salad.  Delicious. 
If only I had more energy, I would walk the block to the Promenade and sit and watch the waves lap up on the stone beach.  Perhaps in the two evenings that we have left we will make it to the Promenade to watch the sun set across the Mediterranean.  That should be worth the price of admission right there.  I'm a big fan of sunsets.