Menton
The train ride from Nice was a delight - an early morning ride with only a few locals commuting between Nice and Menton. This gave us lots of space to choose almost any seat we wanted, both of us selecting a window so we could watch the azure blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea just below the tracks.
Whoa! All of a sudden we were in the dark, snaking through one of the longest tunnels on the Mediterranean—for both cars and trains—bored through the mountain that is the rock on which Monte Carlo (in the Principality of Monaco) is perched. Money, money, money. The half dozen or so train stations on the Riviera between Nice and Menton are rather grungy by comparison to the subterranean upscale train station in Monaco.
Whoa! All of a sudden we were in the dark, snaking through one of the longest tunnels on the Mediterranean—for both cars and trains—bored through the mountain that is the rock on which Monte Carlo (in the Principality of Monaco) is perched. Money, money, money. The half dozen or so train stations on the Riviera between Nice and Menton are rather grungy by comparison to the subterranean upscale train station in Monaco.
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| March in Menton on the Med, the Baie du Soliel |
Train arrival in Menton with lots of luggage was not fun. 'Lots of luggage' is a relative term, I suppose. How does one pack lightly for a 4 1/2 month trip in France, spanning cool, wet spring and hot summer, much of which is with a car and longish stays at places; then Paris. I could write a new reality chapter for Rick Steves.
The super-organized SCNF did not include escalators in the Menton train station. The several flights of escaliers (stairs) are formidable.
Short cab ride to a terrific, newly renovated 2nd-floor apartment on Rue de la Piéta, a short pedestrian-only street in the centre of the old town, 2 streets from the Med. We were greeted by Candice, and so started our first full week in France.
Having a place with cooking facilities and being partners who know how to buy locally and cook well in a foreign tongue on strange appliances saves some money and adds to the mystery of being here.
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| Quai Napoléon lll |
A couple of windy and wet days and we were in the perfect temperature for travellers—the low to mid-20s (Celsius).
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| Place Georges Clemence |
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| Louis Laurent, Republican Mayor (1885 -96), stands forever tall in front of the Marie (City Hall) 
The rain and wind kept the boats in the marina for our first two days ...
... and patrons, from the cafe terraces.
March is noticeably off-season, and because of this, we find many places are not yet open or are short-staffed with less than full menus or services available. The upside of being here now is there are so few tourists around that there are no lineups, everything is discounted, we are treated more special, and there are no crowds in front of my camera lens.
Menton is known for many things, particularly, the citrus festival, which we missed by one week. Too bad, it is quite spectacular. All we got to see was a headless Elvis during cleanup.
 France's easternmost city on the Mediterranean also has some stunning architecture—everything from the medieval to art deco, to avant-garde. 
the covered market ...
  the winter palaces.
On one of our daily walkabouts, while taking a photo in the old city, I was stopped by a woman who suggested the next old doorway was much more interesting. She asked Joanne and me in for a coffee, and to meet her husband. We accepted and were given wonderful hospitality by these complete strangers. This well-maintained old building was once the winter home of King Leopold of Belgium and Queen Victoria, with her retinue of 100 staff.
  Our hostess had just completed the painting of a trompe l'oeil inside their apartment doorway.  what my lens saw on the street passageway of the Jean Cocteau Museum
The weather improved and we began to walk 'till we dropped. This is always healthy, and in our case, a necessity in order to walk off the extra calories from all the great new French foods, and wines that we've been enjoying.
  The huge botanical garden, Val Rahmeh east of the city, was an exercise in marathon hillside walking brought on largely by navigational errors, due partly to the lost in translation phenomenon. On the one hand, we took a wrong turn; on the other, the old lady who sold us tickets for the excursion directed us to tour the vast—almost 3-hectare—preserve, rather than the shortest route through it back to the city, like we had asked. At the end of the day, we were in need of a greater-than-ever intake of rich food and an abundance of red wine.
The next day we were ready to tackle the vieux ville with its steep, narrow, and rough-surfaced streets.
Next posting on Menton, some spirits, and the market at Ventimiglia, Italy.
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