I started the day with a run. After a couple trips up and down "les collines des grenouilles" (the hill here at the farm), I realized I was not in farmer shape. So I got up at 6:30, put on some under armour and started running. I would love to run around my neighborhood, but there are no sidewalks. So I wore a flashlight on my wrist and ran to the bus stop. By 7:30 the sun still wasn't up and I was running along la promenade des anglais. It was chilly when I wasn't running, but once I got moving I was fine.
The water has a Caribbean-Blue glow to it, even in the morning. The term Cote d'Azur really is perfect. I ran along the beach and ended up at the port of Nice, which is probably where about half the pictures you see of Nice come from. There is a man made barrier wall jutting out from the coast to protect the harbor (and the trillion dollar yachts therein). I decided to climb out along the wall. Starting from the mediterranean and working inward, there are huge cement blocks, followed by an uneven stone walkway, followed by the 20 foot wall, and then you get to the harbor. After going out far enough on the uneven walkway (sheltered by cement blocks and the wall on either side) I encountered an odd cluster of colorful mounds. Upon closer inspection, the mounds were homeless people in different colored sleeping bags which were then covered with clear(ish) tarps. My first thought was "What a great idea!!!". If it were a little warmer then this would be a beautiful, free, and probably illegal place to sleep. My second and third thoughts were "I better not wake them" and "I should go". I clambered out a little further and found a warning (in french) on one of the big cement blocks: "To the #$%@ who stole my iPhone, I will find you, and I will steal your eyes". I couldn't resist making the "an eye for an iPhone makes the world blind" joke, and then clambered a little faster as it became clear that the makeshift village was full of very clever, and very vengeful, hobos.
I saw some really great buildings and monuments on the run, but I was running so no camera, sorry. I was drawn further along by the view of a castle in the distance perched atop one of the seaside cliffs. I'll definitely get a picture of this later. I could see a pathway leading up to it and figured it was well worth the climb. Unfortunately it turned out to be restricted access, probably belonging to the billionaire who owned all the yachts.
I ran home after buying some milk and butter.
At the bus stop, I understood the lady who started complaining about how late the bus was! Admittedly I wasn't a very complex conversationalist, but she didn't stop to ask if I was stupid or american or both which is progress.
Back at my hut I built a fire immediately, it is noticeably colder up here than it is along the coast. I took the best hot shower in the smallest bathroom I've ever been in (approximate volume 54 cubic feet). I then did some tidying up, trying to make the hut my home. It really is a beautiful place to live, but it's clearly a spring/summer home that hasn't learned what insulation or HVAC are. I then skyped with some cute american girl and sent some e-mails to some prestigious american institutions of higher learning, and then was interrupted by Jean-Louis.
He was very hesitant to disturb me. I know he is just respecting the privacy of the woofers, indeed on the first day he explained that he and his wife "will never come down here" now that a woofer is living there. It just seemed a little strange to me that he was asking my permission so politely to enter his property.
Anyway he had two things to say. One was that I could help myself to the lettuce. It's about the only thing sort of in season right now, and I have free access to it. Score?
Secondly, I am going to work tomorrow! We are going to the upper farm to prep the field for planting. His farm has two loci, one with the houses and the wwoofer hut and the animals and the lettuce. There is a mysterious upper portion that I haven't been to, but we are going there to get ready to plant grapes. The french call grapes "table raisins" (raisin de table, http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raisin_de_table) if they aren't going to be used for wine, but they are still grapes not raisins.
Jean-Louis was on his way to Nice to buy a book that tracks moon cycles, so you can plant at the right time.
And I found some raw tequila (below). Good Night!
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