A few weeks ago I took my camera to Boulevard Garnier, an east-west street north of Nice’s city center. I walk it occasionally to go to the Libération open-air market, and had noticed some beautiful mosaics on apartment entries. The one shown above is a closeup of this mosaic, leading to beautiful wooden doors. It was done by the mosaic cutter and setter Zanussi, as well as this scrolling vine mosaic just down the street.

There’s a more modest art deco mosaic in my building’s entrance, and back on Boulevard Garnier, this “Provence” mosaic, done in a very different style:

On this day in 1860, the French flag replaced the duchy of Savoy flag for the first time in Nice. Today that event was celebrated with parachutists and a performance by the Patrouille de France, one of the world’s oldest aerobatic demonstration teams, formed in 1931. I grew up watching air shows at our local airport, and once saw the Blue Angels perform, so I was very much looking forward to today’s festivities. My expectations were far exceeded — the Patrouille de France, led by Virginie Guyot, the first woman ever (in the world) to lead an aerobatic demonstration team, was breathtaking, especially over the background of a particularly beautiful Mediterranean.

Despite there being quite the crowd, I was able to find a spot near the beach and Place Albert 1er, which was where the performances were set to take place. First, a group of 35 parachutists dropped into a formation supposed to be “150″, though we spectators had a hard time making it out in the blazing sun. They landed not far from where I was. Then it was time for the Patrouille de France’s performance.

They took off from Nice’s airport, their smoke trails on, and impressed us all with their first crowd fly-by. I ended up taking loads of photos, which you can browse in this set. My favorite is above, and the following are pretty nice too:
o Smoke trails over the Baie des Anges, showing the beautiful blues the Mediterranean decided to wear today. She doesn’t often look like this!
o Landing approach simulation also shows the gorgeous blues in the sea, and one of the Patrouille de France’s Alpha Jets flying with its landing gear down.
o Concorde formation!
o Threading the needle, although the literal translation of the description given by the announcer would be “flying through the center of a triangle”.
o This formation was neat as well, since the planes were constantly changing position.
o A star for the final formation.

Today’s festivities began with the removal of the bell cast yesterday night. While we waited for Estrosi, mayor of Nice (and also minister of industry), the clamps were removed from the mold, and we watched flags being thrown over a background of drum and fife music. Once Estrosi arrived, the mold removal could begin. The manager of Paccard explained that to help the bell dislodge from its mold, the casing needed to be hammered. He presented the hammer to Estrosi for “a first few strikes,” but once Estrosi had started, he kept going, despite polite requests from Paccard workers to let them take over. After a few minutes of hammering, the bell was finially dislodged and it came out of its mold. It was covered in residue, which Paccard workers began to remove. Estrosi posed for another photo, then workers sandblasted and polished the bell.The finished bell will resemble its two sisters, also cast for the 150th anniversary of Nice joining France.

While the bell was being sandblasted and polished, a large group of chefs were cooking for all who dared approach. It was less chaotic than I had expected, but there was still plenty of jostling as people tried their best to get at the free food on offer. I managed to get three dishes: a socca salad, then “Niçois sushi”, and finally a mango sorbet with chopped strawberries and basil, with a strawberry coulis. One of the many other dishes prepared was stockfish, which, of course, originates from Norway. How did it become a specialty in Nice? Norwegian sailors would bring stockfish to Nice and exchange it for olive oil, quite simply! After most of the food had been given out, techno was put on the speakers and our chefs danced onstage.

Tomorrow, the bell that was finished today will be formally presented to the City of Nice and blessed by a church representative, since it’s for Notre Dame. (“Notre Dame” simply means “our lady”, so there are several churches and cathedrals named Notre Dame throughout France.)

To start the festivities surrounding the 150th anniversary of Nice joining France, Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” was performed, followed by a traditional church bell casting. The bell shall be for Nice’s Notre Dame church, and was cast by the Fonderie Paccard. Paccard is from Sévrier, on the Lac d’Annecy in Savoy, the duchy of which Nice had been a member. Their bells were, and still are, so well-known that before Savoy joined France, Paccard exported bells to France, as well as to many other countries, including the USA.

The oven was turned on at 5 this morning, with a 78% copper and 12% tin mix (to make bronze), with some phosphorous added while we watched the casting this evening at 10. The finished bell will weigh 225 kilos and ring a C#, or “do dièse” since they refer to musical notes using solfege in French, and have a fixed “do”. The head of Paccard mentioned that the largest bell they ever made weighed 33 metric tonnes, and can be found in an American church. After adding the phosphorous and waiting a few minutes, the caster took the temperature of the heated alloy: 1100 degrees Celsius (or about 2012 degrees Fahrenheit), “perfect for a bell this size,” said the manager. Then a sample was taken and cooled. The first one didn’t look, feel or sound right, giving a tinny, weak buzz when tapped, so a second sample was taken a few minutes later. We could all hear the difference when the manager tapped on it: this sample rang a clear note. Then the caster began to pour the molten alloy into the mold below, which only lasted a few seconds, but was quite the sight to behold! Once it was over, the manager invited us to return tomorrow for the bell’s removal and polishing tomorrow at noon. I’m looking forward to hearing what this bell sounds like.

300-odd years ago, Nice was not part of France, but part of the Duchy of Savoy, and later the Kingdom of Sardinia-Piedmont. Duchy of Savoy territories were the last to join France, their annexation in the 1860 Treaty of Turin ratified by a hotly-contested vote that is still the subject of debate today. Calls for secession from France continue, by authors such as Alain Roullier and groups like Liberà Nissa and the harder-right Nissa Rebela, which I photographed for a “politically incorrect” topic in a recent competition here. (The winner was a photograph of someone using a French flag as toilet paper, to put it politely. When that caused an uproar, the winner was stripped of their prize, which was then given to a photograph of a pregnant woman holding a burning cigarette in front of her stomach. All I can say is that if those were the types of photos they were looking for, I’m glad I didn’t win.)

Amidst this debate, celebrations for Nice’s 150th year as part of France are set for this weekend, beginning Friday evening with a traditional bell-casting for the Notre Dame church here. Festivities will end with a flyover by the Patrouille de France on Monday, the day the French flag was raised over the Palais des Ducs de Savoie, today known as the Palais de la Préfecture in Vieux Nice (Old Nice). I’m going to try to make it to all the events and hope to blog them every day from this Friday to next Monday.

After an interminable winter of rain — and I say that as a native Oregonian who enjoys the rain! — the sun has finally begun to emerge from the clouds, and plants are finally growing. Ever since October we’ve had dark, windy, rainy, and even snowy weather the likes of which no one has seen in living memory. It was so dark that my daffodils and irises never bloomed; so much colder than usual that seeds that typically sprout in March have only begun to grow just now. And yet we’re still getting rain every day, with very rare exceptions. (Every. Single. Day.)

This winter I bought a few pumpkins to make pumpkin soup. With the last two, I realized that since they were organic, I could try planting their seeds. I figured that only some of them would sprout… well, all of them have! And I planted four! What am I going to do with four full-size pumpkin plants? For now I’ve repotted two of the seedlings in a planter; the other two are already in pots that should keep them happy for another month or so. Provençal pepper seeds I planted a month ago have just begun to sprout as well, and I’m looking forward to tasting them in autumn.

Renovation on my apartment is continuing too. I started pulling up linoleum in the entry last week, and have nearly finished. It will be nice to have an entry no longer in a state of flux.

Spring has finally begun here, with the arrival of cherry and wisteria blossoms. I took photos of the pink and purple flowers near my home just an hour ago.

In photo-related news, recently a picture I took of the reimbursement statements we get for health care here was linked in a Wired article, which was soon after taken up by The Guardian, in a writeup aptly titled “Stories of healthcare heartbreak hidden away on Flickr”. As a reminder, my photo was part of a post I wrote here on French health care basics.

Today the Fnac, which is a French chain of stores that sell multimedia, books and music, held a “photo marathon” in Nice. I signed up a few weeks ago, thinking it would be nice to get some challenging ideas, plus registration was free. The day started at 9am, and we were given three themes on which to shoot photos, one every two hours. There were three hundred of us in all, and we had to turn in two photos per team (I was a one-person team, most were two-person) after the two hours. The prizes were some Canon cameras; I forget which since I didn’t participate with winning in mind (plus I’ve always preferred Nikon). All participants got a free cinema ticket, which is nice with movies so expensive to see nowadays. The themes were “le reflet dans tous ses états” (“reflection every which way”), “de haut en bas, de bas en haut” (“from top to bottom, from bottom to top,” which I translated to keep puns on “haut”, up, and “bas”, down, also being able to mean items of clothing), and “politiquement incorrect”. I was a little disappointed that they were so generic, since I’d been hoping for topics specific to Nice, but it was fun nonetheless.

The photo above is not one submitted to the contest, but is similar to one that I used for a theme. I took other non-theme-related photos as well, since it was a beautiful day today. At the Villa Arson, which is a museum on a hill in the north of Nice, there were two huge, ancient olive trees; I photographed one of them. Olive trees can live for more than a thousand years, and considering the size of that one’s trunk, it’s likely to be at least a few hundred years old. A bit younger and livelier, a friendly kitty let me photograph her/him after I introduced myself. After leaving the Villa Arson, I noticed two neat homes nearby.

This will come as a bit of a surprise to readers, since I never mentioned it before, wanting to keep quiet until I knew for certain. This morning I had an interview for obtaining French citizenship at the préfecture in Nice. It went very well, and the préfet’s representative told me that there was no valid reason to refuse my application. In legal French, and in the context of the naturalisation for which I’d applied, this means it will be accepted by the Ministry in charge of naturalisations. That will take about a year, as the representative also told me.

Of his own accord, he also pointed out that the process had gone surprisingly fast. Indeed, I had applied around the start of November last year, and received notice of my interview at the end of January. The préfet’s representative explained that it was because the police investigation had gone quickly. “I can’t remember the last time I got a police report so soon after requesting one,” he laughed, then he asked me, “did the police ever contact you or visit you?” I answered “no, but I’m often in contact with them, ha! I have a dangerous neighbor, so I call them a lot.” Continuing with the joke, the man pulled out the police report and chuckled, “well, they say they have no idea who you are!” In French legalese, “ne pas être connu”, “to not be known” by the police means that you have no criminal record. The man interviewing me even added another layer of word play when he saw that I’d understood the joke, saying “et bien, on peut rajouter que le français ne vous est pas étranger !” In English, “well, I can add that French isn’t foreign to you!” It was nice to have met with someone easy-going.

That said, I’ve almost always dealt with easy-going public employees in France. At the tax office, train station (SNCF), post office (which is where I’ve met the grumpy ones), prefecture, city police, national police — they’ve nearly all been helpful and even funny. I’ll never forget the towering gendarme (national policeman) in my living room who, after he’d recognized my violent neighbor was indeed a danger to others, and after I’d showed photos of excrement she kept putting on my patio, said in his booming, authoritative voice, totally deadpan, “En effet. Mademoiselle, on peut dire que vous êtes dans la merde.” “Indeed. Miss, it could be said that you’re in a shitty situation.”

In addition to having a new home country, my home apartment became much more welcoming this weekend, with the addition of a sofa and two matching chairs, shown in this entry’s photo. On Saturday, I went to my favorite brocante, secondhand shop, to look for a small end table. In the window was a gorgeous forest green leather Chesterfield, but well out of my budget range. Further inside, I noticed a sofa and chairs set with oddly-styled arms; curved wood over an upholstered arm, but the wood “floated” over the upholstery. I love clean, curved lines on furniture. Furthermore, it looked like the pieces were narrow enough to fit through my living room door frame, which is just 75cm/30 inches wide. I checked their price, expecting something in the 300-500 euro range. 50 euros — fifty! “Oh dear, something must be terribly wrong with them,” I thought, and so I looked around the rest of the store. Finding no end tables I liked, I returned to the living room set. “At that price, I might as well try them out and check them over,” I told myself. They were in perfect condition, and incredibly comfortable, with firm springs. They were in such good condition, in fact, that I had no idea what period they could possibly be from, since they obviously weren’t contemporary, but not antique, either. I measured their depth: 70 centimeters (27″). Perfect. I bought them. Delivery cost as much as they did, and in another stroke of luck, I’d bought them ten minutes before the delivery van arrived for its afternoon round — they kindly delivered them the very same day!

Once home, I photographed the sofa and the two chairs, and submitted a question to one of my favorite sites, ApartmentTherapy. “What style are these chairs and sofa? Commenters all agreed: 1940s French Art Deco! My apartment building is Art Deco too, and was built in 1953. My living area truly is d’époque, period, and I didn’t even do it on purpose! I am very glad to finally have a couch after two years without, and the kitties are happy too.

On Wednesday (the 10th), we got news that a strong winter weather system was heading our way. Dozens of inches of snow were predicted for the hills, and up to six inches along the coastline — never before seen on the French Riviera. We get snow once every few years, but it’s usually a dusting, like we had in December, and melts by noon.

Thursday morning, I woke up to 4°C (39°F) and rain. I decided to try for the bus, and put on my nice hiking boots, wool socks, a turtleneck, and a wool knit cap, as well as taking along a pair of gloves just in case. I figured that if the bus came, it meant the weather was fine at our offices in Sophia Antipolis, some 28 kilometers (17 miles) to the west of Nice. The bus did indeed come; when we arrived in Sophia an hour later, it was raining there too.

Until just before 11am, that is. Snow began to fall, but it was still above freezing, so it wasn’t really sticking. Then the temperature began to dip, and the snow started picking up. By 11:30, the snow had built up noticeably. Roads quickly became blocked. The buses were no longer running. Not long afterwards, our prefect formally forbade drivers from going on the roads, and the highways were closed. Weather reports said that the worst was still to come in the evening! At 4:30pm I took the photo above, as well as a few others (full photoset here), and then my reflex’s battery died.

With roads still closed, buses not running and the news continuing to report a larger storm front about to roll in, I realized I was probably going to spend the night at the office. When I joked about camping in front of my office radiator with another colleague, he mentioned that he lived 8 kilometers (about 5 miles) away and was going to walk home — he offered to let me eat and sleep at his place. His children were with their grandparents, so there would be a spot for me without a problem. I took him up on his offer. In addition to working together, we often cross each other’s paths on the trails at lunch time — he goes running, and I go mountain biking. So we both knew we’d be fine with the 8-kilometer hike through snow.

It turned out to be one of the most beautiful hikes in my life. We passed the Mougins golf course, Fontmerle lagoon, and Picasso’s former home. Just as we passed the sign pointing to Picasso’s home, the setting sun set afire the Estérel coastal range beneath the grey storm clouds. I took these photos with my mobile phone, since it was the only camera we had available. A few minutes later, we looked behind us and had our breath taken away again, this time by the all-encompassing ink blue that was enveloping the Pré-Alpes just to the north of us. To the south, the sunset skies had transformed into pinks, purples and blues.

The next morning, it was below freezing, so we set out to walk the 8 kilometers back. It was more dangerous than on Thursday, since melting snow had frozen. We both had to catch ourselves from slipping a few times, but thanks to our trusty hiking shoes, we made it to the offices safely. Along the way, I took more photos (reminder, full photoset) and shot two videos:
o Etang de Fontmerle in the snow and morning sun
o Trail after the Mougins golf course, about a kilometer from Sophia Antipolis

Luckily the weather warmed up on Friday and I was finally able to get home by bus. There’s no more snow in Nice, but it is still falling heavily in the back country! And today I made sure to get some nice chocolates for my kind colleague.