Phew!  It's a warm one today, but not warm enough to stop me from enjoying my last (sniff sniff!) day on the coast.  I want to find a charming village and go on a photo safari, so I head to the press office
where Lucy, Beatrice. Laurre and Alex have been so helpful.

They suggest I go to a small village called Biot, just a few miles up the coast and built on top of an ancient hill, overlooking the River Brague. They're nice enough to arrange for wonderful guy Christian to
drive me there....and I'm happy to find my way back by bus. It's an experience I want anyway, to see how the locals get around.

30 minutes later, Christian drops me off in the center of Biot. It's
breathtaking.  So old that traces of populations dating back to
prehistoric times have been found here.  Today, what you mostly find is
beauty.  Stone homes and ateliers bursting with flowers and plants, and
small galleries full of hand-blown glasswares. (Called the art of
Verrerie here).

Now I'm wishing I'd brought a larger suitcase so I could bring home some
of these beautiful things for my friends and family.  But post cards
will always fit, so I buy a dozen, and then commence on my photo safari.


The older part of Biot houses a pretty square surrounded by arcades
(diagonal ribbing from the 13th and 14th centuries) and a Norman church
with beautiful altarpieces, including "The Virgin with Rosaries" by L.
Brea.

In the main street you can also visit the chapel of Sainte-Anne...with
its gracious stained-glass windows and an entire scene comprised of
doll-sized clay figures backed by a midnight-blue sky, depicting the
night Jesus of Nazareth was born. It's very peaceful here, out of the
sun, and surrounded by candles.  I linger.

Back outside there are dozens of charming, tiny shops to explore; filled
with Provencale tablecloths, ceramics, jewelry, photo books, trinkets
and art works. Rustic bridges and the remains of a Roman monument
beckon.  I can't stop snapping photos as I wander through the tiny
streets paved with smooth river stones. This is a great way to remove
yourself from the tourist scene.

Just start walking, and take the smallest streets you can find, and the
most unlikely turns.  This is where you'll see the "real" France, or the
"real" Italy, or whatever country it is you're visiting.  It's where the
magical moments happen.  A 13 year old girl, leaning out a window,
hanging laundry; a man and his dog, sitting on the stairs beneath an
ancient Roman lintil, staring at the sea; three boys in an alley playing
a game with round rocks; the way ice-blue flowers tumble from a
greystone trellis.  These are the moments I'll remember in my dreams
when I remember France.

If you're traveling with children, you might want to know about the
Marineland aquatic park which is close by and houses the largest marine
show in Europe.  Make sure to stop by one or more of the local
glass-blowing studios on the way...it's incredible to watch these
artisans at work.  It must be so satisfying to be a glass-blower, and to
create something new and unique every day.  Each piece is so different
than the others, but all are as gorgeous as they are hard-won.  (it's a
hot, hot job.)

I'm fairly proud of myself that I find the bus stop and take it from the
top of the hill in Biot down to the sea. There I need to transfer to the
bus back to Antibes Juan-Les-Pins, and I find the #1 bus, as instructed.
Of course, after I get on and pay my 1 Euro (very cheap!!) I realise the
bus is on its way to Nice and I'm going the wrong way.  The bus driver
kindly lets me off  and tells me in French where to stand for the #1
going the OTHER way.

At the bus stop, a pretty girl joins me as I wait.  She speaks English!
Her name is Lola, and she assures me that this time I am indeed in the
right place to head back to Juan.  We strike up a conversation and she
tells me that she's a student from Brittany in Northern France, here on
summer holiday visiting her uncle.  I notice she has a crisp white shirt
on a hanger she's holding. "Are you working this summer, as well?"  "Oh,
yes, I landed a nice job--  I'm a bartender at the Hotel Belle Rives,"
she replies.

I just start laughing.  "I waterskied there yesterday."  She then
remembers seeing me there, when I was having my conversation with the
owner Marianne two days ago.  I tell her she's very lucky to have landed
the job at such a prestigious place, just by answering an ad in the
newspaper.  She says she knew it was fate when she entered the lobby for
her interview and saw the stone plaque and quotation from F. Scott
Fitgerald hanging on the wall. She'd JUST finished reading "Tender is
the Night" and had no idea that F. Scott Ftizgerald had lived in this
very villa, but she'd been totally entranced by the book.  Destiny! And
sure enough, she landed the job. Thanks, F. Scott!

It turns out her family had lived in the states at one point, as her
father is a mathmatics professor and moves around from time to time.
Where in the states?  "A place called Minneapolis."  Now I start
laughing even harder. "My entire family still lives there," I tell her.
"It was 1996--the year of the blizzard," she remembers.  I don't think
I'll be going back there in the winter ever again!" But then quickly
adds that she had some great times there as well...although she was too
young to hang out at  Prince's nightclub in downtown Minneapolis, which
happened to be  MY old stomping grounds.  :)

Lola is wonderful company, and since I related to her the history of the
Belle Rives that Marianne had told me earlier, she now has a better
appreciation of her place of employ.  That's the beauty of travel. You
give a little, you get a little, and you realise just what an incredibly
small world it really is.  I hope to have time on my last night here on
the Cote D'Azur to go have a nightcap at Fitgerald's bar at the Belle
Rives, poured by Lola, the lovely bar tender/student from Brittany. :)

Now--off to the beach for a final swim in the Med.