All About Trey

Life, Travel, Adventure

I'm not complaining!

I'm not.

But it's hot. Africa hot.

I'm eating dinner and the sweat is dripping down my back like it's Niagara Falls. Totally gross.

So maybe I'm complaining a little.

Yes I'm hot, but here I am eating dinner at a cute little outdoor cafe on the Promenade des Anglais on the Cote D'Azur. So I guess I really shouldn't complain.

But I'm so good at it!

The flights to Nice were fine. United upgraded me on the flight to Frankfurt, but two gentleman decided to talk the whole flight and even with ear plugs I could hear every single word. Ugh. Frankfurt Airport is a mess. I definitely prefer Munich. I landed at the Nice/Cote D'Azur airport, took the bus and then a taxi to my hotel.

The Hotel Splendid is not Splendid. It is close to the beach and it has a roof top pool. But the rooms are small and dated and the AC does not work well. Have I mentioned that it's hot? After a tortuous disco nap, I went to check out the roof top pool. It's small, but nice and I hunker down on one of the chaise to get my vitamin D and to read. Since I have my iPad, I only brought one book. Big mistake. Oh well. I laid out for a bit and then got cleaned up. The conceirge recommended a little cafe down the promenade so I walked down to check it out. Even at 730PM, the beach is still hopping and the promenade is packed. The sun is still unmercifully beating down on my so I work up a good sweat walking to the cafe.

My plans to hit the "trendy gay club where the fashion conscious under 35 crowd dance to pumping house music" kind of fell apart. I'm tired. And old. And it doesn't start until 11PM. And I set my alarm so I could get up and go, but I was just exhausted.

This AM I got up and went on a walkabout. And as typical of my walkabouts it turned into a death march. Down the promenade. Then up the hill to the park where there used to be a fort. Then back down the hills, with a couple of wrong turn down dead ends, and into the marina/harbor area. Then back around the point, down the promenade, and back to the hotel. What was supposed to be a hour or so walk turned into a three hour death march. And have I mentioned the unmerciful sun and the heat?

So I've discovered two types of Brits. The drunk and pale Brits, or the drunk and freakishly red Brits. Seriously, these people do not tan. And I guess they haven't caught on to the use of sun screen. Nor are they ever sober.

This afternoon it's museum time. Hopefully it will be cool in the museums. I'm just so tired of sweating.

More later.