South of France, Pt 1

I'm out here in Villefranche-sur-mer, which is about 20 minutes east of Nice on the French Riviera. My mom got an apartment here for a month as part of her month-long French immersion course, which is apparently what you do when you're retired and bored with too much money. I'm about it.

Naturally, I'm only here for the week, as I have to return and finish the semester. Fuck. Also, fishing season doesn't start here until about mid-April. Double fuck. One of my grail fish is a white marlin, which they have here, as well as swordfish, mahi-mahi, tuna etc.

Ah well. I've already seen several 9-figure megayachts heading towards Monaco and/or Italy from the west (Saint Tropez is around the corner, as are Cannes and Antibes). Our little port here is supposedly the fifth most beautiful bay in the world, according to the people who know these things. It's a quiet town primarily for lame old folks with too much money, but it really is beautiful and friendly. It's a totally different culture than in Paris, where the locals are often curt or outright rude if you have the nerve to butcher their precious language, or even just the audacity to not be un Parisien. Côte d'Azur is a different vibe - think Los Angeles versus Manhattan, but different.

Jet lag is still kicking my ass, and I'm wide awake at 2:30 AM here. Not ideal. I didn't drink anything but water and coffee yesterday in an attempt to keep it reasonable; I suspect that the collective system shock has contributed to my misery. I'll be fine, but I'm definitely going to be putting some of their glorious wine in my body later, ideally over a feast of various creatures that were swimming a day or two ago.

Before that, however, I'm going to go rent a motorcycle and explore the area. They're very strict about drinking and driving (riding, whatever) here, so mixing of the two, even on the scale of a beer or two that would be completely acceptable in the US, is highly discouraged. Additionally, the traffic system here could be accurately described as terrifying. Every near miss attacks my nervous system ever so slightly, to the point that I'm now even a little jumpy (I'm never jumpy). The bike will be interesting in this environment.

I think I've got my rental narrowed down to one of the BMW 1200 throwback café racer-style bikes, specifically the 1200 R Nine T Racer, because I'll probably not have the opportunity to ride one again. My other options were various - I rejected the Harley Road King and Sportster 48s in the interest of avoiding being too American, the Ducati Monster 821 for not being interesting enough, and the GSXR 750 because I've ridden one and it's too similar to the Fireblade I ride daily at home. I guess my decision will be determined by what they have on hand when I get to Nice.

That's assuming, of course, that I can figure out the fucking buses here. Cabs are absurdly expensive, much like everything else.

I'm yawning again, thank fuck. Back to sleep for a few hours. Stay weird.