I admit that I have slight love affair with the Côte d’Azur‎. There is something magical in the air that makes even a rock beach and sun burn sound like great ideas. The last time I was there was this summer and thanks to the conveniently located miles and miles of beach, I managed to sneak in a little time lounging around in the sun. The picture here is after a breakfast of a giant pots of muscles and some chips. The only drawback of course being that I was salty and sticky for the rest of the day, including my flight to Berlin.

Time was that I would regularly change the background for this site. I let me love for the Queen Charlotte Track get the better of me and haven’t changed it in a long time. I’m going to get back into it, so if you have any nice pictures you are willing to share, please do send them along to weldon [at] questingforadventure.com.

I was in Nice for less than 48 hours, but thankfully was afforded a chance to have a take a short break from the tour, meet up with a friend, and have breakfast on the beach – my fourth outing with a local along the U2 tour. I ordered a pot of muscles and chips and took a short swim while waiting for the food to arrive. I soaked up the sunshine while munching down on the delicious muscles.

It was simple and perfect. My friend’s life stood in stark contrast to the crazy pace of the tour. It was the type of morning that makes you wonder why we all don’t just live in beach towns and take every opportunity for a quite morning swim. I know that I couldn’t lead a quiet life forever, but I certainly could stand a few more quiet mornings on the beach like that one.

In 2004, I spent a very bohemian month studying French in beautiful Nice. This week I spent a few short hard working days there, and it was a wholly different place.

I arrived a bit bedraggled and tired after my challenging drive from Paris, but was determined to see a bit of the city that I had loved so well. I headed off in the evening to meet up with a co-worker in the middle of the city, but couldn’t hail a cab from the area around the airport where my hotel was. I asked myself what I would have done 5 years ago if I needed to get across town in a hurry, searching for that carefree mentality that had helped me make the most of my time here. So I whipped off my shirt and joined some people running and rollerblading down Promenade des Angles. It was prefect and reminded me why I loved Nice, a beach town that’s glamorous, but also laid back enough that you can take a midnight jog surrounded by crowds of tens and twenty-somethings settling in for an evening on the beach.

But diving into the town’s nightlife slowed my re-enchantment. We headed back to a couple of bars that I remembered as being good rowdy fun, but found them pack with overly drunk British and American teenagers complaining loudly and falling over themselves. It had been fun when I was that age, but now just seemed a bit sad. It was a lesson that a place will never be the same the second time.