Cote d'Azur, Safer than Cote d'Ivoire

We were headed back to France to Grasse, a perfume town about an hour from Nice, where we were staying at a grotto owned by my mom's friend who was graciously allowing us to crash there for a few nights. Getting from Barcelona to Nice is a logistical nightmare that we were not aware of when we made our schedule. Taking the train will take between eight and ten hours with a minimum of three transfers. After a lot of discussion, we decided to take the train to Narbonne, where we would rent a car and then drive the scenic route up the coast to Grasse. We picked up the car and realized we would be at the mercy of the local radio stations without an iPod hookup (Note: we had some decent tunes along the way interspersed with yachting commercials). We were prepared with very detailed door-to-door directions that would have been sufficient and toll free except for the fact that there are virtually no useful road signs in France.

Joe was flustered after 30 minutes while I tried to channel my father and get us to our destination. We missed a turn somewhere in Montpelier and spent close to an hour driving around the town, crossing the same bridge no less than three times. With the sun going down and the two of us getting desperate, we managed to find our way back to a highway and follow signs the rest of the way. Unfortunately, the road had tolls, but I was not about to try and navigate on country roads in the dark. At the first toll, we found out that our credit cards would not work after inserting our toll ticket, so we had to page someone to come assist us and pay with cash. So far, it was France 3-Joe & Molly 0. After a few more hours of driving and yacht ads, we zipped down the winding roads of Grasse and finally pulled into the driveway at Villa Ndio.

I Say Geneva, You Say Stupid Americans

The next morning, we were scheduled to drop the car off in Nice, where we spent the day wandering the city. We walked along the Promenade de Anglais on the coast and through the flower markets to Le Chateau, a park that towers over Nice and used to have a castle. We followed the glowing neon signs to the elevator, completely missing the stairs that were just to its right, and ascended to the top in a tiny elevator with 20 other people. The views from Le Chateau were incredible with the mountains, sea, and city all in your line of vision. After exploring what it had to offer, we went back into town and grabbed coffee and strolled some more through gardens before making our way to the train station. At one point in the pedestrian shopping zone, we overheard a lady asking her husband where all the nice stores were that they saw driving in, presumably speaking about the many boutique designer stores of the French Riviera. She was clearly disappointed in the Nice stores and just wanted the nice ones.

Follow the neon signs

Panorama from Le Chateau

At the train station, we attempted to reserve tickets to Geneva but the agent was not pleased to deal with us. Judging by the customer service, we were definitely back in France. We explained what we needed and then walked away with two tickets to Genova, Italy from some other random Italian town?! We understood the similarity between Genova and Geneva, but the agent never asked us to clarify and booked us from a place we had never mentioned or even heard of. We had to catch the train so we decided to correct the ticket back in Grasse, where the agent was much more helpful. She even called a cab for us since there weren't any waiting at the station, but for reasons unknown, the cab never showed. We finally decided we would walk back to the house as our other options vanished. It would be an adventure! We had no plan for dinner and threw around a couple of options, one being picking up food along the way. As most of the restaurants were closing for the night, we spotted a pizza truck parked up the street and beelined to it. The owner was about to close but we made the cut off by about three minutes and ordered two pizzas, only to discover that a third one would be free. Yes please. We had about 20 more minutes to walk with hot pizza smells wafting from the boxes. We were so happy to sit on the couch at Villa Ndio and eat delicious tasting mediocre pizza while sharing our Barcelona beer and watching the action-packed movie The Jackal.

Pizza has never tasted this good

Breakfast of Champions

After our late night walk, I was not ready to get out of bed when Joe woke up. We were supposed to get groceries to make breakfast and I was desperately hoping that he would volunteer to go alone so I didn't have to move, which he did. He said he would make breakfast and I could stay in bed and sleep, an offer I will never turn down. I snoozed a little longer and then did some mindless web surfing while I waited for Joe to return. In my sleepiness when he left, I forgot to remind him that he should get champagne for mimosas (because what is a decent breakfast without mimosas?) so I had my fingers crossed that he had the foresight to grab a bottle at the store.

Over an hour later, my anxious self started to panic and I went into worst case scenario mode. Joe probably got hit by a car on the windy roads, I couldn't leave because he had the only set of keys to the house, and I had no way to even figure out with my terrible French if he had been hit by a car or where he would be (this was the likeliest of cases, I figured). Even though I knew the time difference meant they wouldn't be awake, I messaged my friends Julie and Megan to voice my concern about Joe. About twenty minutes later, I heard the gate open outside and was relieved that Joe was back and had not in fact been hit by a car, so I updated Julie and Megan on his safe return.

Joe had apparently gone the wrong way to the store and insisted that I stay in bed and not help him make breakfast, so I wrote my blog post about macarons in Paris, reliving the deliciousness while I waited. We had already agreed to eat breakfast by the pool so I heard the gate open and close a few times, assuming Joe was transferring the food outside. He yelled that it was ready so when I went to brush my teeth and change, he was antsy and refused to just let me meet him out at the pool. I reminded him that he had given me strict orders to stay in bed and I took those orders seriously. I was certainly suspicious of his over-the-top kindness but sometimes he just likes to make extravagant meals (thanks, Ed, for passing that down!). Joe talked about making breakfast while I half listened and mostly just interrupted upon seeing the feast waiting for us. Crepes! Champagne! Flowers! Now I was really suspicious but didn't assume anything, until his speech that I wish I paid more attention to was over and I saw him from the corner of my eye get down on one knee (my eyes were still fixed on the champagne). I said yes, of course, but was in total shock. Just a mere hour ago, I was convinced that he had suffered life-threatening injuries. What a positive turn of events! We toasted as a newly engaged couple and feasted on a trio of crepes (bacon and cheese, raspberry jam, and Nutella with strawberries), enjoying the beautiful view from the backyard.

The spread and the view

Celebrating a perfect proposal

My whole life I've avoided drawing attention to my fingers but I knew this day would come

After breakfast, we hopped on the bus into town and walked around Grasse for a few hours, stopping in a perfume museum that was basically just posters about a family. We took the bus back to the house and shared the good news with family and friends (certainly difficult and limited without a working phone) before eating chicken tikka masala for dinner and planning our next day's departure for Switzerland.