Nice is...nice?

I know, I know. Why am I posting blurry pictures? WHY AM I POSTING THREE BLURRY PICTURES? Well, it's probably best to try NOT to understand.

I love blurry photos. Accidents and motion, not someone's attempt at photographing fireworks. The long story is that I had to leave Marseill very, very early--well, you know. My train left at 720 and I was staying in the suburbs. When I told the guy at the hostel that I HAD to leave at 630, he scoffed. It was downhill to the train station! In the end, I don't know if he overslept or if he just decided I didn't need all that time (even if I thought I did)--he didn't let me out (the whole building was locked--like a Russian nightclub. I would not want a fire) until close to 700, and I, predictably, got lost, although this time I surprised even myself by getting lost less than a minute after I left the hostel. I took two right turns and ended up who knows where--the cat dimesion or maybe the lost-sock-in-the-dryer dimension. Short story? I was basically throwing my bike on the train as it pulled out of the station. Well, not quite, but it was within seconds, I assure you.

Once I'd caught my breath, I took photos out the window of the sunrise. Pretty! There is one of a city street...so this is technically still Marseille.

And this one, I can't get to flip. Sorry, but I like it.

Palm Springs? Florida? Nope. Nice. LOOK AT THAT SKY!


If you look up close, that's right, Hotel Floride! Complimentary teeth brushing? Or maybe they only host dentists?


Okay, so, pretty beach and water and everything...but this beach was also handicap accessible! That's right, it had a wheelchair ramp leading down to the...uh, wait a minute. To the sand? Um...


Art. Public art. Guys contemlating on the top of poles. With birds balancing. I think there was a time when the end of the world was coming (Godspeed, You!Black Emperor--can't help it), at least according to some, and there were really devout people that basically built little towers and sat on top and waited for The End. Of course, maybe I dreamed that...or it's now called shopping.

I know I already posted this guy, but he's so irresistable!



And his flying-pig window companions. This was in the window of La Galarie Rosonoff, heading toward the really, really touristy area. 'Not made in china, not made in USA' and 'Pigasus Volubilis' are bothe by Patrick Schumacher; the painting behind the Buddha is 'Turning Orange' by Akhilesh.


NO ONE does churches like the Russian Orthadox. Seriously, I'm surprised Communism could compete.



And the knife sharpener again.

So now I remember why I have so few pictures of Marseille. My card was full and I had to delete things to take pictures in Nice. I couldn't resist it, and bothe the sky and the clouds in this picture should prove my case. I only wish I'd been able to get better pictures of some of the astonishingly beautiful architectural details of the buildings...

Nice is nice. But it's also rich--even Rich. You can feel the money oozing out of it. But the light is beautiful. And the guy working the desk at the hostel wasn't half bad, either.

Anti-Olympics--warning, this post has swearing...

I've been poking around for info on the anti-Olympic protests and riots (nice Metro through the TD Bank window! I like!) Here are some photos that almost had me tearing up--oh, I miss my old neighborhood. Mike Usinger's an asshole, and he writes articles to prove it. In fact, he might be the number one reason not to read the Straight (which has become a straight paper, anyway). This one has a rather blow-by-blow description of activities that seem a little...overlooked? by the straight media. What the hell was Arnie carrying the torch at one point? I do not understand. And this blog is kind of cute, although I don't know why I think it's cute. He's chipper!

Anyone else have good sources? I am now a little disappointed I am not there... Commercial Drive is still one of the best neighborhoods in Vancouver, and it is what I miss, if I miss anything.

Marseille

I think I'm just going to leave this one as a post of random, un-captioned photos.

Sardinia, Italy

Brilliant. I shall not throw ubstructing things in the toilet, as to avoid obstructing things. Life lessons from Italian shipping companies.


Somewhere along the way, she stopped being a vélo and became a bicicletta.

Mailboxes!

The beautiful beach near Santa Theresa. During the twenty minutes that it DID NOT RAIN while I was in Sardinia. Proof that Italy does NOT like me. It was brilliantly sunny when I left. Of course.

I went to the cemetary!

My first glimpse of the Marine Cemetary, a pretty little thing crammed full of familial graves. There's a proper word for it, but I forget it right now. Crypts? Sounds more ghoulish than it was. I spent TOO MUCH time here, and have the photos to prove it. Eventually the rain and the wind got to me.







I love the details...


Falling down?

Bonifacio

My further adventures on Corsica...

Once Sylvian dropped me off a little short of Porto Vecchio, I regained my bike balance (I imagine that's the cyclist's equivalent of sea legs), and tottered off to Bonifacio. When I arrived, I was a little disappointed, and who wouldn't be? Everything seemed closed, including the entire harbourside strip (though not much was lost there, since it was all tourist directed). It was kind of like showing up at the empty set of Beachcombers. But I rolled a little further on (like a few meters more), and saw the old city perched above the harbour. It was very pretty in the weak afternoon sunshine, and I felt reassured at my arrival, even if most of the town was shut for the season. Though I am still undecided whether that wasn't a blessing.


My first adventure in Bonifacio was to go for a wander up to the citadel. My hotel was within the city's walls, which was nice since it meant I didn't have to walk all the way UP to the citadel every day. A typical fortiied town, there were slit windows for slinging arrows out of which now offer picturesque views of the lower town and harbour.


This was carved upside down into one of the walls. I liked it!


The view out my hotel window. Of the incredible rain, though you can't tell. I liked how the camera distorted the colour of the glowing streetlamps.



Yup! Napoleon used to live here. He was Corsican, you know. The Corsican Usurper!

One of the strange things about Bonifacio was that the city was full of crooked little streets lined with tourist shops and restaurants, but then, at the edge of that was an abandoned and rather derelict military residence, essentially several large buildings filled with broken glass and cordoned off with rasor wire. Then there was this super swank hotel between the neglected barracks and the Marine cemetary. It was a collosal building in new-white, renting suites for as little as (!!) 135Euros or so a night. !! It was the sort of spot that was guaranteed to be haunted, and if not, one I'd avoid wandering around in at night alone. Still, I don't think Bonifacio is the sort of place where one need worry about much.

I went for a little bike ride out of town, toward l'église de l'ermitage de la trinité not too far away, and was distracted down every little road I found. Which, often as not, revealed dumped garbage of all sorts. Reminded me of BC, twenty years ago.


At the hermitage, I was met by a tribe of talkative cats who all disappeared once there was no sign of food. There was a (locked) church thing (the hermitage?) with a very beautiful facade, and a plaque commemorating six men (Brothers) who were missionaries killed in Algeria in the 80s or 90s, and a large, plain iron cross on the rocks on top of the hill.


I was more distracted by the figurines and candles left by people at the shrine to the Virgin Mary, a little statue in the crook of two boulders. There were plenty of signs warning of the danger of candles and fire, but there were plenty flickering at her feet.


The official Virgin, and then her replicas...




The city, hanging off her calcium cliffs.



I went for a wander one morning and got 'picked up' by a professor from Corte. He was wandering along the same trail, and decided I should go along with him to this spot where the sea had eroded a hole in the cliffs. If he could only remember where it was... I spent an hour or so wandering down wrong ways before I parted ways and went back to get my bicycle and go for a ride. I returned to where we'd been wandering, because there were a few neat things, like this super old house mae of stone and marked with a date from the 17th century. Cool!


I also found the remains of a (I am assuming) WWII military post. The stone buildings were mostly destroyed, but the bunkers were still there, with the addition of someone's very pretty graffiti. I thought she was being eaten by a fish, at first, but now I think she's either wearing the fish, or wearing a dress that looks like a fish.