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| Nice fireworks 2015 |
I have lived part time in Nice since
reconnecting with Brenda in 2006. She had been there in a
rental apartment for several years then; she would have
probably preferred spending more of our time in the South, but I
wasn't keen on leaving Paris, and we ultimately decided --for
financial and logistical reasons-- to give up the Nice
apartment. We visited in the winter of 2007 in order to
recuperate a few bric-a-brac for Paris and give notice to the
owner.
She put up little resistance about giving up the apartment, and I have sometimes wondered if she hadn't somehow planned it all along; but before that week was up, I had fallen in love with Nice and the French Riviera. We left the bric-a-brac where they were, and we've never seriously discussed giving up the apartment since.
So every few months we find ourselves back on rue de France. There isn't an enormous amount to do. We walk, and bicycle, and occasionally swim. We don't hide from the sun. We have an exceptional list of wonderful little restaurants for lunch, then we often head for a park to play a game of Scrabble. Other than that, we go to the movies, an occasional concert or exhibit, and consume a steady flow of DVDs. To some, with its stunning blue azure backdrop of the French Riviera, life might sound idyllic, to others downright boring.
Last summer was special, though not in a good way. It will be remembered as the year of L'Attentat, the terrible terrorist attack on the beachfront Promenade des Anglais the night of France's national holiday.
When in Nice, we go to the elaborate fireworks display just around the corner late on the evening of July 14. With tens of thousands of spectators, it is usually too crowded for comfort, but in 2015 we finally managed to find a really good spot away from the worst of the crowd. We had a near perfect view, and for once were not too pushed and shoved by other spectators.
I decided to quit while I was ahead. I announced I would not be going this year, and Brenda was not pleased. She said she would go alone, but instead we ended up watching another DVD.
It was just as well, because around 10:30 I looked out in the direction of street noise below, and I could see people running in all directions, and two ambulances were stopped beneath our window, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
"Sit down and finish the film. It's just the excitement of the holiday." Brenda said. And I did, not quite assimilating what I had just seen.
It wasn't until midnight that we began to get radio reports that ultimately confirmed 86 deaths and many more injured. As most in the world now know, a deranged newly-minted terrorist succeeded in slaughtering the maximum number of pedestrians leaving the fireworks, running over them with a giant refrigerated delivery truck, often plowing through four or five at a time.
In the days following the attack, normal summer life pretty much came to a stop. A lot of hotel tourists left, and many more (one report said over 35 percent) canceled upcoming reservations. The Promenade des Anglais quickly transformed itself into a shrine in memory of its victims, and floral tributes sprang up at the spots where they had perished. Long lines often formed outside neighborhood florists, waiting to buy one or two roses to leave on the Promenade.
She put up little resistance about giving up the apartment, and I have sometimes wondered if she hadn't somehow planned it all along; but before that week was up, I had fallen in love with Nice and the French Riviera. We left the bric-a-brac where they were, and we've never seriously discussed giving up the apartment since.
So every few months we find ourselves back on rue de France. There isn't an enormous amount to do. We walk, and bicycle, and occasionally swim. We don't hide from the sun. We have an exceptional list of wonderful little restaurants for lunch, then we often head for a park to play a game of Scrabble. Other than that, we go to the movies, an occasional concert or exhibit, and consume a steady flow of DVDs. To some, with its stunning blue azure backdrop of the French Riviera, life might sound idyllic, to others downright boring.
Last summer was special, though not in a good way. It will be remembered as the year of L'Attentat, the terrible terrorist attack on the beachfront Promenade des Anglais the night of France's national holiday.
When in Nice, we go to the elaborate fireworks display just around the corner late on the evening of July 14. With tens of thousands of spectators, it is usually too crowded for comfort, but in 2015 we finally managed to find a really good spot away from the worst of the crowd. We had a near perfect view, and for once were not too pushed and shoved by other spectators.
I decided to quit while I was ahead. I announced I would not be going this year, and Brenda was not pleased. She said she would go alone, but instead we ended up watching another DVD.
It was just as well, because around 10:30 I looked out in the direction of street noise below, and I could see people running in all directions, and two ambulances were stopped beneath our window, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
"Sit down and finish the film. It's just the excitement of the holiday." Brenda said. And I did, not quite assimilating what I had just seen.
It wasn't until midnight that we began to get radio reports that ultimately confirmed 86 deaths and many more injured. As most in the world now know, a deranged newly-minted terrorist succeeded in slaughtering the maximum number of pedestrians leaving the fireworks, running over them with a giant refrigerated delivery truck, often plowing through four or five at a time.
In the days following the attack, normal summer life pretty much came to a stop. A lot of hotel tourists left, and many more (one report said over 35 percent) canceled upcoming reservations. The Promenade des Anglais quickly transformed itself into a shrine in memory of its victims, and floral tributes sprang up at the spots where they had perished. Long lines often formed outside neighborhood florists, waiting to buy one or two roses to leave on the Promenade.
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| An unending floral tribute along the sea front |
The first fallen were probably children, waiting around a well known ambulatory candy stand. It was here, near the Negresco Hotel, that the first flowers began to appear. By the following evening, piles of stuffed toys and candles and flowers covered parts of the boardwalk and spilled across the street around the hotel entrance.
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| Late into the night in the Negresco lobby (Twitter) |
For over a mile, innocent victims perished under the wheels of the crazed assassin. The carnage route only ended when police shot and killed the attacker in front of the Canne à Sucre, a local terrace café where we sometimes go for breakfast. Here, there were no flowers. Instead, a shrine of a different sort sprang up. Angry residents threw bricks and trash on the spot, and spit on and cursed the memory of the man responsible for all of this heartbreak.
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| End of the route ... |
Nice is a friendly city, much more at first glance than Paris. It is very much a multi-ethnic and multi-lingual city, with good relationships between the communities. These bonds were sometimes challenged in the days following the attacks. There were occasional insults and at least one serious scuffle along the Promenade. But for the most part, residents remained calm. There has been no official list of victims by nationality and certainly not by religion, but along with those who lost their lives from the U.S. and England and Japan and Italy, one of the biggest groups represented in this tragic statistic was certainly the French Muslim population, itself.
Things here will
undoubtedly never be quite the same again. Nevertheless, little by
little, life returns to what passes for normal. We have always felt very much at home in Nice, but living through such a dramatic moment in its history, we now feel a more intimate connection with this very seductive city
that we once took too much for granted.
Your input is welcomed: frank.pleasants@libertysurf.fr
The Negresco was featured in Hotel Musings No. 17 "Celebrating The Holidays Away From Home";Nice and the French Riviera are also featured in "The Paris Hiltons and the Ukrainian Mafia" and "A Great Gatsbyesque Lunch", Hotel Musings No. 21 and 41. The Negresco Hotel is featured in "The Decline of Madame Augier", Hotel Musings No. 37. Brenda pops up in numerous musings, most notably in "Around Africa With Brenda" and "An Encounter With Keith", Hotel Musings 14 and 29 (to access, click on highlighted title).
Your input is welcomed: frank.pleasants@libertysurf.fr
CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings
The Negresco was featured in Hotel Musings No. 17 "Celebrating The Holidays Away From Home";Nice and the French Riviera are also featured in "The Paris Hiltons and the Ukrainian Mafia" and "A Great Gatsbyesque Lunch", Hotel Musings No. 21 and 41. The Negresco Hotel is featured in "The Decline of Madame Augier", Hotel Musings No. 37. Brenda pops up in numerous musings, most notably in "Around Africa With Brenda" and "An Encounter With Keith", Hotel Musings 14 and 29 (to access, click on highlighted title).
