I am home. Safe. Home, at least, in Nice. That’s Neece, not Nice, in France. I am on the 4th floor of the apartment where I am staying. The door, shut tightly and securely behind me. Home, away from those who followed me around the city today.
I have to admit. Today was the first day I came to appreciate the t-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes that American tourists are nutorius for wearing.
Had I been wearing these things, instead of a dress and sandals, maybe I wouldn’t have been followed.
It went like this.
I left the rummage sale I was working/sitting at in search of the sea. It’s hot in Nice in the summertime. In fact, this is often how the conversations start:
“It’s hot outside today”.
“Yep. It’s hot.”
“I’m being cooked out here”.
Coming from a place where it is freezing cold for 9 months of the year, I personally don’t mind getting cooked outside. In fact, I kind of like it.
None the less, I was still warm at the rummage sale. And because it wasn’t my stuff being sold, I had the option of going to swim in the sea.
The sea was not far from where we were, my friends told me. Straight down the hill, then ask someone for the shortcut to go swimming.
OK.
I went down the hill. I found the sea right away, but I found the port, not the swimming part. So I kept walking…and walking. I didn’t ask anyone for directions. But I should have.
I am walking down a street, Le Carnot, I think, when a man in army colored pants whispers bonjour to me. I look straight ahead and keep walking. 2 blocks later, somehow, the same army bottoms come at me from ahead. He whispers the exact same thing. HOW DID HE GET THERE??? I turn around, scared, and he is staring at me.
Lovely.
So I keep walking, much more quickly now. Where are my ugly American tennis shoes when I need them the most??!
Thankfully, Nice is a city for tourists. I found a street full of tourist shops, as well as the requisite tourists. I tried to sneak a few looks behind me, as I mélanged my way into the crowd. He was gone, thankfully. Draggeur #1 was gone.
#1?? You may ask??
Yep, that’s right.
I made it safely to the beach. But, of course, as the day was hot, there was no place to be had on the beach made of stones. So I walked around a bit, still cautiously looking for army pants, and decided to walk home instead.
I went into a book festival, looked around, and found the big street that leads me to all of the places I need to go.
I see a man talking to a girl of about my same age. He is telling her he will call her later, etc. I keep walking. As I am crossing the street, I turn around, and the same man is walking, alone, quickly. He catches up to me and says
“It’s hot out today, isn’t it?”
I speed up. There are still lots of people, lots of tourists around. I turn around, he is still there, behind me.
What the &*+*à??
As I am now an expert at this, I weave myself in and out of the crowds that are walking around this street. Finally, I turn around, and mystery man #2 is gone as well.
Tomorrow, my friends have to work. I will be on my own. I want to go to the beach.
I think I’ll trade in my dress and my sandals in order to look more American.
Sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt for me tomorrow.
