Sara’s abroad in Paris, France, until Dec. 13.

In a country that gets five weeks of mandatory vacation time, you know that they’re going to do the good life very well. So while life in Paris has been great, this weekend seemed like the perfect opportunity to jet set (train set?) down to the French Riviera and see what everyone has been talking about.

The trip down was definitely a little less glamorous than it sounds – waking up at 6:45 with my roommate Casey and friend Adam meant chilling on the floor of the train station after only a few hours of sleep waiting for our TGV (tay-jay-vay) to take off.

The Nice harbor.

Five hours later, we found ourselves at the Nice train station. Now, if you’ve traveled, you know that train stations are usually the least favorable part of your vacation. Usually they’re on the scummy side, with sketchy people and sex shops within a few feet, and Nice was no exception. And since we are poor college kids, we obviously booked our reservation at Hotel Trocedero – a convenient option only a block from the station! It turned out all right though. The rooms smelled funky and we continuously cursed Trocedero 3 (one of the many unreliable wireless networks in this country) but all in all, it was definitely worth the 30 dollars a night we spent on accommodations.

On my last post, someone commented that Nice is terrible and that you’re better off visiting Cannes. Cannes – home of that famous film festival— is probably gorgeous. Why else would famous people agree to leave LA and fly halfway across the world? But my experience in Nice went above all my expectations.

The Cote d’Azur.

In Paris, where rain and clouds are pretty much a given at least once a week (but probably more), all I really wanted was a beach. We heard that it was still nice weather (nice weather – ha) in late August, so I was hoping to catch some UV rays for the last time this season. But Nice is way more than just a pretty beach town.

Once you make your way out of the scarier part, you’ll find countless restaurants, great shopping and a beautiful view of the Cote d’Azur. The thing Adam, Casey and I were most impressed with, beyond the amazingly blue water, was definitely the food.

The aftermath of one of many delicious meals.

In fact, our vacation really wasn’t that interesting to hear about, because we were so impressed with the food that we basically just promener-ed around waiting for it to be breakfast/lunch/dinner. Really, it was that good. Definitely the best food I’ve eaten in France – where they invented food and cooking – and definitely in my top five dining experiences. From beef stew and smoked salmon to steak and mussels, we had it all.

And for the ultimate dining experience, we headed up the coast on Saturday night to Monaco. All decked out for our big Monte Carlo experience, we probably could have planned the excursion a little better. I knew Paris was expensive but I forgot that Monte Carlo is where the richest people in the world hang out. For kids staying in a two star hotel, it might have been a little over our heads. But regardless, I can now say I saw the casino of Casino Royale, which is a decent claim to fame.

Downtown Monte Carlo.

On Sunday we pretty much had the whole day to kill so we wound up climbing a bunch of stairs and making our way to the top of the cliff overlooking Nice. It was a beautiful view, of course, and it really reminded me of Italy.

But with a trip that pretty much went perfectly (or Nice!! as we kept saying with a thick Borat accent, because we’re obviously hilarious), something was bound to go wrong.

The view of Nice from the cliff.

On the train back, that wrong thing happened. The French are funny about the way they do public transportation. I’ve said a million times that it’s great and reliable, but they still don’t make much sense in how they do things. For example, we bought tickets that said “sit where you want” – which we did. But other people bought tickets that said “sit in seat X”. So naturally, every seat we sat in really belonged to someone else. After several awkward rounds of musical chairs, we finally did end up in Paris. After skyping the boyfriend and catching up on some Perez, I promptly crashed.

All in all, it was a great weekend trip. And one of the greatest parts about it, I realized, while walking to “Mac-Do” with Adam to grab a late dinner after we got back from the train, is that Paris really is starting to feel like home. Strolling down the streets of Paris at 1:00 AM to grab some fast food had an eerily similar feel to running over to BK for some cheesy tots back in Evanston. And when Paris starts to feel like home sweet home, you really can’t complain.

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