Franciscan Monastery and Modern Art Museum: Day 1 in Nice, France
Tuesday, November 7th, 2023
Were you ever the kid who counted down the days until their birthday, starting 30+ days out? (Hint: I was.) If so, you may recall the feeling of waking up the morning of your birthday, hardly believing the day was finally here, and solemnly resolving to soak up every happy moment.
Well, this Tuesday morning in early November may as well have been my birthday because I woke up giddy with happiness. After a delightful couple of weeks in Italy, we were back in France!!
Duncan and I ate a quick breakfast in our AirBnb, happily aware of the gorgeous sunshine beckoning us to come outside and explore. After yesterday’s long travel day, we were looking forward to getting out for a walk.
We chose the Monastère Notre Dame de Cimiez for today’s destination, which would be about a 30-40 minute uphill walk from our AirBnb.
As we stepped outside and began our walk, the French words on street signs and in passing cell phone conversations swirled around me like a pleasant, enchanting breeze...
The French language has always felt like a hug for my mind. A linguistic hug, if you can imagine it. It’s been a safe, happy place for me, long before I started the journey of actually learning the language myself. Let me explain.
Growing up, I recall my native French mother talking on the phone as regularly as she could with her family, all of whom still lived in France. In preparation for these calls, I remember her purchasing calling minutes that she would load onto a plastic card dotted all over with strings of numbers. I always found it intriguing how many numbers she had to press before she could activate the card minutes, connect to her family member across the ocean, and finally start talking.
In the early 90s, our landline phone was still tethered to the dining room wall by a super long curly tan-colored phone cord. I remember my mom walking short laps back and forth next to the dining room table, pacing as far as the length of the phone cord would let her, pausing regularly to look out the window while she chatted. Her face always beamed so beautifully as she conversed in French with her mom and her other French family members.
The energy exchanged in these calls was palpable. Clearly, the humans on both sides of the line were equally excited to hear from each other.
In addition to these earliest memories, I also recall hearing my grandmother and my aunts, uncle, and cousins speaking in French together during family visits. The zippy pacing and musical rhythm of their back-and-forth laughter-filled banter always made me feel light, airy, and very happy.
That feeling has never gone away.
These early memories bring happy tears to my eyes.
What beautiful gifts.
So, back to Nice, where I was ecstatic to be surrounded by my favorite language again…
It was a perfect day for walking. Turns out early November weather in southern France is still pleasantly warm, getting up into the mid-60s or even low 70s at times. We took our time walking, stopping at intervals to admire the view behind us, gradually opening up more and more over the Mediterranean Sea the higher we climbed. We made it up to the monastery mid-morning and wandered our way into the gardens.
The monastery’s outdoor space was still quite green, despite it being so late in the season. Under the dappled mid-morning light, the shrubs and trees around us swayed tranquilly in the wind.
Inside the church itself, which dates back to the 1400s, the air was cool and still. A few folks had come in to pray, so we were extra careful not to make noise as we tiptoed our way around the sanctuary, reading the informational plaques and looking at the beautiful artwork.
After visiting the church, we wandered over to the attached Museum of the Franciscans. It was clear that a lot of love and hard work had gone into the curation of this museum. We learned so much history about the founding of the Franciscan order as well as some of its key figures over time. Downstairs, a few parishioners walked in and out of the entrance, carrying plastic boxes of decorations. They appeared to be preparing to decorate for a church event.
After a pleasant morning of exploring, we headed back to the apartment and enjoyed a tasty late lunch of quinoa, mushrooms, and cheese.
Duncan had planned to work on Memberstack back at the AirBnb for the afternoon and early evening, so I decided to head over to the Musée d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporain for a little art perusal.
As the museum would be closing in 90 minutes, there wasn’t a line at the entrance. I was relieved because I wanted to ask for help at the front desk with purchasing a Nice museum pass for the week. (I’m always super appreciative of opportunities that allow me the luxury of taking my time and not feeling rushed when speaking French.)
Having learned from my humorous but embarrassing cul-de-sac exchange with the library security guard in Paris a few weeks before, I went ahead and prefaced this conversation by explaining in French that I was an American learning French, so it might take a moment for me to get my words out right.
Friends, this touch of vulnerability seems to bring out the very best in folks. Before I knew it, both the security guard and the front desk employees had huge smiles on their faces, goodwill effusing from every word they spoke to me. Their warmth and kindness as they encouraged me in my French learning endeavor and wished me a very enjoyable visit to the museum made me feel so welcome and accepted.
As I turned the corner to enter the museum, English and French museum guides in hand, I felt a suspicious touch of moisture pooling in my eyes. Yet another sweet French language memory to add to my growing collection.
I thoroughly enjoyed the displays of modern art. Some were beautiful and intriguing. Some were odd. Some were downright confusing. But all were interesting.
One of the highlights was definitely watching the sunset from the roof of the museum. The sunset colors were marvelous.
The roof itself is actually meant to be a modern art display as well. You can walk all over it and admire the surrounding mountains and coastline from an amazing vantage point.
The breeze atop the roof was fresh and cool, high enough above the crowded streets to allow the pollution to begin dissipating.
A few minutes before closing, I picked up my water bottle from the security desk (note that you can’t bring liquids into this museum) and thanked the museum staff for the lovely visit. They wished me a wonderful week in Nice, and I assured them this had been a perfect start to it.
As I enjoyed a leisurely walk back to the AirBnb, I noticed more and more folks coming out onto the sidewalks, big smiles on their faces, ready for a night out on the town. My homebody self was happy and ready to close things down for the evening and enjoy a peaceful evening with Duncan.