"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>ma dernière journée à Nice . . . puis je me suis bronzée

>my wish for sun has come true. i woke up early like a palpitation to see the clouds had cleared and the weather was sizzling with mediterranean fervour. i bounded out of bed, threw on my 2-piece, and took the hotel stairs three at a time.

only seconds from the water, i was one of the first people to hit the stoney shores, around 8:30am. at that hour, my only beach companions were saggy geriatrics who had no qualms about exposing their antiquated bodies in bikinis and speedos. but as the boiling hours pressed on, the morning snowbirds thinned and the beautiful nicean people came out to frollick.

i have duly noted the uncanny amount of speedos here. this is tacky in toronto, and seen as ugly. and all sorts of women go either topless or in bikinis – unfortunately, these women (for the most part) do not have the bodies for either. they’re old, extremely obese, have no titties, have huge stretch marks, body moles, scars, hair, or are just plain nasty.

but i must remind myself that i don’t set standards by which people are judged. that’s not my place (i throw that in for good measure, it seems).

aftering spinning from one side of my torso to the other to tan, i have grown to love the sounds of wet feet precariously traipsing over the stones. these stones are all smoothed over, having been permeated and penetrated by the water, and they invoke pleasure just from palming them.

the children in floatation devices scream for their mothers, sketchy women offer beach massages, fat men sell doughnuts, young Australians liberally apply suntain oil, dirty men try to pick up girls in the surf, 747s roar overhead as they land and take off from the nearby airport, couples scream as they windsurf in balloons that say, “Welcome To Nice!,” old Portuguese couples adjust the rocks under their backs and fill out Les Mot Croisées.

the surf whistles and tumbles over over tiself in a calming woooooosh. i stepped into the water to cool off, and the stones travelled up my legs, banging and bruising with the tidal effects.

it’s now 3:30pm Nice time, and I’ve baked long enough. tomorrow i leave for barcelona, but i will find my way through nice with my bronzed body today. i will climb castle hill and look down upon the my planet that is so messed up sometimes.

i will think of people back in toronto, and wonder if they think about me. i will picture myself running my hands along a shoulder-blade tattoo and innocently asking, “oooh, when did you get this?” i will pretend my fingers are adjusting your roman haircut.

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2 responses

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    October 8, 2005 at 12:45 PM

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