6/13/14. The post where we are skeptical of everything, but all ends well.

6/13/14:  our last day in the area.  We had a few chores to do to ensure the rest of our trip goes smoothly, but we went into the village for breakfast first.  While at our "usual" breakfast spot, a friendly French gentleman started chatting with us.  While I love France and its inhabitants, I am always slightly skeptical of any French person I describe as "friendly".  After learning that my patient, loving husband is a Baroque musician, he explained that he is a writer for a web magazine that specializes in early music.    Before we knew it, they were exchanging phone numbers and he was promising to try to get us into a performance in the area.

As the morning wore on, we became more and more convinced that he was some type of scam artist.  We expected to get an email from him telling us he had inherited 50M Euros from a long-lost uncle that he couldn't transfer out of the country for political reasons and all he needed was our bank account and Social Security numbers so he could wire the money to our account.  Well, guess what? It turns out he is just a friendly Frenchman who writes for a web magazine that specializes in early music.  He sent us his contact information and sent an inquiry to the director of a well-known classical music presenter in the area making an introduction for us.  It's kind of a shame, actually, because I was looking forward to that 50M Euros.

One of our errands took us back into Nice to exchange traveler's checks for cash.  By the way, traveler's checks are gaspng their last breath as a mode of currency when traveling.  They are difficult to exchange and the exchange rates are terrible compared to other methods.  We generally do not use them, but we had a specific reason for needing to do so.  We had to drive into the heart of the city to exchange them, and by "heart of the city", I mean the "wrong side of the tracks."  Literally.  It was right outside the train station.

The exchange location was nothing but a small kiosk with what looked like a bank teller window.  The employee, another friendly Frenchman, warned us about Gypsies in the area who would try to pickpocket us.  I immediately became suspicious.  I've seen Casablanca many times and I know better than to trust a helpful local.  http://youtu.be/JW5bcI0ADCY. How did we know he was even a real employee?  Anyone could get a shirt with the exchange company's name and logo on it and sneak into the back of the kiosk.  So I began to ask him questions about exchange rates and other items that would require him to log into the computer and show me that he knew how to use their database.  Maybe I wasn't as clever as I thought, but in any event he knew enough to convince me that he was an employee and I gave him the traveler's cheques, which he exchanged for Euros.  What do you know? Sometimes you can trust a helpful local.

After enduring the terrible traffic and stressful exchange experience, we were ready for some lunch.  We didn't want to settle for a place that charged tourists overinflated prices for underrated food, so we walked in search of the perfect place.  And walked.  And walked.  We walked for so long that when we did find a few places that looked acceptable, they were no longer serving lunch.  Hot, tired, and thirsty, we finally ended up in the pedestrian-friendly shopping area and decided to go in the first place we found.  Which served us the best niçoise salad either of us had ever had.  So much for our superior restaurant-finding skills.  

After spending a little more time in Nice, we returned to the apartment, where I received a text from our contact saying she needed to meet with us in person about the broken glass.  Uh, oh.  Was the replacement cost going to wipe out our retirement savings? Were we going to be kicked out of the place for causing trouble?  Was this going to go on our permanent record?  

As it turns out, she wanted to meet us in person for two reasons.  Number one, she wanted to let us know that she would give us a receipt, a copy of the bill, and a letter of explanation in hopes that our homeowner's insurance would reimburse us.  Second, she wanted to make sure my patient, long-suffering husband was really okay, because the contractor told her that when he saw the condition of the glass, he was surprised no one was badly injured.  And best of all, the replacement cost was less than our security deposit.  

Moral of the story - there may be vultures everywhere, but most of the time, people are good and things work out.  All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good day.  The heat finally broke this evening, so we've spent our last night here outside enjoying it. 

While it breaks my heart a little to leave this place, tomorrow we go to Monte Carlo for a belated anniversary celebration.  And I don't mean this Monte Carlo.