Just Two Wishes

My kitten heels struck the polished floors, echoing on the familiar marble-clad corridors. The rhythmic clacking of keyboards would briefly stop to rehearsed ‘Bonjours’, excited ‘comment s’est passé tes vacances…’ and exchanged bisous before the symphony of keys took over again. The hum of the air conditioning welcomed me to my fluorescent-lit office as I plopped on my seat and booted up my computer. The nearby cathedral bell tower chimed, tram T4 rumbled past, the honk of a car filled the air; reminders that I had returned to my normal routine in the vibrant city of Lyon. A stark contrast to the salty sea air and the warmth of the Mediterranean sun on my skin…

*

“We’re cooked!” Announced Eric. A smooth baritone had announced that the sun had decided to crank up the thermostat across the Co¨te d'Azur. “Pun intended,” a boyish grin lengthening his rosy, slightly-chapped lips. He tucked the two strands of braids caressing his forehead behind each ear, rounded his black-bag-strapped broad shoulders and firmed his chiseled arms to carry our suitcases up the stairs of coach 5 on the bullet TGV train. He skimmed through the seat numbers, looking for 71 and 72.

The silk silver serpent slithered through the verdant heart of France. Vineyards stretched like emerald carpets, punctuated by the occasional chateau, a fairytale castle perched on a hilltop. As we rattled south, the mercury seemed to rise after every kilometer. The air-conditioning was a mere whisper against the relentless heat. With frayed tempers, a man across the aisle shouted at the woman beside him for hogging the armrest while the woman covered her nose, accusing him of a pungent body odor. Seeing my furrowed brows, Eric put his hand on mine.

 “Focus on the beach,” he said with a reassuring smile.

I lost myself to the train's rhythm and watched the world transform into a kaleidoscope of greens, morphing into dramatic cliffs before plunging into the sea. The gentle sway lulled me into a state of tranquil anticipation.

The French Riviera: a sun-kissed promise of azure waters and golden sands. And where I had vowed to tell this radiant soul that I loved him for the first time. That I knew that it had just been 7 months, but he had been the missing puzzle to my life, the rhythm to my heartbeat. He had held galaxies of understanding and support, a compass guiding me through life's labyrinth. A flutter of excitement and nervousness danced in my chest as I pondered. Those three words would open a new world of a deeper connection. Yet a whisper of doubt and fear of rejection weaved a subtle counterpoint.

We eventually got off at Villeneuve-Loubet, a small town moored between Nice and Antibes. As we walked towards our apartment, we marveled at the cluster of four towering, curvaceous buildings that seemed to rise from the sparkling azure waters like giant, gleaming white waves. The buildings appeared to undulate and flow with their distinctive tiered balconies as if they were frozen in a perpetual dance with the sea. We walked past La Flibuste, an entirely glass-encased Michelin-star restaurant. The fashionably dressed locals and sun-bronzed tourists went about their day, in and out of the boutiques, cafés, ice cream parlors and the thalassotherapy center. As we stepped inside our room in the Admiral building, (the other 3: Commodore, Ducale and Baronnet in the order of years they were constructed) we felt instantly transported into a world of luxury and exclusivity. We rushed to the window and were stunned by the rows of sleek yachts and sailboats gracefully dotting the marina. André Minangoy and Jean Marchand, despite the controversies, will forever be famous!

Eric and I jumped into each other’s arms, sharing an embrace that would make first-kissers and dying lovers jealous. He kissed me and I melted like jelly in his arms. We stayed in each other’s arms for… I honestly don’t know. Could have been a minute, could have been hours. But in that moment, the world felt right.

Then came the shock! A gasp, a frantic search, and the realization: Eric’s black bag had gone AWOL. It pulled a Houdini leaving him without his personal effects. The initial panic was replaced by a grim determination. Eric, the ever-optimistic gent, suggested we go report it to the office desk who in turn directed us to the nearby police station. In the same beat, we went to a nearby Intermarché and replaced his toothbrush, hair trimmer, towel, etc while also shopping for other food essentials.

“At least it wasn’t your wallet or phone that got lost,” I consoled as I unpacked the replaced essentials and refrigerated some fresh croissants, creamy French cheese and a bottle of chilled rosé.

Cannes                

Once we felt well rested, we made our way to the city of glamour and glitz. We strolled along the Croisette mindlessly talking, window shopping with abandon and taking snaps of the famous actors’ handprints (Angelina Jolie, Meg Ryan, Meryl Streep etc). I for one was excited to strike a model's pose on the iconic red carpet of the magnificent grand Palais des Festivals.

We were pleasantly surprised when the beach appeared at the end of La Croisette. You should have seen our excitement when we finally dipped our feet in the cool waters. Our smart selves had talked ourselves out of carrying our bathing suits. Nevertheless, we savored the moment, hands held, eyes closed, the water licking our calves while kids and other swimmers swaddled around us.

Our appetites, gentle but persistent, led us to a charming little bistro tucked away on a side street. We shared a plate of seafood, the flavors of the Mediterranean bursting on our palates. We devoured our meals, watching a parade of stylishly dressed people pass by, a living tableau of the Cannes lifestyle.

As we headed home, the sun drowned the town and our bright but extremely exhausted faces in a golden glow in it's descent. I made myself the first promise: I would one day go back to Cannes during the Film Festival, and I would pay to watch one of the highly acclaimed showings alongside the stars.

Monaco, Menton, Villefranche-sur-Mer, Nice

The next day’s itinerary was ambitious, to say the least. The train journey was a blur of coastal landscapes and the Mediterranean Sea shimmering under the coastal sun.

Monaco, a mere speck on the map, was our first stop. The tiny principality was a study of wealth and grandeur. The legendary Monte Carlo Casino, a magnet for eyes, stood as a testament to Belle Epoque architecture. The cars, flexing wealth and power were a spectacle in themselves. We felt a pinch of the surreal as we walked amidst this world of excess, a stark contrast to our ordinary lives. Did it inspire me? Did it make me feel like a pauper? Questions to discuss with my therapist.

We walked a bit, took more photos and videos for our social media and off we were to Menton, the ‘Pearl of the French Riviera”. Known for its lemon groves and lemon-themed decorations, the town was bathed in a citrusy fragrance. The Jardin Botanique, a riot of colors and scents, was a tranquil oasis. We wandered through the maze of exotic plants, the air filled with the sound of cascading waterfalls. My phone battery died as I snapped away the pastel-colored houses and charming squares of the old town. Truly a photographer’s wet dream.

By this time the heat had made me sweat off my light makeup. Our backs were flat pools. We had to find shade after every 1-2 hours and drink some water or energy drinks.

As we headed towards Nice, I could swear of left sock that the stunning harbor of Villefranche-sur-Mer coast called us by our full government names. Weak as we were, we obliged. Thus, we detoured for our first dip in the crystal-clear waters. Eric and I had tried to be consistent at the gym for the past year. They could have been better, but safe to say our young bodies had toned up nicely. I kept drooling over his svelte arms, back and legs whenever he would do a backstroke! Haha! (Turns pink)

As the water washed over us, and the sun cast a pink and orange blanket on the horizon, we melted in contentment, kissing at the beautiful experience we were having. Then our stomach rumbled in hunger. A jealous mistress asking for her dues.

Nice – The queen of the Cote d’Azur

The Riviera beauty, Nice, was the embodiment of joie-de-vivre. Her very essence radiated the warmth and vibrancy of the Mediterranean sun. Her sun-kissed countenance was a siren, drawing in lovers from far and wide. Her hair, a cascade of ochre rooftops, danced in the salty breeze. Her perfume was a heady mix of jasmine and the sea.

Her streets were like veins, pulsing with life. The Promenade des Anglaise, her most famous artery, was adorned by her loyal courtiers; palm trees standing tall and proud yet swaying like flamenco dancers. Her beaches were her lovers. Golden sand caressed by waves as turquoise as her mood. The sea crashed against the rocks like a lover’s heartbeat.

Nice moved through the world with a natural pose that bespoke of her innate confidence. Yet beneath her sun-drenched allure, she possessed a cultured intellect that belied her youthful beauty. Her love of art and culture shone through in the elegant architecture that adorned her historic quarters, a reflection of her refined sensibilities. And in the flavors that danced across the tongue in her renowned cuisine, one could taste the depth of her centuries-old heritage. Elegant and carefree, Nice is a woman to be loved, admired and endlessly explored.

We spent my birthday meandering through Nice. Our hearts beating as one as we admired all the beauty and splendor that the city had to offer. In the evening, we strolled to The Radisson Blue Hotel, where we cut the cake and had the waitresses and neighboring customers harmonise the esteemed birthday song. As we left, one of the waitresses handed us a flyer for Le Carnaval de Nice. I don't have much of a recollection of this night except the blaring music, festival colours and the few faces that talked to us as we jumped around to Techno music until the sun peeked in the distance.

Beaulieu-sur-Mer, Antibes

The charming old town of Beaulieu-sur-Mer with its winding streets and quaint shops was a world away from the bustling crowds. The historic Villa Kerylos and the golden sand beaches that stretched out as far as the eye could see were a sight for sore eyes. We relished some pasta at Maonas before heading to our final stop, Antibes.

No visit to Antibes would be complete without a stroll along the Sentier du Littoral, the coastal path offering breathtaking vistas of the rugged Cote d’Azur. We meandered past yachts bobbing in the harbor, pausing to admire the 16th-century Chateau Grimaldi and its renowned Picasso Museum.

Eric found the perfect spot to watch our last day’s sunset – a tucked-away cove where the crashing waves provided a soothing soundtrack to our quiet reflections of the trip’s adventures. As the last rays of daylight faded, I knew this memory of our time in the French Riviera would forever be etched in our hearts and minds- a vibrant tapestry of laughter, beauty and the cherished companionship of my beloved. As if hearing my thoughts, he cupped my chin and landed the softest kiss on my lips.

"I love you."

*

“Hey, have you heard? There is a heatwave in Lyon today,“ my manager declared as he walked into my office, snapping me out of my reverie…