A couple of days ago, Kevin & I took a little holiday. Yes, I know. It sounds weirdly decadent to take a holiday while on a two-month sabbatical in France. But it is what it is.

We left our friends in charge of the watering of the garden, hopped in our little Renault rental and zoomed toward the coast. Zoomed being the operative word, as we held our own with the posted highway speeds of 130 km/h and still had people passing us like we were dawdling fools.

We hit the coast just past St. Tropez and drove the rest of the way with the Mediterranean in sight.  I confess that I missed a bit of the coastline as I nodded and drooled in the passenger seat. But still, it was beautiful when I actually woke up.

And then…we arrived in Nice.

Six years ago, we celebrated my 46th birthday in Nice. We had been staying in Villefranche-sur-Mer and drove in for the evening. I knew that I’d loved the city but I could no longer remember exactly what it was about it that made me think that.

So this time I’m making some notes. Writing it down. Right here. Right now.

We’ve sussed out quite a few villages and cities in our time here in France and we’re pretty good at determining the ‘just-right-for-us-factors’  that include, but are not limited to, the following;

Cafes, restaurants, bookstores, public art, art galleries, shopping both high-end and low-end individual stores, interesting architecture, gardens, public spaces, good weather, and a general vibe that mixes productivity with leisure.

Nice hits the mark on all counts. Add in the huge beach scene with the Promenade des Anglais filled with cyclists, strolling pedestrians and an air of relaxation with the palm trees and restaurants, and life looks pretty good.

It’s kind of a Goldilocks thing; not too big, not to small…Nice is just right.

And then you have the incredible buildings with Belle-Epoque and Nouveau and Baroque-style stuffed beside 70s-era huge-patio apartments.

Imagine throwing South Beach Miami, Waikiki, Rome & Paris into a big (tres, tres grand!) Mix Master.

Voila! You have Nice.

Nice didn’t officially become part of France until 1860. Prior to that she (for surely Nice is of the feminine persuasion?) was part of the Italian dominion.

When we wandered into the streets of the old city, it felt like we’d been transported into a side street in Sicily with the overflowing fruit vendors, the butchers and the laundry hanging from the shuttered windows in the narrow alleys.

With a population of a million people, a slick-looking transit system and those breezy palm trees, Nice has moved up into one of my top choices for a visit to France.

Apparently I’m not alone. Nice is second only to Paris in the number of visitors each year.

Next time we come to France? First stop will be Nice…because Nice is really, really nice.