One day I woke up in a small resort town in between Cannes and Nice that rests on the edge of the Mediterranean coastline; Antibes. The beginning of the European summer season had arrived; three months of the year when most French people are cheerful under the warm cloudless sky. The tourist seek out to see all the attractions and live for the ultimate French Riviera experience. I sat up on the bed and alone I was not. She was curled up like a cat, dreaming peacefully. She was a beautiful creature. She could sleep forever. Mon amour had earned the title as the “La belle de sommeil du sud de la France." La petite princesse could sleep all day and all night without movement. If a prince came to give her a magical touch from his soft lips onto her cheek and tried to awaken her with a hint of hope that she would rise up from the deep deep sleep to live for a new adventure, it would have never worked. It required more effort than a kiss; a gentle touch, a soft voice, affectional smooching, and a lot of time; hours of work. A man can only give in a certain amount of time and do the necessary tasks in life that is required to keep the fire burning in a relationship, but he must also live his life and not be dependent on other people as time is precious.
I walked out of our bedroom, looking down at my feet as I made loud movements without a care in the world. Descending down the tightly curved staircase and entered into the kitchen for l'espresso, pain au chocolat et fumé une cigarette afterward in front of the computer. The conception of the first iPhone had made headlines around the world. Fascinated and curious, I read more about the device in both languages, English and French. A new age had arrived and the Smartphone already made a huge impact on the world.
Mid-day came around quicker than expected and she was still glued to the bed, it made me mad and left me wondering if there was something wrong with her wellbeing; it was not normal for a twenty-one-year-old female to sleep all day. I continued to search on the mac for something to do upon the glorious blue-sky day as time ticked away and did not want to let another minute pass by. There was no reason for me to wait for someone or something to happen. Adventurous at twenty-five to explore the French culture as I cannot live forever young. All the excitement on the internet had directed me towards Nice for a weekend of pleasure and entertainment; street markets, the beach, live music, and good southern French food. I was convinced that there was no time to waste. I tiptoed into the bedroom for the first time as I made my way towards the nightstand and reached out for her car keys from the table, even though I had no permit to drive in France. I sat in the Twingo for a minute or two and took a deep breath before I kick-started the engine and I drove to the city that was known as the foolish or stupid in Latin nescius. There was emotional enlightenment of liberty that ran through my mixed emotions along with guilt to explore the city of Nice on my own terms as I turned onto the freeway nervously.
A beer was in demand after I packed the car: steering the wheels on the opposite side of the car and rolling on the opposite side of the road was nerve-racking. I had missed the exit on the freeway. The waiter placed the beer on the little round table with a thud and I took a good mouthful of the Kronenbourg as the afternoon sun was beating down onto my forehead. I sat comfortably and watched the sunset sunk into the Azure blue water while I listened to the rhythmic waves brushing against the pebbles on the shore. I heard an argument behind me between a young couple. I switched off my hearing aid and let my eyes be entertained by the transition of the colours in the sky that changed from bright to dark.
The buildings in Vieille Ville are full of orange-yellow texture with boutique shops, bars, and terraces to enjoy an evening Nicoise meal. I found a place that had served Socca; crispy chickpea pancake. There was something unique about the local dish. Quick and easy but also tasty. Life was good after the fast feed. The town is picturesque with its narrow alleyways along with the cobblestone streets; a photographer's heaven. The moon was clear in the starry sky and it was time to hunt for some live musique and be lost into the nightlife of the capital of the Alpes-Maritimes.
I found my way out of the narrow maze and stood cluelessly in front of Town Hall. It was late at night and there were many missed calls. I ignored them on purpose; She was not happy. There was a large crowd in front of a bar around the corner of the 18th-century building that took my attention away from the fear and focused it on the rhythm and blues of the sound of rock 'n' roll as I moved towards it, controlling my hips and legs. The bar was named after a movie about Wayne Campbell. The people in the bar spoke with mixed languages and the lineup for a drink did not come around fast enough, giving me no choice but to order three bottles of beers to avoid another lineup. Snaking and sliding my body towards the stage to watch the English band as they kicked off a song from The Killers, Somebody told me. The crowd was dancing all around me on top of the long wooden tables. I felt right at home and although I knew nobody I fell right into my element. A group of strangers helped me up onto a table and there was a clear sign that the night would transform into an unforgettable soirée in the south of France without the difficulty of Sleeping Beauty souring the vibe.
Snap, snap, and snap I clicked away with my Sony digital camera, aiming at the stage and taking the occasional selfies with my new friends from Germany. I had never smiled so openly in front of a camera. A night of random conversations with strangers with a relief to speak my native tongue again without thinking twice. Learning a language can be frustrating and there are times that the brain needs to let loose but when your partner doesn't speak English, it is a difficult situation. I was instantly drawn to a group of Germans leading to an Irish bar at three in the morning after Wayne's World. There I would meet one of the most beautiful girls I had ever met, Violet from Hamburg, I was in heart-melting love. Her clear eyes were so beautiful that I got lost. Her skin was tanned brown like the colour of her long wavey hair. I felt excited when I touched her skin. La fille sommeil du sud de la France was forgotten, along with the seventeen missed calls. Violet and I merged into one as we kissed and I slid my hand on her lower back over her white dress and the other hand rested on the side of her face. An intimated act that felt much sweeter than sex. I was ashamed of myself but grateful when I pushed her back gently," I am in a relationship." I said with embarrassment. She gave a one-word syllable response with an "oh" and then she pressed against my chest under the luna for one last time before we departed our separate ways. A kiss to never be forgotten.
La Voiture was not easy to find. There are far too many cars in France that looked similar; small and Renault. Countless tries to find the correct door and eventually the key slotted into the correct door and fell into the seat but the ignition was in front of an empty seat, "Damn it, I did it again!" I said with disappointment. I locked the car and wound down the window an inch to allow the cool temperature sea breeze to enter into the vehicle. I tilted my head against the passager window as I closed my eyes before I said to myself sarcastically, "I'll deal with her tomorrow if she wakes up" and I dropped the keys onto my lap and called out with my eyes half-closed, “Oh Violet” as I felt the soft gentle morning sea breeze brushed against my forehead...
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