Our first outing in Nice was the Chagall Museum which we could not find on our previous visit. It's a miracle we found it this time. The entire public transportation system has been redesigned, so that the maps are wrong, the websites are wrong and the apps are wrong. We have been given wrong information by bus drivers in almost every situation. A seat mate yesterday explained that the bus lines have been redesigned and the numbers on the buses are meaningless. The 8 bus is really some version of the 12, and the 8 no longer exists, even though we just rode on one an hour ago. The bus driver explains that yes he is driving the 8 but it isn't his line and he doesn't know where it goes. Usually we just tell the driver where we want to go and he/she says get in the bus and I'll tell you where to get off and what to transfer to. The last part is almost always wrong, but the spirit is helpful.
So we make our decision about how to get someplace by a kind of consensus of misinformation, process of elimination.
But we did want to see the Chagalls.
The next day we doubled-down and found our way at last to the Villa Ephrussi, the villa of the Baroness de Rothchild, which we had also missed during our last visit. Putting aside the haphazard public transport that got us there, it was a delightful visit.
We started, of course, with lunch.
The inside of the villa is a bit odd, designed around a central room called the patio. It is an eccentric version of a Roman villa, furnished with objects from Versailles and similar locations.
Louis XVI furnishings...
A firescreen owned by Marie Antoinette.
The lady's bedroom with a dress ready for changing.
The baroness had an extensive collection of porcelain. This set includes musical instruments in the central motif. The music shown is different in each piece.
My favorite.
In case you should forget that you are in the French Riviera.
After we saw the film outlining the baroness's life, we spent some time in the gardens.
We could see the general layout from the terrace of the villa. Now it was time to walk through it.
Looking back at the Villa from the central gardens.
The garden visit culminates with amplified music choreographing the dancing fountains.
And a tiny visitor unimpressed by all the glamour and glory.
Then it was back to the challenges of public transport, aided this time by two helpful Nicoises, who guided us to the right stops and the right buses, and one bus driver who confessed she had no idea what number bus we should take but she knew the stop we should wait at. With all that help, we got home without a hitch.
Our next Nice adventure was a visit to the Fondation Maeght near St. Paul de Vence. The map, app and websites gave no help about how to get to our destination, but a kindly bus driver took us under his wing and outlined a completely new route, which was almost right. But we got there, none-the-less.
The museum is behind a large sculpture garden, just a few Calders and Miros out in the yard.
The museum was dominated by a temporary show about Miro, which in true French form, had about four times the number of works one could take in at a time. But it was interesting to see how the artist made his copper printing plates and then embellished the prints differently each time.
Below, the print was the same, but completed differently.
A view of the sculpture garden from a roof terrace.
We held our breath and headed back to the bus stop where we successfully retraced our steps for the first time without a hiccup. That is, if you don't count the tickets we were given by the bus driver that were to transfer us to the tram. At the end of our tram ride the tickets would not work, so we got a kindly lecture about what ticket to ask for next time, and a way out to the world.
Our last day in Nice was transport-free as we finally took a walk through the old town. We stopped at a crowd waiting to enter a vide grenier (empty attic = garage sale) at a church. The powers that were opened 15 minutes late, and only then did we discover that the chapel holding the good stuff as already full of shoppers and we would need to get a number and wait our turn. We waited ourselves right outta there, stopping briefly to look at the church itself.
And then it was off to town.
We walked first through Place Massena...
Then made our way to the Cours Saleya, the old market. There were many of the usual suspects -- fruits and veggies, sausages and fish, as well as lavender and honey from the region. The displays of herbs and spices were the most interesting to me.
Sadly, it was too early in the morning to justify a stop at the ice cream store.
Or the oldest distillery in town, for that matter.
But the old town had lots of charm.
This is a socca seller riding his oven to wherever he was going to set up shop. Socca are a crepe-like fried bread made from chickpea flour and lots and lots of olive oil, salt and pepper. Mighty tasty.
After a light lunch we headed back to the rental apartment to pack and tidy up before our departure for Paris. In the evening we went out for a modest Italian dinner, and a walk along the Promenade des Anglais, which was designed for those who cared to see and be seen.
The Negresco is the most famous of the seaside hotels. Supposedly the elderly owner still lives in the cupola.
The beaches were almost abandoned, but we got an idea of what it must be like during the day in high season.
If you look carefully you can see the young woman pushing the baby carriage in roller blades.
It was sharp-eyed Tom who realized that this hotel's gaudy paint-job was actually done with lights. It's probably boring white in daylight.
And on that colorful note, we returned to the apartment for our last night in Nice.
was pretty remarkable. 
