LOVE LETTER TO NICE

THIS IS DEDICATED TO THE LOCALS WHO BECAME MY FRIENDS AND TREATED ME AS ONE OF THEIR OWN. IT WAS AN HONOR TO BE ABLE TO SHARE THE CULTURE THE RIVIERA HAS TO OFFER. Life is slow here. they taught me to live with intention and grace.

It is a well kept secret that the Riviera is for lovers. Tourists flood the streets of Paris in the summertime to watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle or to kiss their sweetheart on the river. Yet, the true dreamers flock towards the sea as an effort to find themselves. Nice is in servitude to the hopeless romantics of the world. I am blessed to say the city has grown to be a dear friend of mine. France knows my heart at a depth no lover ever could.

I wonder how she could love a girl like me; I am impulsive and overindulgent and selfish. I am no different than the kings that used her name in vain. She has seen the ugly parts of my soul and still engulfs me in beauty. Her love is motherly and it is unconditional. I am spoiled rotten but she loves me anyways. I too choose to love her; I see her flaws but embrace them with open arms. Her streets harbor starving artists and conmen. The tram smells like urine and the alleys have hot trash bags in piles that are as tall as me. As you get closer to the sea, the air is fresh and romantic. Anyone could fall in love here, it would be heartless not to. If you stay in the city for too long, you will start to see her ugly. Nice and me are both easy to love for a few days.

Your heart must be on your sleeve to see the things I did and meet the people I loved. This city is for the self-proclaimed artists, for the people who know there is more to life than working and dying and for the loners that look for home in everyone they meet. I hope to personify Nice as a woman like me; beautiful and warm in photographs, but once you get the chance to love her you realize how dirty and cold she is at her core.

I did not expect to find God in a dirty bar in Old Town, but my friends and I will swear to you he is a regular at Paddy’s. I suggest you come here if you are looking for a slice of love and a glimmer of hope. When you arrive, you will probably see Leo and his band on the stage. Leo is the lead singer from Puerto Rico, he is full of fire and life. He is intense, but he is always kind to my friends and I. We respect each other for our need to create art. Old Nice’s cobblestone streets are the veins of the city, and Leo’s band pumps music through them like oxygen.This bar is the backbone for the Nice I know. It is where the lovers go to dance and the lonely go to watch. This is the most comfortable bar I’ve been to in the city, because unlike the others you cannot tell who is a lover and who is a loner. This hole in the wall welcomes other artists, like me, with open arms to ensure we keep creating. It has been like a factory of life changing experience.

Words will never give justice to feelings I have while indulging in art. I feel mischievous when I get this rush from art. It retrieves that feeling of stealing a cookie from the jar when your grandmother has her back turned. I feel sneaky as if I am learning forbidden knowledge about the world, but it is available to everyone. Dedicating yourself to art is like the temptation of the cookie jar on your grandmother’s counter; only the lustful and fearless will reach their hand in and be unafraid of the inevitable slap on their wrist. france made me feel like a MISCHIEVOUS little girl again.

There is nothing wrong about the feelings I get from art, but society trains us that art isn’t “serious” enough. Growing up in America I thought there was only one way of life; graduate college, get married, have kids and work until you die. It felt like a sinful desire to indulge in art in the way I do. Art and I have a secret affair; she is the mistress full of life and my wife is my 9-5 that I have to convince myself I still love. france taught me there is so much more to life. there is so much to love and learn if you’re fearless. Nice is the perfect city to surrender yourself in. The more you dedicate yourself to being immersed in the art around you, the quieter the city around you gets.

i spent my 21st birthday surrounded by people i never imagined i would be lucky enough to love. we had a birthday party and sang and drank and laughed all night long. i will keep this night in my heart.

i will never forget you and your beautiful smile.

I am writing to you from my balcony, in the heart of Nice. My eyes are bouncing between looking at the stars and skyline of the city. When I turn my head, I can see into the apartment complex across the street. I am unsure if my curiosity was intrusive, I felt like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window. It seems Nice has taught me everything but self control, so I will spy on my neighbors of Rue Guberlais. I could see a woman smiling to herself as she laid across the couch- her lover opened a bottle of wine. Soon enough, the curtains close. I focus my attention next door, where a man is sitting at his dining room table alone. I decided to call him Mr. Lonely Hearts, as an homage to Jimmy. When I look down, I see couples stumbling home from the bars of Old Nice and using each other to stand up straight. It is beautiful to see others in love on the streets, even if it was just for the night. Then I realized, I am the last one left in this picture; and I am alone. I was a lover and a loner this summer; I am everything and its opposite, just like Nice. Nice and I belong to no one. She is known as Nice, France; but she is so much more than France. I am Madison Scott, but I am so much more than a Scott. She is a cup of France and a cup of Italy, with a dash of Greece. Nice and I love each other because we are both consumed by our duality. I always thought I was like Phoenix; bipolar in temperature but always home to someone. After my month in the Mediterranean, I am proud to say I am a cup of Phoenix and a cup of Nice, with a dash of the people I loved along the way.