Puzzled

And she doesn’t, not a single time in fact. It makes my tailing much easier, for there is literally nowhere for me to hide. At this hour there aren’t many people out on the streets and shops aren’t opened yet.

We reach the Old Town.

She slows down, pulls her mobile out and takes some more pictures.

Tired of holding Domino in my arms, I let him down but, just in case, have him on a short leash.

After an hour of walking she comes to the Cours Saleya [13 - Cours Saleya hosts four different markets. The most well known is the Marché aux Fleurs, or Flower Market. It’s actually a combination of the flower market and the fruit and vegetable market but the name, Marché aux Fleurs is commonly applied to the whole thing. The fruit and vegetable stands pack up by 13.30 in the afternoon but the flower stalls stay open until about 17.30.]market, lined with colourful fruit and vegetables stalls and cluttered with huge buckets of fresh flowers.

My stomach grumbles, reminding that I haven’t eaten since six in the morning.

Manoeuvring between the stalls, I pretend to be looking at displays and at the same time try not to lose sight of her. But mesmerised as she is by the tempting displays, she seems in no hurry to leave the market.

Having visited every stall and taken dozens of snapshots, she comes to a flower seller.

I stop at a stall next to his.

Picking through mandarins, I try to listen to the chat, but can make out very little of it except that the seller attempts to compliment her in his broken English.

“Monsieur, you’ve already picked through my whole box of mandarins! Are you looking for some special one?!” An elderly market-woman at the mandarins stall addresses me.

“Oh, pardon me. I must have spaced out”, I mumble, turning red, and move away from the stall.

Meanwhile, having exchanged pleasantries with the flower seller, she buys a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums from him. Pressing the flowers against her chest, she leaves the market, strolls along the Quai des Etats Unis[14 - Quai des Etats-Unis divides the Old Town (Vieux Nice) from the seafront. It’s lined by shops, hotels and the restored 19th century terrasses.], and, reaching the entrance of the Swiss Hotel, walks in.

I wait then go in and walk up to the reception desk.

“Bonjour, I’m looking for Mademoiselle…” I begin but stop short.

“Yes, Monsieur?”

I stare at the receptionist for a few seconds then finally utter the name. She types it in, studies something in her computer then replies:

“I’m sorry, Monsieur, but there must be some mistake. There are no clients under this name registered in our system.”

Episode 24 – A Holiday Fling

Swiss Hotel, Nice, 27 December 2010

I get into the hotel elevator and bury my face in the chrysanthemums’ heads. I love those fragile looking yet long lasting flowers. Their appearance in late autumn signals to me the arrival of winter magic.

Back in my room, I look for a vase. Not finding one, I call the reception.

Soon, my efforts in flower arrangement bring a touch of tenderness into existence on my night table: a welcome kiss of the Côte d’Azur.

Lying down on the bed, I look through photographs taken during my morning walk. The ones of the beach and the market seem to be especially good.

I choose some and upload them on Facebook. Instantly, a comment from Nicolas arrives:

Is it your take on ‘the lady with the dog’?[15 - The Lady with the Dog (Russian: Dama s sobachkoy) is a short story by Anton Chekhov first published in 1899. It tells the story of an adulterous affair between a Russian banker and a young lady he meets while vacationing in Yalta.] Only in this instant the lady takes a pic of the dog… And who’s that guy next to it, your holiday fling? :-)

I type:

Ha-ha, have you been thinking of your literary ex again? Yes, my holiday fling… Are you jealous? :-)

I wait. He doesn’t respond. I log out of Facebook and go to my inbox to check for the reply from my electronic admire, but no luck there.

Shutting the laptop, I throw a glance out the window and see a patch of sky – the bright blue.

A sun ray falls onto my face. Caressing, it warms and lulls me at the same time.

Someone knocks at the door.

I listen, but all is quiet. I must have imagined it.

I get up and come to the window. Before me, a shimmering ribbon of lights winds away into the night. Admiring the view, I stand by the window a while, then swing it open. A breath of cold air enters the room, immediately giving me goose bumps. Humid, the air smells of seaweeds and salt.

The next moment, somebody’s arms are thrown around me. I find myself locked in a warm embrace, a male body passionately pressing against me.

“Chérie…” He whispers.

The embrace seems so cordial, so invigoratingly familiar. Trying to grasp the fleeting yet persisting memory, I’m about to turn around, but hear a loud knock at the door. Then a key is inserted into the lock.

I open my eyes and see a chambermaid walking in.

“Pardon, madame”, she says, startled. “I’ve knocked, but there was no reply. I thought the room’s empty. Would you like your bed to be turndown?”

Episode 25 – Obviously

Le Negresco Hotel, Nice, 27 December 2010

I send the chambermaid away and get ready for diner. As it turns out, lunch I have missed already.

Suddenly, I feel like going somewhere chic, a gourmet establishment of some sort with white crisp table clothes, polished silver wear, menus bursting a variety of French delicacies, and accommodating staff.

I think of an appropriate place – Le Chantecler restaurant in the opulently elegant Le Negresco hotel.

I don’t have a reservation, but it doesn’t discourage me. I call for a taxi and go downstairs. The hotel is just fifteen minutes walk away but tonight I’m in the mood for a bit of indulgence.

At the entrance to the restaurant, a headwaiter greets me. A sound of clinking and clattering flows out of the Dinning Room. Schooled waiters move swiftly between the tables, serving their high-end clientele.

“Bonsoir, Mademoiselle, do you have a reservation?” The headwaiter asks.

“As a matter of fact I don’t…” I reply.

His eyebrow flies up.

“The thing is…” I begin.