We're in the American bar. How I wished I could have taken several photographs here. It's a beautiful room, dimly lit as you see. There's a wonderful long bar, a piano player in the far corner, elegant waiters - but mostly it's the clientele I'd wanted to photograph: a striking lady - of un certain age - elegant grey hair, a great slash of the reddest lipstick, a blond mink draped over her chair. Older men with gorgeous girls - wasn't it ever thus? A group of five young men with a dog jumping up for treats. . Now really I should have asked them if I could photograph the dog for Riviera Dogs but I was enjoying my champagne too much. The place was packed, the buzz palpable. A great place to sit and people-watch - but discreetly, doncha know? And really you can't take photographs...
We are drinking pink champagne. All the goodies on the table come with the drinks. In the foreground, to the right, you see a local speciality, particularly in Nice and Menton, called Barbajuan. Literally, Uncle John in Niçois, these are a sort of fried ravioli, usually stuffed with Swiss chard (a sort of spinach) and ricotta cheese. They are served warm and you dip them in the spicy orange sauce you see to the left. There are olives with garlic. The little green things look like peas and are crunchy. And the sticks in the background are light as air.
And yes, my companion smokes. Not sure what he'll do on the first of January when smoking is banned in restaurants and bars in France and I believe in Monaco too. He lives in Monaco where I'm told it is even to be banned in the streets as well, but honestly I find that hard to believe - how would they police it?