day3-downpour, odd nativity scene

We ventured into old quarter of the town for a belated lunch with high spirits. But our high spirits were soon to be lying on the wet pavement, soggy and defeated.

Nice's old town occupies a small area to the east of the city, at the foot of a hill called "le chateau," though there is and has been no chateau on top of it. Right next to the Mediterranean, one could expect some decent seafood restaurants there, according to the travel guide. In summer, that was. There was no restaurants open, other than the overly-priced ones along the tree-lined boulvard, open for helpless tourists trapped in the hybernating city on this Christmas day. Nearly identical appearance of the restaurants with outdoor seatings covered with transparent plastic sheets for warmth, invariable menues in exactly the same price range, and horrible pieces of background music that were cousins to each other didn't tempt our taste buds. One would not expect anything spectacular from those tourist traps. There was one, however, unique-looking restaurant along the same boulvard, with roughly constructed wooden tables and benches and appetizing smell of herbs and spices. It was bustling with diners--way too bustling. There seemed to be no table available next hour at least. Hunger was gone by now, and the mist-like rain has turned to a serious downpour. We took refuge under an awning of a closed restaurant. I didn't want lunch any more, but I wanted to decide what to do next. I was tired of this desperate wander. Charged silence took over the void between us, as if it had been sealed from the continuous noise of the rain hitting the already flooding alleyway.

Bad mood entails irrational compulsion. Now I was fed up with being stuck under the awning. I wanted to be doing something. Anything other than just staring at the rain. I walked to the edge of the awning, pulled out my camera and tried as many compositions possible in the confinement. Some seemed to be interesting, but it didn't kill much time. Partly as a childish gesture of protest to Patrick, who seemed to be determined to stay there until the cloud had dried up entirely, which I suspected would never happen in a million years, I put the hood of over the head and went into the rain, securing the camera under the jacket. Feeling the common pleasure of defiance, I crossed a street to see a small church and a plaza. There was a strange nativity scene set up there, with mannequins--not the commonplace resin figures-- dressed in traditional Coat d'Azul clothing. Their faces--probably fine for a storefront display--were not conveying the holy joy they were supposed to convey. The originality of the nativity scene, though, didn't end there. There was odd smell of maneur floating in the air.

I had a second look at the scene. There was, in front of the mannequins, an area encircled with makeshift fences and filled with once-dried, now-drenched straws. Several wooden wine boxes were placed upside down here and there, and on top of them were roosters and hens, next to which lied a couple of sheep, with their wool coat grey with wet dust. There was even a sleepy-eyed goat, complete with a goaty and a brass bell hanging from its neck. A nativity scene with real animals! That's new, I smiled to myself. The animals looked slightly confused to be taken out of their usual farm, to be placed in such a strange place, and next to some mysterious mannequins, to make matters worse. Probably the mannequins, too, for whom this must have been the very first time to stay outdoor for so long. I went back to Patrick with the discovery, in a little improved mood.


Old town Nice in rain
Originally uploaded by uBookworm.