Nimes

The bus ride to the Pont du Gard cost €10.70. The whole ride I was just hoping to myself that it was worth it… and it definitely is. I am sitting along the bank of the Gardon, with the Pont du Gard to my left, and excited tourists bathing in the river in front of me. Unfortunately I didn’t follow my English friend’s advice in Nice, and bring my bathing suit, so I am stuck in my clothing dipping my feet into the water.
My worries about spending money began yesterday, when I paid €7.50 for entry into La Maison Carree and the Arena in Nimes. Both were quite underwhelming. As I thought before, the Arena is a boot leg version of the Coliseum. The La Maison Carree on the other hand, I had high hopes for. From the outside, the monument is beautiful, well made and amazingly preserved. The inside is another matter. I soon figured out that I did not pay for entry into a whatever century Roman monument, but rather a cinema to watch the “Heroes of Nime”. Instead of keeping the architectural integrity of the building, the Nimean Tourist Association or whoever the blasphemers are, converted the inside into a mini theater! And not only that, but to play the cheesiest bit of propaganda I have ever seen. I realize I sound bitter, but I was. About three minutes into the film I was ready to walk out, but decided instead to appreciate where I was—in an air conditioned Roman temple in the South of France. Alright, I’m okay.
I was super tired from another full day of traveling, so I decided to make it another early night. On my way back, I saw progressively more and more vendors setting up booths along all the roads, and found out that that night Nimes had a street market that spanned the entire Centro. Bands were playing at the main squares, many playing American classics (think Sinead O’Conner and Shania Twain), and street vendors were selling art, jewelry, clothing, food and whatever else. It reminded me of the Sawdust Festival in Laguna Beach, but on a much larger scale. It was definitely a nice surprise to run into that, otherwise nightlife in Nimes is non-existent unless you are one of those commie-bar sorts.
Which leads me to my next story… That night, or rather morning, I woke up to the sound of loud French voices yelling at each other; there were maybe 3 or 4 different voices. My window, four floors up, faces the street so I can hear just about everything that goes down on the street below. My memory is slightly hazy, as I was just barely awake, but I remember the loud voices, one very angry and the other very scared and then a car zooming by really fast. I never really did find out what happened, but that night I distinctly remember having dreams about the Italian Mafia taking moving in on Nimes and grenades being thrown into my window. This is what happens when I let my imagination roam free.
In any case, I am at the Pont du Gard now, enjoying every second of it. If only I brought my bathing suit…