After a long and windy road out of the Nice, we pulled up to a tiny little gate. Entering found us a…oh gosh, I don’t even have the words to explain it the right way…well, the building was L-shaped, open to a gravel parking lot. One guy came up to help me carry my bag to the reception desk and upon thanking him I got a, “no wurries!” I turned back in confusion as he walked away…aussie? We walked up to the desk and I heard chatter, in English, but with a slightly different pace and was welcomed with a hearty, “good’ay!” Yep. This place was run by a load of aussies! And as it later turned out, Brits and New Zealanders. It was a strange new world we’d stepped into. The guy at the desk picked up the phone and said, in a very poor accent, “parlez-vous anglais?” and then handed off the phone to the one guy in the room that spoke French like it was a baby with a dirty diaper. Posters lined the walls with possibilities for outdoor excursions; canyoning, water skiing, rapelling, everything. We were shown to the “chapel” (we think because of the stained glass wall on the inside) which was a huge two-story vaulted ceiling room buzzing with American radio music and chatter of people chilling on the couches or at the 24 hour open access computers with free internet (and wi-fi throughout the entire complex).
I could go on about this place for a long time, trying to explain the unique vibe it had. It was almost like…the ultimate summer camp for young adults. I felt like every other person we talked to was Aussie, but there were also several Londoners , and they were all pretty much your young, university aged, bright-eyed adventurous back-packers, which was a change after the spread of continents, age groups, and walks of life at the Marseille hostel. While the diversity of Marseille fascinated me, I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say I felt more chill and comfortable here. It was really weird hearing all the English though, sort of like a bubble world, detached from the fact that we were still in France. Probably the only downside to the place. Dinner was AMAZING. The chef must have been a retired gourmet chef or something because the food truly was sublime and we were getting fed risotto or salmon for a scant 5 euro. House beer is just a euro, but I swear everyone was walking around with a bottle of bring-your-own-wine in hand. From about 6pm to upwards of 2am The Chapel is loud and comfortably crowded and buzzing with music and voices. And let’s be honest, it was an attractive crowd, but then I’ll admit my preferential bias; throw me a tall, slightly scruffy brunette with an aussie accent and at least half a personality and I’m likely to start giggling like a school girl, nondiscriminate of my relationship status. It sort of amused me how many girls look like they got dressed up just for dinner and hanging out in the chapel afterwards, I can only imagine how many hookups were probably going on under the radar.
Ok, good food, incredibly social…what else…oh. The rooms. We were in two rooms. The first of which I think I described to Sandra as a WWII underground bunker. It was a winding series of two connected bunk beded rooms, but the rooms had an in house bathroom and shower room, and plenty of space for luggage storage. The second room we were in was smaller and more…quaint, with bathrooms just down the hall.
I seriously could go on a lot longer singing my praises to the place, given how social it is, it looks like it would be a great place to work, if it weren’t for having to go through the trouble of getting a bloody working visa, I’d probably be seriously looking into going back for work after Uganda (I still have no clue what I’m doing with my life July/August). In any case, if you’re ever in Nice…stay at Villa Saint-Exupery. The staff is super accommodating and friendly, the vibe is chill and social, and the amenities are great, new, and super clean.
No comments:
Post a Comment