We started our journey in Monte Carlo, but Nice was the first French city where we actually stayed. I have many fond memories of Nice from my childhood. I remember the gentle curve of the city hugging the Mediterranean, the soft sound of the waves, and playing on the pebbled beach with plastic rubber shoes to protect our feet. It felt both familiar and fresh to return—like stepping back into a place that had quietly waited for me all these years.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about going back—spending a couple of weeks somewhere along the Mediterranean during the summer. There’s something about the pace of life, the light, the food, the sea—it all pulls at me. I just feel drawn to the area, like it’s a place I’m meant to return to, not just visit.

Of course, there are the churches, narrow streets, and little shops to wander through—each with its own charm.

You can’t miss the statues tucked into quiet corners or standing proudly in open squares, and the wide boulevards that seem to invite you to slow down and take your time. It’s a place meant for wandering, not rushing.

We took a short trip to Arles, a town that feels like it’s full of secrets waiting to be discovered. So many doors to open, church towers to admire, and quiet corners that seem to whisper stories from centuries past. It’s the kind of place where every turn feels like a little invitation to explore.

On to Avignon

A trip to Avignon wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the famous bridge from the ballads—“Sur le Pont d’Avignon.” Construction began in 1177 and was completed in 1185, making it the only bridge across the Rhône between Lyon and the Mediterranean at the time. The town flourished thanks to the commerce and tolls that passed over it. Later, in the 14th century, the Popes moved to Avignon, giving the city even greater significance. Though much of the bridge fell into disrepair by the 17th century, four arches and the lower chapel still remain today. Standing there, it’s easy to imagine the music, the movement, and the centuries of life that once passed across it.

Avignon itself has a great deal of old-world beauty and charm. From the stone walls and winding streets to the quiet courtyards and sun-drenched cafés, the city feels timeless. It’s the kind of place where history isn’t just preserved—it’s lived in, layered into the rhythm of daily life.

Incredibly, there are still Roman aqueducts standing today—massive feats of engineering that have endured for over 2,000 years. It makes you wonder: will anything we build today still be here two millennia from now? There’s something humbling about walking beneath those ancient arches, knowing they’ve carried water, weathered wars, and watched centuries unfold.

We made a brief stop in Chapaize, a small town with a quiet charm all its own. The Romanesque church was the centrepiece—simple, striking, and full of history. The rest of the town was just as lovely, with narrow lanes, stone buildings, and that peaceful feeling you only get in little places tucked away from the main road.

We continued on to Lyon, a city that sits gracefully along the Rhône. I found it to be especially beautiful, with its mix of old and new, and a majestic cathedral perched high on the hill, keeping watch over the city below. As in Lisbon, there happened to be a protest going on—this one for animal rights—which added a bit of modern energy to the historical streets. One small moment that really stayed with me: spotting an old Citroën parked nearby. Something about that classic French car brought back memories of my step-grandfather, Papi. It was a quiet, personal connection in the middle of a bustling city, and a lovely reminder of how travel can link past and present in unexpected ways.

We ended our trip in Paris, a city that never fails to stir something in me. If I went to Paris a hundred times, I’d never tire of it. There’s something about the streets, the energy, the way the light falls on the buildings—I’ve always just felt like I belong there. It was the perfect place to end a trip that was filled with beauty, history, and quiet moments of connection. From the vineyards of the Rhône to the pebbled beaches of Nice, each stop left its own imprint. And as always, it’s the little things—the familiar smells, an old car, a glimpse of the sea—that stay with me long after the journey ends.