
Private journey
The airport sits at the western end of this coast, so the first base is western too. The instinct after a long flight is to drive straight into Nice — which buys an hour of city traffic and a first evening spent looking for dinner. Going ten minutes the other way buys a hill village at dusk instead, and puts Antibes and Cannes within half an hour of the door tomorrow. The price is that you do not see Nice until the third evening.
Antibes takes the morning and Cannes the afternoon, not the other way round. The Marché Provençal empties before one o'clock and the Picasso collection is worth seeing while the light still comes up off the water; neither survives being pushed to three. Cannes is a boulevard and a staircase — it holds up perfectly well in flat afternoon light and needs ninety minutes, not a day. Giving it more would mean giving Antibes less, and Antibes is the better town.
The base changes on the one day the car is driving east anyway, and the bags never come out of it — so the move costs a key card and nothing else. Monaco takes the middle day on purpose. It is the loudest hour on this coast, and a loud hour works better as a hinge than as a finale: put it last and the two quiet days before it read as a warm-up.
This day turns on one small piece of engineering: the Art-Deco lift up Castle Hill. The climb is not long but it is steep, and it quietly decides how much afternoon anyone has left. Take the lift and both the villa and the vineyard survive; take the stairs and one of them gets cut on the spot. On a five-day journey almost every decision is that decision — not what to see, but what the last thing cost the next thing.
The last morning is a market, not a monument. Cours Saleya was yesterday and it is half flowers and half visitors; Libération is where the city buys lunch, and it is on the way out of town. Five days is not long enough to end on something big, so we end on something true instead — food eaten standing up, in a place that would be there whether we came or not.
Out of the tunnel and into the light, Port Hercule opening up all at once — and the driver already has the music cued.
The obvious version of France in five days is four cities and three of them seen through a window. This one does the opposite: it picks sixty-odd kilometres of coast and refuses to leave them. Two bases, not one and not four — west for Antibes and Cannes, east for Monaco, Cap Ferrat and Nice — with the single move made on the day the car is driving east anyway and the luggage never unloaded. That one decision is worth about half a day, and half a day is ten per cent of this journey. What it costs is everything inland: no Provence, no Verdon, no Saint-Tropez. What it buys is five mornings that start where they finished, and a coast you come to know at the level of which market is still open at noon.
ZeL CuraTours operates in partnership with Boustead Travel Services Sdn Bhd, a licensed Malaysian travel agency · KPK/LN 10169
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