Bea's House - Part I

I said earlier that I didn't like gawking at rich people's houses, dwelling on things that were well out of my reach. I still mean that, but we did spend most of a day doing exactly that. We visited the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild, a museum. This was Bill's idea; I was rather lukewarm about it but I'm so glad we went. 

This house belonged to Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild (1864 - 1934), a member of the famous Rothschild family. Her life was no doubt glamorous but her marriage was not a success, she was still constrained by the moral attitudes of her day and I'm sure she had plenty of other large and small difficulties, the kinds that money can't fix. Visiting this place didn't make me envy her house so much as her certainty. I didn't so much envy her things as I did her taste. It's one thing to have money; it's another thing to spend it really well. The website says that Beatrice lived somewhere 'between good taste and fantasy.' Sounds like fun to me.

The story of this family is pretty interesting. Certainly it's a testament to the saying, "Don't put all your Fabergé eggs in one basket."  Mayer Rothschild of Frankfurt kept his eldest son with him, but sent the other sons to Vienna, London, Naples and Paris and, voilà, created an international banking family. Beatrice, of the Paris branch, married into the Ephrussi Russian banking family, but I notice she kept her surname; she seems to have largely kept her independence as well. She divorced him because of his gambling debts, but somehow managed to stay on good terms. Enough so that she still inherited a good sum when he died.  

After seeing the house one of her cousins was building at nearby Beaulier sur Mer, she snapped up 17 acres at the narrowest part of the Cap Ferrat. The benefit of this is that standing at the back of her house overlooking the gardens you can see Mediterranean sea on both sides.

Prepare to be overwhelmed. I've included some of both Bill's and my photos and I really struggled to choose which ones. This is why I envy Beatrice her certainty and her taste, that ability to choose. She must have had nearly unlimited options.

We both noted this table was made by René Dubois.
This is a character in a Phryne Fisher novel...must
be a common French name.

The furniture seemed to all be Louis the XVth this or Louis the XVIth that... 

This desk belonged to Marie Antoinette. It had at least one
secret compartment.

Beatrice's boudoir was on the ground floor...guest rooms were upstairs.  

Of course her pets had their own furniture, too.

Travel memorabilia

Have you guessed yet that her favourite colour was pink?

Note bed covering of Chinese silk shawl with fringe.

Embroidery detail on a dress.

A funny little round room with closets...one of which was
a water closet. All the doors have shelves. 

A small dining area.

Sevres china. A musical set:  each piece has the score of a different
piece of classical music.

I lost track of how many extraordinary bits of china were on display. I do recall - not pictured here - there was a set of urinals for the ladies; first I've ever heard of such a thing, but then the stiff corsets and the voluminous gowns must have posed some real challenges.

Of course along with all these beautiful things, one would be distracted by the beautiful views out the windows. Apparently she snapped up this land out from under the nose of her neighbour who was planning to extend his property, the King of Belgium.

The strange thing about seeing all this splendour was that I came away feeling lighthearted and refreshed. I felt really enriched and hoped I'd learned something - it will have to have been by osmosis - that would improve my taste.  Granted, I won't need to choose which piece of Sevres china to purchase or which of Marie Antoinette's possessions, but you get the idea.

And this is just the ground floor...

A Parking Garage

One day Bill and I explored another section of Nice, this time the streets near the Port.  Most looked to be interior decorating shops and, it be being August, were shut.  We did happen upon a place that called itself a 20th Century antiques gallery. Being lovers of art deco as well as art nouveau, we had to look inside.  Sure enough there were some amazing things in there.

Also, we thought they should win an award for "Most Intriguing Use of a Spiral Parking Garage".  The floor space was pretty 'jazzy' itself, always being uphill or down.  A fun place to visit.

Garibaldi Here and There

Of course most of you will have heard of Garibaldi. You know, Guiseppe Garibaldi who lived in the 1800s?  No? There was a Zane Grey theatre production about him, starring Fernando Lamas in 1960, but perhaps you missed that. Perhaps you've never heard of Fernando Lamas either? Perhaps your education in European history is as lacking as mine and you didn't realise that Italy wasn't unified as a single country until, well, mostly in about 1870 but they were still working on it after WWI...apparently it's not that straight forward, in the same way many things in Europe are not. Anyhow, Guiseppe Garibaldi is one of the 'fathers' of unified Italy. You can read all about that on Wikipedia.

His name is on a plaque in Tynemouth, on a building facing the village green where Garibaldi apparently spent over a month in 1854. He's a well-established figure over here, well, at least for anyone who reads blue historic plaques on their way to the beach. There was an Italian restaurant opened at the Metro with the name Garibaldi's. I can't recommend it - and it's changed names several times since. We went soon after it first opened. The food was lovely but the service was diabolical. When I complained the manager said "You no like, you no come back." I've taken his advice to heart. But it's not Guiseppe's fault, that.

There is also a cookie named after him, though over here it's called a biscuit and I've yet to ever meet one. But here's a recipe for you, should you get a hankering for a bit of Anglo-Italian Garibaldi biscuits.

The thing that actually lead me to write about Garibaldi is that I was wondering why we never found the chateau on the hill at Nice. Did we take a wrong turn or something?  So I started digging and came up with this name. A travel website states:

Le Chateau (Castle Hill)
Le Chateau, the shaded hill and park at the eastern end of Quai des Etats-Unis, is named after a 12th century chateau that was razed by Louis XIV in a fit of pique in 1706 and never rebuilt. There are some ruins but not really a chateau to speak of. In the one remaining tower, the 16th century Tour Bellanda, is the Musée Naval.The cemetery where Garibaldi is buried covers the northwest of the park.

Just inside the cemetery a sign says 'no photographs'.
Must as I enjoyed Pere Lachaise, I think that's a lovely idea.

I was intrigued that we'd just been to the birth and burial place of Garibaldi - he covered a lot of ground in between - but I've not been able to confirm the story about Louis XIV.  According to Wikipedia, Garibaldi is buried on the island of Caprera, which seems perhaps more fitting as it is in Italy.

But wait, his place of burial isn't that straight forward either.  His remains were exhumed last year so that his family could do DNA testing to assure themselves it was really Garibaldi buried there.  (Does this strike anyone else as bizarre?  What if it's really him but they're not really descendants?)  So, he could be buried in Nice on Castle Hill, or put back to rest on Caprera.  He might be lost to posterity or stored under someone's house waiting for siblings to agree what to do with him.  Don't laugh, it happens.

Cap Ferrat

When I first arrived in Nice, Ben took me around to the critical spots:  where to take the trash, where to buy groceries, how to get to the nearest 'beach'. (Beaches in Nice are either cliffs or shingle. Well, they call it shingle, I call it lumpy rocks). He sprinkled his recommendations with terms like Antibes, Cap Ferrat, Monaco, all easy enough to visit if we wished.  

Somehow none of these appealed to me. I think of these places as inhabited by people with whom I only have genus and species in common and perhaps only just. I didn't think I'd enjoy walking around gawking at how rich people live - that said, Bill and I spent an entire day doing just that and I loved it...more later. I remember remarking to Ben one evening that I never saw the point of wanting something that was completely out of my reach; it's like volunteering to be unhappy.

Simon joined us from St Paul Trois Chateaux; actually he flew back from some business trip, grabbed the car and drove down to Nice. Simone flew in from Dusseldorf and Simon picked her up from the airport. We went out to dinner at Place Garabaldi that evening. I took photos of my duck on mashed potatoes, Bill's incredible steak (Simon's as well) and Simone's salmon, but it's all gratuitous and would only make me hungry again. There is another meal I definitely will show you, though...later.

Simone is training for some race or other - she runs marathons with her dad - and she likes to be 'active'. So, the next day she suggested a six mile walk around the Cap Ferrat. I figured I could manage six miles easily enough. She didn't mention it was all up and down, up and down, up and... I'm not sure I like Simone as much as I used to, but I guess I'll forgive her. We caught the 100 bus to Monaco, getting off at Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, walked around the Cape.

    

Looking at Bill's photos I realise that there were more fabulous houses in view than I remembered. I think I was watching my footing, or perhaps I wasn't that interested. Still, the scenery was nice. Everyone got a bit more tanned and I'm sure my hair got more blonde, so it wasn't all a waste of time. Don't I sound sour? I remember the day as hard work and I think I was a bit homesick by then. Or maybe I was just annoyed about being closer to 60 than 30.

I was smiling at the start...

More French trompe l'oeil (the ivy on the wall and window above).

Bill says he snapped this to get an idea of what the locals
looked like...I believe that, don't you?

Is this a car or a golf cart?  I really don't know.

At last we reached a place to stop, called the 'Passable Beach', a name that Bill loved. Some of us had ice cream and others had cold beer (followed by ice cream). We watched the clouds cross the sky and bring a short shower. I was so hot after that walk I stood out from under the umbrella hoping to be soaked, but there were all of maybe five raindrops. We were amazed at how the beach loungers were suddenly vacated. Within about 5 minutes the twenty or thirty sun-bathers packed their beach bags and left, the two staff guys stacked the loungers and that was that. We didn't have that swim we thought we might after all.

That wisteria around the windows?  It's painted on.

This large bronze Madonna and Child is at St Hospice
near a WWI military cemetery at St Jean Cap Ferrat

I wasn't kidding about the undulating course.

That 'storm' cleared the entire beach in no time.

After ice creams we walked a bit further east to Beaulieu-sur-Mer and got the bus back to the flat.