Alex Ingram '10 - My first week has been absolutely amazing in the Cote d'Azur. I don't know where to begin, so I'll just dive in I guess. My French class is intensive and difficult, but extremely helpful. Each day, all of the four hours are spent conversing in French and French only, which has been most helpful in forcing me think in the language, and memorize quite a bit as well. I have only been studying French for this past week, but I already feel more than capable of making my away around and keeping small conversations.

Most of my outside practice comes at the Nice Gold's Gym. The price tag was quite expensive, 105 € for the month, but it helps keep me in a bit of a routine. The owner and his wife are multi-lingual (to date I don't know exactly how many languages they speak, but it is quite a few), and are very helpful. What humors me though, is how much less an emphasis the French place on exericise in a gym setting, which of course explains the high fees to join a gym. When I ask my teachers and neighbors, they say the same thing: the French walk, and never run. Apparently they don't go to the gym either. Weighing in at a light 185 pounds, I'm the largest person in the gym, sans one man who is undoubtedly on steroids. Today, I actually broke an Olmpyic bar doing hang cleans, which has never happened to me or anyone I know before, and made me quite the popular person in the gym as you could imagine.

Moving along though, I've met an eclectic group of foreigners in my studies and travels so far. My closest friend here is in the private security sector, similar to companies such as Blackwater, but he works out of England. He is learning French to allow him access to French speaking African nations in his work. He has worked extensively in both Iraq and Afghanistan, and the insight into the private workings, as well as the American forces jobs, has been eye opening to say the least. Certainly a different perspective than I've heard yet, and much more informed than any Tom, Dick, or Harry on the American television.

We've traveled around quite a bit together in our first week, via his car. So far, we've been to Antibes, Cannes, Monte Carlo (Monaco), and quite a few more small towns on the French Riviera. The coastline here is beautiful, and can't be done justice in pictures, much less my poor point-and-shoot pictures. The local food also continues to grown on me. Nicoise specialties, such as the Nicoise salad, Moules, and the local gnocchi are all amazing.

Friday was certainly something I'd chalk up to the life experience category: my English friend and I cleaned up and drove his restored Lotus FX to the Casino at Monte Carlo. The town itself is amazing, as is the rest of Monaco, which is its own principality within the French Riviera. When we arrived, we drove through the city on the Formula 1 course, and eventually pulled up to the circle infront of the casino and were valeted into the parking spaces infront of the casino, along with vintage Rolls Royce's and a Mercialago. I've never felt more alien in my life, although it was certainly welcomed. The casino is amazing, and so was the 6€ Perrier I was drinking. All in all, the evening certainly hurt my wallet, but was well worth it. Thankfully, I lost much more money to my drink bill than to the casino itself.

The highlight of the week, however, was standing on the curb, no fence, no barrier, as the tour de Lance (or France, if you wish) came through Nice. I went out three hours early, and to my suprise, was the only one on the curb on the chateau point, probably the most beautiful view of the city, the coastline, and the mediterranean. While waiting the three hours or so, hundreds of sponsored cars came through the course throwing out all kinds of free goodies, which made the whole day quite an event for me. Then finally, the riders came through, and I was literally arms length from Lance Armstrong and the rest of the riders as they cornered the curb I was standing on. I could've fallen of the curb and literally wrecked half of the riders. It was simply unbelievable, an experience I'll never forget.