The dirty south


But like…not at all. So Yael, Sammy and I took a nice looong train to Cannes for the weekend, rented an awesome apartment and lounged around town in hope of doing something about the Casper skin tone I’m rocking. The apartment was great, nice and cozy.


The first day we went to the beach and laid on the sand because the beach chairs were the same price as a fancy dinner and…. After being smothered in sand, we went for some dinner and met some rather interesting humans.
Next day- took the train to Nice. Kinda snuck on. The weather was shitty but we had the best lunch of all so we didn’t complain about a gray and cloudy sky.


The sporadic rain was annoying but we found shelter in h&m and decided that investing in an umbrella=our appetizer, so we got soaked instead.

La Favola was bustling with locals and tourists. We waited about 20 minutes and than… Ordered a pizza with egg, artichoke, mushroom and tomato to start. The egg killed it–insanity. I got a grilled sole because I mooch off everyone else’s pastas.


Sammy had the lasagna; enough to feed a family of 4 (sometimes this country appropriately whips out American portions, no complaints) and Yael had a gnocchi, which was also amazing. I don’t know how to put the chocolate mousse into words. Think of a huge salad bowl…layered with 3 types of perfect chocolate mousse. Enough to feed a dinner party, or 3 fatass Americans.


Food coma to the max. Until…Yael thought churros were acceptable. With a side of Nutella.


We demolished it. Best churros the world has seen. We promised each other we would have a piece of fruit for dinner since we ate like beasts, we bought fruit, ate it. And then…we may or may not have ordered from a place called Mister Pizza? Forgive me for I have sinned.
The next day, beach day in Cannes. We decided to splurge on a fancy beach chair (thus skipped breakfast) and than treated ourselves to a nice bottle of Chardonnay because…who knows when we’ll be back? Then, party over. 5 hour train back.


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