Old Nice is the ideal place to just walk and look around. It is a labyrinth of winding alleys and incredibly small streets with the sides of the buildings covered by hanging laundry.
You just have to look skywards and you’ll find there’s a whole different world to be discovered; the world of French laundry. As you turn in circles, look up and happiness will fall on you out of the sky.
“How did we end up here?” is a question you often ask yourself but don’t worry if you get lost, you’ll soon get found again, that’s if you want to.
Filled with holiday happiness, the girls decide to embrace the French custom and hang our wet laundry out on the balcony of our hotel room.
As you can see there was plenty of it and it ranged from socks, to t-shirts, to knickers, to bras, to jeans. Well what they didn’t know, was that this quaint French laundry hanging custom is reserved for French people and tourists in hotel rooms have no business trying to be that French.
Before you know it, the police are involved and a phone call from the front desk tells the laundry lasses to bring in their washing. And, as so fittingly put by the Dead Milkmen, in the lyrics of their song “Laundromat Song”
There’s a girl washing her clothes
I’m in love but nobody knows
She looks sixteen or seventeen
My mind grows dirty when my clothes get clean
Oops better stick to the script.
“Did you see the size of those underpants, maybe Bridget Jones is staying there”
“Yeah, well it’s our duty to protect the French people from that.”