Villefranche-sur-Mer: Gateway to the French Riviera

The first thing I noticed when our tender rounded the breakwater into Villefranche-sur-Mer was the color of the water — a shade of turquoise I'd only seen in tropical postcards, here cradled between steep hillsides dotted with terracotta roofs and umbrella pines. The old town's pastel facades tumbled down to the harbor like a painter's imagination, and I understood immediately why this little bay has been captivating visitors since the Greeks founded it over two thousand years ago.

Villefranche isn't Monaco's glitz or Nice's urban bustle — it's something gentler. The tender deposits you at the end of a small pier, and within steps you're wandering through the Rue Obscure, a covered medieval street that feels like a secret passage through time. Dim and cool even on the hottest days, it was built in the 13th century to protect residents from Saracen attacks. Now it just protects you from the Mediterranean sun as you make your way to the Citadelle or the waterfront cafés.

I've been fortunate to visit Villefranche on three different Mediterranean itineraries, and each time I've made different choices. My first visit, I jumped on a ship excursion to Monaco and Monte Carlo, needing to see the Casino Square, the Prince's Palace, and the famous hairpin turns where Formula 1 cars race through city streets. Standing at the same railing where Grace Kelly once stood, looking down over the harbor filled with yachts worth more than I'd earn in multiple lifetimes — it was surreal. We stopped at the Exotic Garden for its cacti and cave, then descended to the old town for a quick walk before the drive back. It was lovely, but rushed.

My second visit, I took the local bus to Nice — a €1.50 revelation. The Promenade des Anglais stretched before me, that famous walkway along the sea where Victorian aristocrats once promenaded and where today joggers, cyclists, and strollers share the space. I wandered through the Old Town (Vieux Nice), lost myself in the Cours Saleya flower market bursting with sunflowers and lavender, and climbed Castle Hill for panoramic views over the Baie des Anges. I ate socca — that chickpea crêpe that's Nice's signature street food — standing at a counter because that's how the locals do it. It was hot, crispy, and perfect with a squeeze of lemon.

The third time, I stayed in Villefranche itself, and I think that was the wisest choice. I swam off the tiny beach, the water so clear I could count pebbles ten feet down. I ate lunch at a waterfront restaurant where the bouillabaisse came in a copper pot and the waiter explained each fish with Provençal pride. I explored the Chapelle Saint-Pierre, decorated entirely by Jean Cocteau in 1957 with scenes from St. Peter's life and local fishermen — a small jewel that most people miss in their rush to Monaco. I wandered without agenda, which is exactly what the Côte d'Azur rewards.

Monaco deserves a full day if you can get it, and Nice deserves at least half of one. But Villefranche deserves your attention too. Don't just pass through on your way somewhere else. The small Citadelle houses museums (free entry) including works by Picasso and Miró. The church of Saint-Michel contains genuine Baroque treasures. The beach may be rocky, but the water is divine. And the pace is something the rest of the Riviera has largely forgotten.

If you do venture out, consider Eze — a medieval village perched like an eagle's nest 1,400 feet above the sea. The Jardin Exotique there offers cactus gardens with vertiginous views, and the narrow streets lead to artisan shops that are actually worth browsing. You can take a bus up and hike down the Nietzsche Path (the philosopher composed parts of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" while walking it), though be warned — it's steep and rough on the knees.

The French Riviera invented modern tourism. British aristocrats, Russian royalty, and American writers — from the Fitzgeralds to Hemingway — made this coast famous. Some of that glamour remains, but so does something older and simpler. In Villefranche, you can still feel it: the fishing village that existed long before the yachts arrived, the light that drew painters, the warmth of a place that understands pleasure is best taken slowly.