The apartment manager, a chatty Australian called Mike, was waiting for us. We entered the large, old green double doors into the stairwell which was tiled and had grand marble stairs, very French. Unfortunately we were at the top of the 65 stairs, but we somehow managed to haul our cases up.
We walked out of Vieux Nice and onto the seafront beside Castel Hill. We stopped for a rest at the beautiful war memorial that was built into the rock of the hill as our arms were aching, we were weary and very hungry. By now it was dark, but we could see the Port now and knew our ordeal was nearly over. Soon we were plodding up the marble steps to the apartment.