A Nice Surprise

When an explosion erupted in Garibaldi Square, Sam and I were caught off guard. We had been wondering through the streets, flicking through canvas oil paintings in search of an artistic perspective to complete our holiday painting collection.

Sam gripped my arm and pulled me into a backstreet, away from the open expanse of Square where a suspected bomb had just blown up. Our faces were framed with fear, and my mind raced with possible escape routes and instinctive survival practices.

I felt sick, very aware that Nice was likely a target of high risk and that even the many armed military officers couldn’t hold off a suicide bomber. Looking around us, however, the scene had not changed.

Nobody was running, screaming or panicking. The French locals hadn’t even batted an eyelid as they continued to sip on their morning coffee and bask in the glorious sunshine. Sam and I were huddled in a corner catching our breath and trying to think logically, yet the rest of the Square seemed completely unfazed by the explosion.

For anybody looking to visit Nice, let me explain.

We had been caught in the city’s midday tradition, which dated back to the Victorian era. You can be forgiven for assuming this tradition may have military origins. It does not represent attack, nor victory. Instead, the explosion reflects something far more surprising than that.

In 1861, a wealthy British gentleman, Sir Thomas Coventry-More, settled in Nice. He adored the Côte D’Azur; Sir Thomas and his wife were incredibly happy there. Whilst Sir Thomas would sit in his chateau on the hill and look out over the coast, his wife would spend most mornings strolling through the city where she preferred to intertwine with the locals and mirror the Southern French lifestyle.

After a while, Sir Thomas became irritated by her tardiness, for she was always late to return to the chateau and make his lunch. In an era of chauvinism, this behaviour was unacceptable. No women should disobey their husband, and Sir Thomas conducted a plan to remind his wife who was in charge.

Sir Thomas ran his plan by the Mayor. Every day, at exactly 12 noon, the Sir would let off a canon from his hilltop residence and let the echoing sound rumble through the streets of Nice. At this time, his wife would know that she was being summoned home to make the lunchtime sandwiches, and would scuttle out of the city and back up the hill to do so.

When Sir Thomas and his wife left Nice years later, the locals missed the daily detonation for the sound had become a tradition they were all much accustomed. They missed the canon so much that, on 19th November 1876, a law ‘lou canoun de Miejour’ was passed. This law made the tradition official, thereby keeping up the daily boom.

Nowadays, the noise does not erupt from a canon, but instead a gunpowder-style impact. The fireworks are set alight every day by Phillippe Arnello; who has been working the job for the last 25 years. The loyal pyrotechnic has only missed two days during the past two decades, both due to the notoriously bad Nice traffic!

Phillippe enjoys a joke too, and every year on April Fools Day, he sparks mild panic amongst the locals by setting the firework display off at the wrong time- Phillippe Arnello, the joker himself.

So, for all the Nice tourists among you, do not be alarmed. The daily explosion is normal. Mirror the locals and continue to devour your Croque Monsieur as if nothing has happened.