Imperial College Lawn Tennis Club heads to Nice for summer tour!

This summer we set out to Nice, France, for our summer tour. Aiming to experience clay-court tennis (a surface we never get to play on in London) we took this opportunity to spend some time together after a successful season.

The excitement to play on the top-quality clay courts in Nice was clear as soon as squad assembled at around 9am at Liverpool Street station. But that had to wait, the first stop was the Spoons at Stansted Airport for a pre-flight breakfast. Shout-out to the beloved President for being late, thankfully we didn’t miss our flight! Advice to anyone heading to Nice, don’t sleep on the plane unlike most of us - the landing is spectacular.

With the French sun showing its might instantly, the team took a bus to the city centre and walked down to the hostel. After some time to relax, Nice was all up for exploring but it wasn’t long before a hungry bunch of tennis players wanted to devour some traditional French food. The night carried far after dinner - and what better way to end it than a dip in the Mediterranean in the early hours of the morning.

On Saturday, southern French sunshine filled the hostel, and we rose up and headed to breakfast. This was followed by a trip to Nice’s beautiful castle. The team were doubtful it would be worth the steep climb to top of the hill, but the views proved them wrong. What followed was a little promenade around the gardens, waterfalls and gorgeous views of the Mediterranean. On the way back to the hostel, everyone was delighted to try Socca, a type of crepe made from chickpea flour native to Nice.

As soon as the team made it to the hostel it was time to bash some tennis balls. Flip-flops were switched for tennis shoes, rackets were gathered and heads turned west towards the Nice Lawn Tennis Club. The scorching sunshine did not stop the fierce tennis lovers from enjoying two full hours of clay-court tennis as everyone got to hit with each other. Shout out to James for serving into Bartu’s head during doubles. As the whole squad was on the verge of a heat stroke by the time tennis was finished, it was time to hit the beach once again.

As the sun set over the French Riviera, the clay covered shoes were dusted off and shirts were worn. The night continued as the crew embarked on a bar crawl around Nice; the details of which won’t be discussed to preserve the dignity of certain (all?) members.

As we began the final morning, the sun forced its rays through the shuttered windows of the hostel dorms. No one stirred: they slumbered on through the first hours of the day. As a few of the chaps started to slowly wake up, heavy-lidded eyes were slowly prised open, and hands gently rubbed throbbing heads and roiling stomachs. Others lay completely still, heads heavily slumped against the sides of bins, unwilling to move lest the world start spinning anew. A soft stutter escaped from the lips of one slumping form: “Totally worth it”.

The group eventually moved - the tennis courts were booked for 2pm after all! On court, movements started sluggish, weak, pitiful. But, as the team recovered, the hits gained in strength and vigour (if not precision) and balls went zooming through the air in yellow streaks, filling the air with the comforting sounds of rhythmic tennis rallying. Soon, however, the squad found themselves tiring: legs were slogging, shoulders were slumping, feet were dragging on the rich red clay of the French tennis courts. Needless to say, the French were thoroughly impressed by our grand display!

Following training, the group went for a last quick swim in the sea and sunbathed, clearly uncomfortable on the pebble beach but too lazy to move. The evening slowly reared its head and the team finally decided to wander the city for a well-deserved last meal in France. And what better to enjoy in this country of exquisite local cuisine than a pineapple pizza fresh from the oven (the man was looked down upon and sentenced to an evening of judgmental looks).

And thus our trip ended here: the team dashing through town to grab their taxis, leaving for the airport, and bellies wobbling with their last meal. They accomplished their mission and brought to Nice the best of Imperial culture: a swirl of high-performance tennis, a whole lot of “oui-ouis” and “Ouhlalaaas”, plenty of growling stomachs and parched throats and, most importantly, a belched rendition of Country Roads that undoubtedly still reverberates throughout the whole town.

If you enjoy playing tennis or want to learn how to play, get in touch with us through social media and we’ll be more than happy to get you involved in the club - and see you with us next year for our upcoming tour!