Vieux Nice is where the city stops behaving and starts feeling like itself: narrow streets, yellow façades, green shutters, a palette that leans Italian. Nice belonged to the Kingdom of Sardinia before joining France in 1860, and it still shows. Around Place Rossetti, it turns properly local, flowers and market stalls taking over Cours Saleya. I've never once walked past Fenocchio without stopping, and I'll die on the hill that it's the best ice cream in Nice.

Vieux Nice is where the city stops behaving and starts feeling like itself: narrow streets, yellow façades, green shutters, a palette that leans Italian. Nice belonged to the Kingdom of Sardinia before joining France in 1860, and it still shows. Around Place Rossetti, it turns properly local, flowers and market stalls taking over Cours Saleya. I've never once walked past Fenocchio without stopping, and I'll die on the hill that it's the best ice cream in Nice.

Cours Saleya never does the same thing twice in a week. Flowers, seasonal produce and local delicacies fill it Tuesday to Sunday, Monday flips the whole square into an antiques market, and in summer it wakes back up after dark for an evening arts and crafts market. Once the stage for 19th-century Carnival floats and the centre of Niçois social life, it's kept that same pulse ever since: sunny, generous, local, and unmistakably Mediterranean.

Built in the late 18th century, Place Garibaldi is Nice's oldest major square, and it looks the part: ochre façades, long arcades, trompe-l'œil details painted on so convincingly it feels like a living stage. Giuseppe Garibaldi, the Italian general born here in 1807, watches over it all from the centre, a quiet nod to how Italian Nice still feels under the surface. My favourite detail is the small red and gold carousel, nostalgic and joyful in a square that could easily have settled for just being grand.

Built in the late 18th century, Place Garibaldi is Nice's oldest major square, and it looks the part: ochre façades, long arcades, trompe-l'œil details painted on so convincingly it feels like a living stage. Giuseppe Garibaldi, the Italian general born here in 1807, watches over it all from the centre, a quiet nod to how Italian Nice still feels under the surface. My favourite detail is the small red and gold carousel, nostalgic and joyful in a square that could easily have settled for just being grand.

Place Masséna is the square you'll cross a dozen times without meaning to, and it never quite looks the same twice. Red façades, arcades, a black-and-white chequerboard floor stitching together the Old Town, Avenue Jean Médecin, the Promenade du Paillon and the sea. Named after André Masséna, a Marshal of the Empire born in Nice, it's held that role as the city's meeting point since the 19th century. Apollo presides by day from the Fontaine du Soleil, and after dark, Jaume Plensa's seven glowing figures, one per continent, take the stage instead.

Parc de la Colline du Château feels spectacular and intimate all at once, tucked between Vieux Nice and Port Lympia. Views stretch over the Promenade, the Baie des Anges and the Old Town's ochre rooftops, reached by stairs or the elevator. Up top, it turns into something like a secret garden, trees, ruins, a waterfall. Sunset is when it earns its reputation, the Promenade going gold as the rooftops catch fire.

Parc de la Colline du Château feels spectacular and intimate all at once, tucked between Vieux Nice and Port Lympia. Views stretch over the Promenade, the Baie des Anges and the Old Town's ochre rooftops, reached by stairs or the elevator. Up top, it turns into something like a secret garden, trees, ruins, a waterfall. Sunset is when it earns its reputation, the Promenade going gold as the rooftops catch fire.

Port Lympia started as swampland the King of Sardinia decided to turn into a harbour, and 150 years and two basins later, this is the result. Unlike Marseille or Genoa, Nice never really bothered with maritime trade, so the port stayed devoted to pleasure boats instead, pointus and yachts sharing water like old neighbours. Ferries still leave daily for Corsica, the closest French port to the island. Café terraces line the quay for anyone happy to just watch it all happen.

The Promenade des Anglais is Nice at its most iconic: palm trees, blue chairs, seven kilometres of views over the Baie des Anges. It takes its name from the British winter visitors who funded the original coastal walkway back in the 19th century. Most people picture it first when they think of the Riviera. I picture my father pushing my stroller along it at 5 a.m. so my mother could sleep in, the sea still half-asleep beside us.

The Promenade des Anglais is Nice at its most iconic: palm trees, blue chairs, seven kilometres of views over the Baie des Anges. It takes its name from the British winter visitors who funded the original coastal walkway back in the 19th century. Most people picture it first when they think of the Riviera. I picture my father pushing my stroller along it at 5 a.m. so my mother could sleep in, the sea still half-asleep beside us.

Musée Masséna owes its existence to a decision made in the trenches: André Masséna, grandson of the Napoleonic marshal, was fighting at the front in 1917 with no heir and didn't want the villa's future left to chance, so he handed it straight to Nice. What visitors get today is a Belle Époque time capsule, gilded salons, Napoleonic memorabilia, a garden that's stayed free and open ever since, exactly as he asked. Skip the beach for an hour and step into the Riviera's golden age instead.

Musée Masséna owes its existence to a decision made in the trenches: André Masséna, grandson of the Napoleonic marshal, was fighting at the front in 1917 with no heir and didn't want the villa's future left to chance, so he handed it straight to Nice. What visitors get today is a Belle Époque time capsule, gilded salons, Napoleonic memorabilia, a garden that's stayed free and open ever since, exactly as he asked. Skip the beach for an hour and step into the Riviera's golden age instead.

Musée des Beaux-Arts looks like a sleepy Belle Époque villa, until you learn it survived an actual art heist: in 2007, armed robbers walked out with a Monet and a Sisley in broad daylight, both recovered in Marseille less than a year later. Built in 1878 for Ukrainian Princess Kotchoubey before the city bought it in 1925, the museum now holds everything from old masters to Jules Chéret's Belle Époque posters. Quieter than the Matisse or Masséna crowds, with just enough drama in its own past to earn the visit.

Nice's most unexpected landmark also happens to be mine: the Russian Orthodox Cathedral Saint-Nicolas, whose colourful domes were the view from my childhood bedroom window. It exists because Tsarevich Nicholas Alexandrovich died on this exact spot in 1865, a small chapel eventually growing into the cathedral finished in 1912. Neo-Russian domes and an interior dripping in gold, it looks almost like a mirage under the Mediterranean

Nice's most unexpected landmark also happens to be mine: the Russian Orthodox Cathedral Saint-Nicolas, whose colourful domes were the view from my childhood bedroom window. It exists because Tsarevich Nicholas Alexandrovich died on this exact spot in 1865, a small chapel eventually growing into the cathedral finished in 1912. Neo-Russian domes and an interior dripping in gold, it looks almost like a mirage under the Mediterranean

Arènes de Cimiez has seen gladiators, chariot races, and, more recently, Miles Davis: this 2nd-century Roman amphitheatre hosted the Nice Jazz Festival from 1974 to 2011, ancient stones doubling as front-row seats for names like Dizzy Gillespie. Right next door, the Musée Matisse settles into the Villa des Arènes, tracing the painter's work from his early years to the cut-outs, fitting since Matisse himself is buried just up the hill. Olive trees, Roman ruins and a lifetime of Matisse, all sharing the same patch of hillside.