It's nice in Nice, as the song goes. MARTIN WADE takes a trip to find out if it's really as grand as you imagine.

BUILT as a nineteenth century playground for the rich, Nice still holds itself with a certain style.

The grand hotels and casinos that dot the Promenade des Anglais still welcome the indolent and wealthy, now as likely to be Russian nouveau-riche as the British - or rather English - for whom the stately prom was built and named.

Nice has retained this raffish gentility with the grand but slightly gaudy Hotel Negresco and the Casino Ruhl.

Abandoning our original idea of rollerblading along the prom, as many of the locals do, we hired bikes.

We first climbed the gentle hill towards the port, where we saw how the other half lived. When the rich come here to gamble, this is where they park their yachts.

The word barely does them justice - it's like calling Buckingham Palace a house. These were vast, gilded, ocean-going mini-liners yet they still nuzzled for space among the more workaday craft and the occasional battered fishing boat.

Crisply-uniformed crew scuttled about on deck, busily sprucing up railings and stowing expensive-looking stores below.

Having had our fill of boats of the rich and famous, we headed back towards Nice and the promenade and took in its 2km or so length at a suitably gentle pace.

A tour of this seafront boulevard is certainly the best way to get a taste of Nice. I was struck by the difference between the older and more youthful promenaders.

The more senior fitted the conventional idea of the chic madams et messieurs, dolled up in their finery with a miniature pooch in tow. The younger crowd tended to be jogging, rollerblading or strolling; all GAP clothes and healthy living.

We reached the end of the cycle lane and decided it was time for lunch and so retraced our steps along the front and inspected the menus of the many beach restaurants.

For some reason, I had a yearning for grilled sardines; must have been something to do with feeling virtuous after a morning's cycling. We settled on a restaurant roughly half-way along the prom, which while overpriced, showed that half of your bill was going on location.

And what a location, perched on the edge of Nice's (rather stony) beach with the azur Med in front.

Arrivals to Nice's seafront airport provided a lively lunchtime distraction.

Diners tucking into their seafood salad would suddenly look up as a howling Airbus announced its arrival.

It would then turn gracefully westwards, its undercarriage easing out. The roar would disappear and the plane would descend, leaving us to continue with our lunch and it to disgorge its passengers.

We wheeled back along the promenade to ascend the Chateau, atop the craggy headland overlooking the city.

The site of the original Greek settlement of Nice it is now home to a mausoleum and some unspectacular Greek and Roman remains. What made this place special was the view. The whole sweep of the city's station could be seen; nestling between vast granite mountains and the even vaster Mediterranean.

The old town, terracotta roofed and haphazard, nestled under the headland and contrasted with the expanse of the newer town; all sharp, Art Deco lines, domed casinos and boulevards.

With slightly wobbly legs, we returned to our bikes and later headed into the Vielle Ville or Old Town.

The narrow, cobbled streets attract a younger, student crowd, in search of cheap food, drink and pleasures. This gave the area a more natural feel, without the logoed parasols and maitre d's hovering beside chalkboard menus.

While seafood takes pride of place on Nice's menus, the Nicoise also have a passion for food of a more Italian stamp. Nice was once part of the Italian province of Piedmont and is often lovingly called La Bella Nissa in the local Italianate dialect. Crisp and thin pizzas scooped out of wood-fired ovens can be had across the city; from the humblest take-away to plush restaurants.

It might seem perverse then to forsake this culinary excellence and opt for an Afghani restaurant. We were intrigued. Our curiosity was rewarded by a delicately spiced aubergine and lentil stew followed by grilled lamb, pink on the inside, nicely charred out, and a fragrant pilaf.

This exotic meal was typical of Nice's cosmopolitan nature. Wandering off in search of a nightcap, we passed pizzerias, Tunisian kebab restaurants and chic French eateries, and strolled on Nice's finest feature, her promenade.

Built by the immigrants of the 19th century and now used by another generation of promenaders, it is a symbol of the city's quality. Inescapably French, yet with her face always looking out to sea.