Menton is my first stop in France. It sits just beyond the Italian border and—almost as if to spite me—makes no effort whatsoever to feel particularly French.

Pastel-colored facades glow in the sunlight, the old town nestles against the Mediterranean, and even the sky still looks unmistakably Italian. Houses in soft shades of yellow, orange, and pink stack up the hillside as if competing for the best view of the sea.

I walk up to the Basilica of St. Michael the Archangel, its bell tower rising high above the rooftops. From here, the view stretches over the sea and the town, but the most breathtaking panorama waits a little farther up—at the old cemetery overlooking Menton. No offense to the basilica, but the dead definitely got the best seats in town. Between ancient tombs, weathered gravestones, and towering cypress trees, the city unfolds beneath me like a postcard, framed by the coastline on one side and the mountains on the other.

I take in the view one last time before making my way back down—back to France.