France

Provence, the Luberon Valley

My first visit to France, invited by Australian friends Joy and Stephen (who live in Bali)...

From our $400/week apartment overlooking Gordes and the valley

Dining with a view on our terrace - Salad Nicoise and Rose were our staples

Watching French film Jean de Floret set in Provence

Gordes

We spent a day in the Sault Valley, walking the country roads, picnicking, meditating and napping among the lavender fields that hummed with bees and butterflies.

Tapenades, ratatouille, tzaziki, herbed goat cheese, quail eggs and a variety of other delights at a lunch out

Ice cream at Bonnieux

Nice

Our street, off of Rosetti Square

Our drive from the Luberon Valley took us through the rocky dramatic Gorges du Verdon to Nice on the French Riviera.  

Each day, we took a bus to the beach to swim in the crystal clear Mediterranean, warm and very salty.

From a series based upon Nice

One afternoon in Nice,I took the bus to the Musee Marc Chagall. When I saw the his work, I was mesmerized. Since the museum was not crowded, I could sit back away from the art and gaze for as long as I liked, and I could get up and go very close and see the brush strokes,texture, and layers and complexity of the colors.  The work was more vivid and powerful than I could have imagined.

Happy Bastille Day, France!  Fireworks over the sea in Nice.

Paris

When I first caught sight of the Eiffel Tower from the plane arriving from Nice,I felt a wave of emotion. Paris. Finally.


On Saturday morning I got up early and took the metro to Monmarte, my grandfather's neighborhood.  I got off at Rue Marcadet and walked, thinking about how these streets looked 100 years ago when he was a little boy having been born and growing up here. I first arrived at the park where I knew he had played, and next to it was the old stone building where he had lived.  227 Rue Marcadet.  I touched the door and shed a few tears.


When I left Rue Marcadet, I walked up the hill to the famous Sacre Couer. I entered the doorway on the side and wound up the stone stairs, hearing the labored breath of others making the climb with me.  The top yielded a stunning view of all of Paris.  

I thought of my grandfather's feet touching these same steps when he was a boy. I found myself wishing that I had come to Paris while my grandfather was still alive so that I could learn more about it and marvel with him about the country he left behind.  

I found myself missing him, and maybe understanding him (and us) more,  I could see why we had caviar and champagne on holidays, and how we came to love the arts and carry a bit of artistic ability, and smiled to think that we all have strong opinions (and strength, in general).  I wished I had taken the opportunity to learn his beautiful language.  I liked that I "passed" for French.  I missed him. 

Notre Dame

The most delicious thing I have ever tasted.

.

And a word about the French.  In my 12 days in France, I found them to be sweet and helpful.  100%.  






Bon nuit.  Au revoir.