Au Revoir, France - Part 1

Avignon through the windows of Palais du Papes

"The sweetness and generosity and politeness

and gentleness and humanity of the French

had shown me how lovely life can be if only

one takes the time to be friendly."

~ Julia Child

Today was our last full day in France. It makes me sad to think that this part of the journey is over even though I'm thrilled to know that tomorrow at this time, we'll be in Italy.

I'm so glad we've had this time, however short, in France. It's gone a long way in changing my mind about the country. We've met a few curmudgeons, but curmudgeons live everywhere (and believe me, I know a LOT of them in the States....). I think trying to say a few words in French goes a long way with people, just as trying to speak English in America would. Agree?

Anyway, it was chilly and cloudy again today, and we had a few instances of rain. While we were having coffee this morning, I kept looking at the old, old buildings around the plaza where we were.

"I can't imagine living in a place this old," I said.

"What do you mean by that?" Mike asked me.

"It means I can't imagine living in a place this old. What else would it mean?" I snipped back.

"Then you couldn't live anywhere in Europe," he replied.

"That's not what I meant. I could live here. I just can't imagine living in a building that is hundreds of years old." I couldn't figure out why he would think I said I couldn't live here. "We don't have the same type of building in the States. We've talked about that for two weeks."  I mean, come on.  I was clear with what I meant.  (Of course, let me add here that Riley would have to be part of the package. ;-) )

"That's not how I took it," he said.

Stone street in Avignon

It makes perfect sense to me. I look at the old buildings, the narrow streets and alleys, the roads paved with smooth rock and cobblestones and think how different it is from the life most of us know. I wonder how the people survived life in the circumstances they faced in these towns hundreds of years ago. The history is overwhelming, and what we don't know is so amazing and exciting.

Tonight Mike and I had champagne with Amaury and Giles, the owners of our flat in Avignon. Their apartment is above the studio where we're staying, and they showed us around it and around the new property that they're renovating at the end of our street. (When I say end of the street, think small.  Fifty steps to the right will put you on the main drag, and twenty to the left put you at the gate shown below.)

The house they bought was, most recently, a school where they taught French to foreigners and English to the French.  However, in its first life, it belonged to the Catholic Church, and part of it was the residence of a cardinal, and the other part was a nun's convent.

"Le révolution put end to that," Amaury told us.  "They chase off the sisters an' make them run away."

"They kill them," Giles added while drawing his finger across his neck.

"They killed nuns?"  This information shocked me.

"Oui. Le révolution, she was not good for them."  Yikes.

The gate to Amaury & Gilles's new property

Without going into a lot of detail, let me just say that Amaury and Giles are renovating the 16th century property now, and while they aren't going to make it religious in any way, they hope to renew the feeling of peace and friendship, spirituality, and good that once existed there.

"We love meeting people" Amaury said, "and we want a place for all kinds of artists to come.  How you say it?"

"Like a retreat?"

"Oui.  Retreat."

Amaury, Moi & Giles

If you've read this blog since its inception, you may remember that I mentioned Amaury and Gilles a few months ago.  I said that Amaury sent a quick and friendly reply to my inquiry about renting the flat and that I felt like I already knew him after several emails between us.  I really do feel that way with both of them. They are sweet, generous, polite, gentle, and kind.  We're better for having met them.

By the way, the flat in which we're staying and the apartment where Amaury and Giles live was once home to Jean-Pierre Gras (1879-1964), a sculptor, painter and ceramist from Avignon.  The studio in the front of their apartment is a two-story, glassed-in room that has absolutely beautiful light. I can imagine painting or writing or sculpting in that space.

And, yes, I could live here.... at least for a little while.

Side note:  We'll be leaving Avignon tomorrow before many of you say Au revoir to today.  Have a great rest of your Saturday!

Food Obsession

       Lunchtime crowd for take-away baguettes

"In France, cooking is a serious

art form and a national sport."

~ Julia Child

The French are obsessed with food. At least I think they are. Go by any cafe at any time on any day, and you'll see people eating. It pretty much amazes me because I wonder when they work I went over the cafe-thing while we were in Paris, so I won't repeat it.

Let me add, though, that i've also never seen so many people walking around eating. Baguettes are the big choice, but I've also seen chocolate croissants, almond thingies, gelato, fruit, and bread. Know that cliched picture of French walking around with baguettes in their hand? It's true, and often they are taking a bite out of it while they walk.

Unfortunately, I've become obsessed with food since we arrived her. I can sort of do without some of the food-food, but the boulangeries and patisseries are danger, danger, danger. Thankfully, we walk a lot.

As I mentioned earlier, Avignon was chilly and cloudy today, and we spent most of the day inside since I'm still fighting this crap. We did go out for hot chocolate today (Photo below), and we hit the market for something to cook for dinner, but that was about it.

So, pleases forgive me for not writing too much today (No big cheers, please) and allow me to share more photos... this time of food.

(Side note:  Let me point out that I never post my best photos online.)

The French love cheese.  There are shops dedicated to cheese on every block, and every market has a couple of cheese vendors.  The interesting thing is that they will let you taste before you buy, and they will sell as little or as much as you want.  I did try one cheese that I now know was "stinky" cheese.  Ugh.  The rest has been great.

The bakers who set up at the markets will sell bread by weight, so instead of an entire loaf, you can buy 1/4 loaf or 1/2 loaf.

The best-looking strawberries we've ever seen are at almost every market in France.  They've been three-inches long.

Mike had this crab cake one night, and to make it interesting, the chef formed a little crab.  Presentation is almost everything.

Mike loves salmon, and he says that some of the best-looking salmon he's ever seen has been at the fresh fish markets.

Like cupcakes in the US, macrons are the rage in France.  I did a post about them a few weeks ago.

Snails.  Ugh.  But, people love them.  They're also all over the fish markets.

French hot chocolate is great. What else can I tell you?  As I mentioned, we did little today, but we did manage to go out and get a hot chocolate for lunch.  That was it.... just the hot chocolates.

The pastries look amazing, and sometimes they are.  At other times, they're not that great, and I wonder how long some of the stuff has been in the case.  With all of the patisseries in these towns, I'm sure they don't sell everything every day.

Regardless, they look great.  :-)

Spices and salts are big in Provence, and the market in Avignon has a great little spice shop.  Have you ever heard of lavender salt?  Rose salt?  Herbs de Provence?  I'll be buying some.

Tomorrow is our last day in Avignon . . . and France.

A Couple of Photos

It's chilly and cloudy in Avignon today, so I thought I would send out an extra post with a number of photos before I do the blog tonight. It's a little complicated to do the blog on the iPad as the app isn't all that great, so we'll hope it goes okay.

Pastries from a patisserie in Vernon. The shine you see is a glaze, not plastic wrap.

Giverny.... Monet's garden in early spring

Mike in Giverny... What do you mean it's cold?.

The French are obsessed with bread (for good reason). I took this at the Rouen Sunday Market on Easter.

Cassoulet for sale at the Rouen Market on Eater

One of the Normandy Beaches at low tide

Penguins enjoying a cappuccino in Honfleur

The American Cemetery in Normandy. Did you know that the American government actually owns the land?

Half-timber houses are popular in Normandy. This one was in Honfleur.

Les Andelys and the Seine River from Chateau Gaillard

Marseille in a Day

                          Marseille-St. Charles Train Station

Ye sons of France awake to glory,

Hark! Hark! What myriads bid you rise!

Your children, wives and white-haired grandsires

Behold their tears and hear their cries!

~ The Marseillaise, French National Anthem (trad)*

We made it to Marseille today. (See what happens when I don't say we're going somewhere?  We actually make it.)

Truth be told, we didn't plan on going there at all. I got up late, and we decided that we'd have breakfast (at 11 am, mind you) and head to Arles for a few hours since it is relatively close.  We had just missed a train to Arles when we arrived at the station, and the next one wasn't for another hour or so.

"I don't want to wait that long," I said.

"We can go somewhere else and come back in a bit," Mike replied.  I think he really wanted to get out of Avignon.  "Or, we can go somewhere else.  Where do you want to go?" 

The train for Marseille was leaving in 15 minutes, so I picked it.  Five minutes and 15 euro each later, we were on our way with a handful of other people on a pretty long train.  The ride went relatively smoothly, and 80 minutes later, we were standing at the top of the steps leading from (or to, depending on which way you're going) the Marseille-St. Charles station.

(As a side note, I bet you pronounced that Saint Charles as we would in the States, didn't you?  HA! You have to slur it.... san schjarl.... and barely say that "L."   I digress....)

                     Marseille from Notre Dame du Gard

"What should we do now?" Mike asked me.  Heck if I knew. I hadn't planned on traveling to Marseille, so I had no idea of where we were much less how to get anywhere else.

"I don't know.  Let's walk and find a map."  Yes. Yes.  I suggested walking.  I'm still sick, don't forget. I think the cold has gotten to my brain.

So we walked..... and walked......and walked......

"This isn't quite what I expected," I said at some point.

"What did you expect?" Mike asked me.

"I don't know, but it wasn't this."  Actually, I think I do know what I was expecting.  I think I was expecting to walk out of the train station right onto a sandy beach.  We were in the middle of a bustling city.... a HUGE bustling city, and I saw neither sand nor sea from where we were standing. "This reminds me of Paris," I continued.

"With better weather," Mike added.

                        The old port area in Marseille

Eventually we found a map and walked to the old port area where the open-top tour buses run. I won't bore you with specifics, but if you know anything about those open-top buses, you know that they run continuously so you can hop-on and hop-off at will.  Not in Marseille.  They have two companies that run those tours, and they are very limiting.  One runs only twice a day, and the other does four rounds.  Lucky for us, we made it for the last round (no hop-on or -off on this one) and got to see a bit of the city.

We got off of the bus a stop early so we could walk....and walk.... and walk back to the train station for our 6:50 train back to Avignon.  Luckily, we climbed all those steps (127 of them), arrived on the platform at 6:05, and saw that there was a train leaving at 6:10.  Even luckier, our ticket allowed us to take any train back to Avignon, so we crowded on with a bunch of others and headed north.

"I didn't see anything of any town that excited me when we went by," Mike said as we walked back to the flat tonight.

"Yep," I agreed.  "Arles is off my radar for now."

"Is there any other place you want to see before we leave Avignon?"

I'll have to get back to him on that.

** Did you know/remember that the Beatles used the music from The Marseillaise at the beginning of All You Need is Love?

Parking Wars — Avignon

             An alley In Avignon

"You know what's the worst?

Being sick in the summertime."

~ Unknown

For the most part, today was a crappy day.

Please excuse my being blunt, but let's call a bad day a bad day. The rain, cold and damp (and Mike's cold) finally caught up with me and hit me with a vengeance during the night. I spent so much of the evening coughing and sniffling that we gave up on going to St-Remy-de-Provence today. :-(

It was bound to happen. I catch everything at the drop of a hat, unfortunately, and the weather just added to it. (Hence the reason why I hate cold so much.) At least I came prepared with antibiotics, so hopefully I'll be okay within a day or so.

The day was not, however, wasted. We continued our walks around the historic area of Avignon and found some charming little alleys and arches we hadn't seen before. We also had some dinnertime entertainment.

"I'm constantly amazed," I said as we sat on the steps in front of the Palais du Papes, "at the age and condition of these buildings."

                             View from where we ate dinner

"Do you think the popes would have ever imagined that people would be eating gelato on the steps of their palace 700 years later?" Mike asked. "Or skateboarding or having a cappuccino?"

Since the temperatures were in the 80s again today, we decided to eat at an outdoor cafe tonight. About a block from the palace is a huge square lined with the city hall, government buildings, a bank, and more than a dozen little cafes. We chose one, ordered, people watched and, when I could, took photos of the people.

"You need to make up captions," Mike said after I had taken a few photos. We threw a few out, but unless you were there, you wouldn't get them, so I'll just say we were laughing over our salad when two couples walked by us. The girls were wearing stilettos (Can someone please tell me how anyone can walk on those things on flat pavement let along on cobblestones???), short dresses and expensive jewelry, and the men looked like they had just stepped out of an ad for rap singers. One guy had his hat on sideways to the back.... I'm sure you know what I mean. All four were smoking those skinny French cigarettes that make me gag when I'm feeling okay and even worse when I'm not feeling well.

"That guy looks like an idiot," I said of the one with the stupid hat.

"He never did anything to you," Mike replied.

"He walked by me smoking a cigarette and looking like a fool." I can get nasty when I'm sick. "If you ever wore a hat like that, I'd pull it down over your ears and throw you out the door."

"I don't think that's the right look for a 60-year old man," Mike said.

"I don't think that's the right look for any man. He looks like a hoodlum." I was pretty agitated, can you tell?

We dropped it and went on to other things over dinner, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two police officers standing near two cars that were parked near the edge of the square. (If you look at the photo of the Mistrau cafe above, you can see one of the dark cars on the right side of the photo.) Suddenly, a tow truck backed up and yanked one of the cars up on the truck bed and quickly took off. The whole incident took less than two minutes, and had I not been enjoying dinner, I might have thought to take a photo.

"Someone is going to get a surprise," I quipped.

"It looks like the cops are waiting for the truck to come back and get the second car," Mike noted.

"I hope we're here when the owner comes out and sees his car gone," I said. "That should be a shock."

"It's Parking Wars — Avignon," Mike said.  "Where's the camera? Vair eez my cahr? Vhat happained veet my cahr?"

We were finishing dessert (I think mine was low-cal.) when I looked up and saw the owner of the now-gone car standing there looking for his car. Stupid hat man. (There is a God,)

He stomped his feet and threw something into the second car before pulling his cell phone out and calling someone. We figure he was calling the police to see where they took his car.  His three friends piled into the other car and sat there for a bit while he huffed on the phone for three or four minutes.  The two cops who had been there when they towed the car walked up, and the guy tried to talk to them.

At this point, the driver of the second car backed into the street, blocking it.  He put down the convertible top, and he and the two girls just sat in the middle of the street watching their friend talk to the cops and make more phone calls.  Suddenly, the tow truck started to back down the street again,   The hat guy threw his arms up in the air, yanked the door open, and slammed his body into the passenger seat as the driver took off.

                      The two cops leave the scene

"He'll go to get his car out of impound, and they'll tell him they close at 6," Mike joked.

"Ve air sew-ree, meez-tair, boot if shjou deedn't way=air sooch a stoo-peed hat, ve cood get shjour cahr." I was enjoying this way too much.

The excitement over, the tow truck left the scene, the two cops walked away, and we paid for dinner and strolled home.

I'm loathe to say that we're planning to go anywhere tomorrow since I seem to jinx our plans each time I do that, but we'll see how we're doing in the morning and decide from there.  Keep your fingers crossed (and cars legally parked).

A Random Bit of Kindness

                                                             Raia

"How do you defeat terrorism?

Don't let fear rule your life.

Even if you're scared."

~ Salman Rushdie

Have you heard about Boston? Someone bombed the marathon. 2 dead. 75 injured.

I received the email from our son just as we were going to bed last night. His words put that thought out of our minds immediately, and we both tried to find out as much information as possible via the internet.  We both woke up around 2 am and, again, tried to find out what we could on the internet.  It wasn't much, unfortunately.

"It's times like these that having BBC, CNN and Al Jazeera English would come in handy," I said to Mike. The only English-language television stations we had last week were those three. We shouldn't have complained because we have only French stations this week.

It was a bit surreal walking around Avignon today knowing that something horrible had happened at home but really getting little information about it here. No matter where we were, the people of Boston weren't far from my mind, yet I felt so isolated.


We were out for a walk before dinner tonight, and a man and his dog turned a corner and ambled toward us.

"That's a cute dog," my husband said of the Yellow-Lab looking dog. I agreed, although I have to admit there are very few dogs that I don\t think are cute. I bent down as she came toward me.

"Bonjour, Pooky!" Her butt swished, her tail waggled, and her whole body squirmed with what I think was delight.

"Good boy!" Mike said.

"She eez a goo-rule," her owner said.

"Excuse me?" Mike has a problem understanding French-lish.

                        Le Pont du Avignon built 1177-1185

"Girl. It's a girl," I explained as the owner repeated what he'd said. "Tre bien, Pooky."

"Shjou air Een-glesh?" the young man asked us.

"American," Mike replied.

"Shjou hee-air aboot Boast-oon?" he asked. We nodded as he continued. "I joost hee-air eet en da rah-dee-oh. Eet eez say-ad."

"Very sad, indeed." Mike and he talked about who was responsible. I heard him mention something about extremists and domestic terrorists, and I mostly listened as I petted Raia and she kissed me on both cheeks (So French!)

"I loof Amair-ee-ca," the man said. "I half noot bean, boot I veal go."

"You should come," Mike invited him. "It is a nice place."

"Here hee-ztory eez zo zmall," he continued and held his hands about a foot apart. "Zee French hee-ztory eez vair-ee beeg."

                       The Palais du Papes built 14th Century

"Yes," Mike answered, "there are buildings here a lot older than our country. We talk about that every day."

They talked a little longer, and the Frenchman ended with, "I aim zoor-ee about zees. Be zafe." Raia nudged me for one more pet.  "Gobbledy-gook, Raia. Au revoir." They took off down the street.

In the grand scheme of things, the conversation was short and of no consequence.  That said, we both felt much gratitude toward the man for his kind words to us about our country.  There have been times we've encountered foreigners who have a pretty negative attitude towards us simply because we're Americans.  (And, yes, I know there are Americans who do the same thing about certain nationalities. Each is as ignorant as the other.)  I'm just happy that today we encountered such a kind man.

A pretty somber post for today, I know.  I'm sorry, but it is what hit home for me.


Side note:  We were going to go to Arles today, but we're both fighting colds (Merci, Paris.) and thought we'd just stay around here and explore.  Tomorrow, we plan to head to St.-Remy-de-Provence (and possibly Arles) via bus.  That should be an adventure.

By the way... God bless America.

French Class, Part 4

"The American arrives in Paris with

a few French phrases he has culled

from a conversational guide or picked up

from a friend who owns a beret."

~ Fred Allen

The first time I came to France, I was lost because I could not figure out much of the language As many of you know, I speak Spanish fluently, but my knowledge of the French language didn't extend beyond a few phrases I picked up from friends who studied French in high school or college. Knowing Spanish was of little help as the vocabularies are really too different.

Fast forward to this year. I took Italian classes two years ago in an attempt to learn the language of my grandparents. Going in, I thought — and everyone told me — I'd have it pretty easy since I speak Spanish and blah, blah blah. Surprise!! While verb conjugations are very similar and some of the vocabulary and most pronunciations are close, I found Italian to be closer to French than to Spanish.

I'm doing much better reading things in French this year since the vocabulary now makes sense/ I do have a bit of a problem with verb conjugations and such, but I can at least read signs (and menus) more easily. I've even increased my French vocabulary to include a number of important words: ouvert (open), ferme (closed), exit (sortie), dimanche (Sunday), lundi (Monday), ou (or), framboises (raspberries), and so on. Actually, I now know all the days of the week and months of the year, directions, and a lot of different foods. Aren't you impressed? :-)

                                                            Metro Exit

I do have a bit of a problem understanding spoken French, though. Some of these people talk like they have a mouth full of pebbles. Of course, I also have a huge problem speaking French and being understood.

If you've been reading along with us, you may remember that I mentioned trying to tell someone that I love dogs but ended up saying, "I love you the dog." I looked up how to say, "I love dogs," "J'aime les chiens" seems pretty easy, no? Apparently not for me.

We went into a boulangerie to get a baguette today, and some guy was in there with his Pomeranian. I started to talk to the dog, and he was a little snippy and not very friendly (Riley would say that I should expect that from a Pomeranian.). The owner was very nice, but he didn't speak or understand English.... or my version of French.

"J'aime les chiens," I thought I said. (I pronounced it Shgem lay sheen.) The guy took two steps back. I said it again. "J'aime les chiens."

"Maybe you said you love Chinese," Mike said. I ignored him since everyone knows 'Chinese' in French is chinois.

"J'aime les chiens," I repeated. "I love dogs." I patted my heart and pointed to the dog. He looked at me like I was crazy, and the dog turned her head toward her owner.

The gal with whom he'd been talking addressed him. "Gobbledy-gook. Gobbledy- les chiens." I think she told him I wasn't crazy and that I was trying to say I love dogs.

He smiled at me. "Gobbledy-gook. Gobbledy-gook. Gobbledy-gook."

"He saiz zee doog, she eez shy," the woman told me.

"Si. I mean, oui," I replied. "Merci. Au revoir, Pooky!" They all breathed a sigh of relief as we walked out of the store.

Actually, whenever I say, "Merci,"  "Bon soir" (Good evening!) and "Au revoir," I always get good responses (probably because they don't have to listen to me butcher their language any longer).

                                                       Palais du Papes

On another note, we toured the Palais du Papes today (The Pope's Palace), and we think we'll go to Arles tomorrow and Marseille on Thursday. Maybe I can pick up a few more phrases by then. I'll let you know.