The Luberon
Okay, so I just need to get this out of the way because I went to Eliza's
Bonnieux
Eliza's house
Pasture
Nice
The weekend after I got back from Morocco I went to Nice for Carnival, which was ridiculously fun. The program took us to the grand parade, the theme of which was "King of the Blue Planet" (the irony of having a "green" type of thing, for a parade with countless exhaust-spewing floats that left Nice covered in confetti, garbage, and probably non-biodegradable silly string was not lost on me): I could go into detail about each and every float and the amazing performers (there was a massive mechanized dragon that spewed smoke, a giant float of Obama dressed as Superman holding a tree, acrobats performing in a bubble, hundreds of performers wearing amazing costumes, I was covered from head to toe in silly string), but to get a good idea of what it was like, I'm just going to say that there is still confetti on my floor. When I came back that night and got changed into my pajamas, an ocean of it fell out from who knows where. I still find it sometimes in between pages of books, in pockets, and under my bed. The Côte d'Azur, itself, was stunning: I have never seen a color blue like that. Unfortunately, the beaches in Nice are rocky and not that fun to walk barefoot on, although I did take my boots off and tough the Mediterranean for the first time. Nice had a wonderful Italian flavor, and although it's glory days are gone, walking along the Promenade des Anglais and seeing all the magnificent hotels, expensive bistros, and beautiful white boardwalk facing the sea made me feel a little bit more relaxed and a little bit glamorous.
Paris
Last weekend, I took the TGV up to Paris to visit my cousin (my grandmother's first cousin, really), Andrew. I stayed with him from Friday afternoon to Sunday morning, and it was really nice--I didn't do anything touristy, and except for spending an afternoon wandering around St. Germain and the Seine, and Andrew's 'hood of the 3rd arrondissement, most of the weekend was spent talking to Andrew and playing with his cats. I hadn't seen him since I was last in Paris, February of 2006, so it was good to see him again (and I'm sure he's reading this). Saturday, as I said, I walked around St. Germain and discovered Pierre Hermes macarons, which are highly superior to the ones at Laduree. Unfortunately I didn't take a picture...they were so bright and colorful, some even dusted with edible glitter, in flavors like Jasmine, Rose, Anise and Kumquat, Chocolate and Passion Fruit...delicious. After waiting on a line out the door, I bought Andrew a little assortment of them, and at first he was actually going to make me take them, so we compromised by sharing them together, as a very decadent dessert (fortunately, there were two of each flavor, making it much easier). I also made friends with Andrew's cats, especially Sylvia, an adorable, sweet little cat who likes to play with plastic bags and sleep on my pelvis at night. And, of course, no trip to see Andrew is without hearing various sordid stories about my WASPy family and getting to see lots and lots of old photographs--he even showed me his old homework from when he was seven years old! I was also cordially introduced to one of Andrew's younger friends, a student with whom we had dinner, who was very nice, if not a little overly serious (who also knew of all the sordid affairs of my family...and let me tell you, when someone you have never met already knows everything about your relatives, it makes you feel a little bit like a character in a book someone has read).
The weekend after I got back from Morocco I went to Nice for Carnival, which was ridiculously fun. The program took us to the grand parade, the theme of which was "King of the Blue Planet" (the irony of having a "green" type of thing, for a parade with countless exhaust-spewing floats that left Nice covered in confetti, garbage, and probably non-biodegradable silly string was not lost on me): I could go into detail about each and every float and the amazing performers (there was a massive mechanized dragon that spewed smoke, a giant float of Obama dressed as Superman holding a tree, acrobats performing in a bubble, hundreds of performers wearing amazing costumes, I was covered from head to toe in silly string), but to get a good idea of what it was like, I'm just going to say that there is still confetti on my floor. When I came back that night and got changed into my pajamas, an ocean of it fell out from who knows where. I still find it sometimes in between pages of books, in pockets, and under my bed. The Côte d'Azur, itself, was stunning: I have never seen a color blue like that. Unfortunately, the beaches in Nice are rocky and not that fun to walk barefoot on, although I did take my boots off and tough the Mediterranean for the first time. Nice had a wonderful Italian flavor, and although it's glory days are gone, walking along the Promenade des Anglais and seeing all the magnificent hotels, expensive bistros, and beautiful white boardwalk facing the sea made me feel a little bit more relaxed and a little bit glamorous.
Me and Destiny, the adorable granddaughter of Professor Scott, the Professor-in-Residence from Vandy. She spent the entire day putting as much silly string and confetti as she could find on her head (this was only the beginning).
Whenever we went to take a group photo, someone would attack us with silly string.
Told you.
Paris
Last weekend, I took the TGV up to Paris to visit my cousin (my grandmother's first cousin, really), Andrew. I stayed with him from Friday afternoon to Sunday morning, and it was really nice--I didn't do anything touristy, and except for spending an afternoon wandering around St. Germain and the Seine, and Andrew's 'hood of the 3rd arrondissement, most of the weekend was spent talking to Andrew and playing with his cats. I hadn't seen him since I was last in Paris, February of 2006, so it was good to see him again (and I'm sure he's reading this). Saturday, as I said, I walked around St. Germain and discovered Pierre Hermes macarons, which are highly superior to the ones at Laduree. Unfortunately I didn't take a picture...they were so bright and colorful, some even dusted with edible glitter, in flavors like Jasmine, Rose, Anise and Kumquat, Chocolate and Passion Fruit...delicious. After waiting on a line out the door, I bought Andrew a little assortment of them, and at first he was actually going to make me take them, so we compromised by sharing them together, as a very decadent dessert (fortunately, there were two of each flavor, making it much easier). I also made friends with Andrew's cats, especially Sylvia, an adorable, sweet little cat who likes to play with plastic bags and sleep on my pelvis at night. And, of course, no trip to see Andrew is without hearing various sordid stories about my WASPy family and getting to see lots and lots of old photographs--he even showed me his old homework from when he was seven years old! I was also cordially introduced to one of Andrew's younger friends, a student with whom we had dinner, who was very nice, if not a little overly serious (who also knew of all the sordid affairs of my family...and let me tell you, when someone you have never met already knows everything about your relatives, it makes you feel a little bit like a character in a book someone has read).
I left on Sunday morning with an inkwell shaped like a hippopotamus and a book of Brassai photographs, with a little commemorative note from Andrew (last time it was a Paris Michelin Guide, a book of Jaques Louis David paintings, a hat, a scarf, and a waistcoat from the 1800s that I still treasure); after a mad dash to the TGV station in which I was freaking out about missing my train and having to buy a new, 90 euro ticket (the most convenient line to Gare Lyon was closed, so we had to run to the A line, which, apparently went on strike and closed not 30 minutes later), we made it and I said goodbye to my cousin with a promise to come back soon. Anyway, it was a lovely trip (sorry...Andrew's high-class old-world mannerisms rubbed off on me. Give it another day or so and I will stop describing things as "lovely" or "vulgar" or calling people "great beauties"), and it was nice to just see family and not worry about doing touristy things at all. I really can't wait to come back--Andrew will probably be upset with me, but more and more I'm considering how much I really want to stay in America, and not France!
But anyway, here are some pictures (mostly taken with Andrew's camera, as my battery was dead):
But anyway, here are some pictures (mostly taken with Andrew's camera, as my battery was dead):
There were a ton of locks with the initials of various couples all over the Pont des Arts
So that's it! My fingers are killing me. Although we FINALLY have heat, it seems to be spring: the 10 day weather forecast never dips below the mid-50s, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders and my newfound pep to be productive is fighting against the urge to just sit outside and read or stroll around town. However, last night M. Poirsson (of the old couple we have dinner with) totally killed the mood by saying Spring in Provence may be sunny, but Mistral season and extremely windy during the day--apparently the French have a saying: "En avril, ne te découvre pas d'un fil," which is basically saying that one must be careful not to be too optimistic about the arrival of beautiful weather by taking off all your heavy clothes, because it's windy and just gets cold at night.
Ahh whatever. It's sunny! I'm in Provence! My family is coming in a couple weeks!
Bises!
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