Back in DC alas! - Sep 29, 2009 - Paris, Île de France, France

We forgot about computers! Actually, it's very difficult to find a cyper cafe in France these days. It seems everyone has an IPhone or similar and depends on WiFi (say WeeFee en francais) Besides, we learned not to care about much but being french and computer free.

There will be pictures here soon. You will enjoy the video of our singing and dancing on the bridge at Avignon. We just had to. It was 45 years ago when my dear friend, Nicole Reffay nee Fornier, then the high school exchange student for the year, taught the song "Sur la Pont de Avignon" to all the Masons in our Salem back yard. Through the years, Nicole has told us it was silly to want to sing and dance on the bridge so she wouldn't allow us to go. But this time we broke free and did it.

Not that I wanted to get away from Nicole. Our friendship has been strong all these years and the moment we are together again, it's non-stop chatter, with frequent corrections of my french by Nicole. She simply cannot stop being a language teacher even though she retired last year. McKenzie claimed she couldn't even get a word in to find out where the bathroom was and eventually took off on her bike to explore the streets of Lyon. Nicole and Jerome have their huge four bedroom flat on the market,finally realizing that the kids are all really gone. It will be hard for them to give up the location in the heart of Lyon near the river (picture a Manhattan apartment on the upper West side) but they are planning to buy a small house with a garden at the end of the subway line. See, French or American, we are all facing the same issues: selling a house in a flat market and moving on into retirement. They are keeping the beach house, thank heavens.

My week of cooking with Walter and Patricia Wells (author of Food Lover's Guide to Paris and 10 other french cookbooks) was magical. Ten of us met at her house, Chanteduc, in the Vaucluse, each morning at 10am to pick herbs and veg from her garden and prepare lunch which we ate until about 2:30. Then back to L'Eveche, the B&B owned by Jean-Loop and Aude in Vaison la Romaine for a nap. Back to Chanteduc at 7pm to repeat the routine for dinner. I lost five pounds employing the french red wine technique.. we drank lots so that must have been what happened.

They took us to Christia winery in Chateauneuf de Pape and showed us their favorite vendors at the weekly street market in Vaison. Everyday our cheese came from one of the (only) three female cheesemasters in France who is a neighbor and friend of the Wells. I fell in love with Walter (a clone of Bob,in face and spirit) but McKenzie told me to back off as he was clearly Patricia's pride and joy. Walter was managing editor of the International Herald Tribune in Paris for 30 years. Both Patricia and Walter treat their "students" as a bunch of visiting friends so you leave sure they are your NBF's. The other students were all fun, interesting and die hard foodies and travelers none of whom thought it crazy to be doing what we were doing all day instead of looking at Chateaus.

Then there was Nice...need I say more. See the picture above. We were on the 3rd floor with a small balcony in the center of the daily flower and vegetable market on the Cours Saleya. You might be able to see a mark on the building at the end of the line coming up from the bottom. Our landlord's mother, charming and warm and darling Erica welcomed us to the apartment with a bottle of Cote de Rhone left by Dr. Horace Massa, the owner. He plans to use the place 3 months a year until he finishes gadding about as a visiting anesthesiologist. I, naturally, offered to take care of it the rest of time so we are talking deals.

I would go to the boulangerie for breakfast (that used to be Karen's job and Mckenzie doesn't want it) then get the daily veg and "un cafe" and return home. Usually I found a note that said "Gone to the Beach" I would change into my suit and head to that circle in the photo where I normally found McKenzie.

Yes, there were many old ladies there without swimsuit tops but NOT me. The young trim beautiful women all kept their tops on. Go figure. The beach is rocky and it's a bit of a chore getting into the sea but once there I never wanted to get out. I swan and floated and swam and floated. McKenzie is a certified lifeguard so I had protection but she usually wanted sun more than sea so retreated back to the beach often leaving me to potentially drown but I didn't. Getting back out of the sea was even more treacherous than getting in so I usually let the waves tumble me up on shore. I had to stop that because it alarmed the other beach go-ers to see a fat old lady tumble out of the sea and they would run to rescue me. I have yet to learn the french for "it's the only way I can get out and I am not hurt" but I found that OK is a universal word.

We drove to Torino, Italy to meet up with my knitting friends and get regal treatment. We fought our way through Monaco. It is no longer the the cute little village of vespas that Bob and I knew but rather a high rise stacked traffic congestion. But we did see an masted sailing ship to save the day and we drove the corniche..McKenzie there, me back. Big Sur beats it and we never saw Cary Grant behind a wheel.

Those are stories for later.