They seem very ordinary.  Those moments that change our lives forever.  Really, it’s that just before them was ordinary.  And then something happened and everything stopped or glowed or vibrated and stood out somehow from the moment before.

And looking back, it is all clear, how life changed in an instant.

Albert Camus said: “A person’s life purpose is nothing more than to rediscover, through the detours of art, or love, or passionate work, those one or two images, in the presence of which, his heart first opened.”

For me, it wasn’t an image.  It was a sound.  Or rather, sounds.

It was a hot September day, and my sister Sharon and her best friend Holly were huddled close together on Sharon’s bed discussing their first day of high school.  I was still in the 8^th grade, anxious to hear about their new world–of cute senior boys, (I learned the term ‘upper classmen’) upcoming football games and something called ‘pep rallies’.

Then there were all their new classes—biology, chemistry, and for Holly, French I.  My sister, Sharon, had to take Latin.  My mother insisted that it was the ‘mother of all languages’ and that we all had to take two years.  Mass was still said in Latin, so that was something, too.  Sharon read from her Latin I Book:  ‘amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis amant’.  ‘I love you’ in Latin.  I was unmoved.

Then Holly began reading from her French I book, words and phrases like ‘chambre meuble’—furnished room.  She tilted her head and made her lips into a kissing shape—‘oui, oui, chamber meuble’.  She and Sharon giggled, seeing some meaning there that I missed, but I was transfixed.

The sounds—it sounded exciting, hypnotic and worldly to be able to make those French sounds.  Holly kept saying words:  ‘Je t’aime’.  ‘I love you’.  How romantic.  I kept listening, my attention riveted on her words and on the sense of excitement I felt hearing them.

I’d heard French words before.  My dad had spent four months in France during the Normandy Invasion of World War II.  He loved to tell stories about his time there, about the warmth and gratitude of the French people at the arrival of the Americans.  And about his efforts to speak French.  Dad learned his French in a country high school in South Dakota, where the teacher, who had never heard French, was reading a lesson ahead to teach it.  We’d giggle when Dad told how ‘s’il vous plait’ came out sounding like ‘silver plate’.  I adored my dad, but his French sounded Midwestern, American, boring.

But this French sounded luscious, sensual, inviting.

That day, that moment, those sounds, may not be something that Sharon or Holly would even remember.  But as I sat there with them, on the pink chenille bedspreads, in the bedroom of my childhood, something changed inside of me, woke up and paid attention.  On that hot September afternoon, my life turned in a new direction and vistas opened up beyond the life I’d known.

I could learn those sounds and words and be a part of that place in the French I textbook, with the side walk cafes where starving artist types sipped strong coffee out of tiny cups.

I didn’t know what starving artists were and I had never tasted coffee, but I knew if I went to this place, where they said ‘chambre meuble’ like that, I could be happy.

I could also be far away from the small town in rural southern California where I’d lived my whole life.  Far away from my mother’s coldness and sometimes cruelty.  It was even a place where my father had already been.  That was important too.

The next year, when I began high school, I suffered through the dreaded Latin I class—‘amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant’.  I was unmoved.

So I begged, pleaded and cajoled my mother into letting me out after only one year.

I could take French, I argued, a language that people still speak.  Didn’t that make more sense?  In one of the rare moments that I can recall when my mother actually listened to me and seemed to care about what I wanted, I prevailed.

The next year, Sharon and I began French I together.  I was a sophomore, she was a junior.  It was a first for us to share a class, since we were in different grades.  We were excited to sit next to each other, and chat before and after class.

But once the bell rang, I was riveted on the French.  That first year, our teacher was an egotistical bore who seemed to enjoy hearing himself speak French (in a pompous voice) more than he cared whether we learned any.  I studied hard anyway. He gave an easy A or B if you were a girl and smiled at him. I did that, but also earned my A+.

The second year, French II, Sharon and I moved into Mr. Maiwald’s class.  He was a short German man with a pointed head and one eye that didn’t move.  He had the reputation of being the hardest teacher in the school, who flunked students regularly.  He was also the German teacher and had taught our brother German.  Next to my dad, he was the smartest person I’d ever come across.

He made it very clear on the first day that he would give hard tests, be a tough grader, but that we would learn French.  I was thrilled.

I became obsessed.  I made flash cards by writing French vocabulary words onto 3×5” index cards and carried them with me wherever I went.  I’d study them on the ½ hour ride to and from school on the school bus.

I’d have them on the ironing board so I could be learning new words when I ironed my starched white gym shirt and dark blue gym shorts each week or the blouses with the big ruffles down the front that were in style in the mid sixties.

I’d stay up late studying and figure out all the tiny nuances of how the verb endings had to agree when you conjugated them, all the different tenses, all the accents and irregular verbs.

I knew he’d ask those things on the exams.  But it wasn’t that.  I had to learn it all.

French and my dream of going to France became the center of my own private universe.  I was safe from my real life as a teenager, from family problems, from boyfriend woes, from worrying if I was fat.  When I said those sounds, I felt free and alive in a way I couldn’t in my normal life.

I got 100% on all the tests.  It became a sort of silent battle between us, this short stocky German man with one funny eye and this tall, shy, high school junior.   He wanted to see if he could make me stumble.  He never did.

It was exhilarating for me to excel in his class.  But each word I learned, each rule I mastered, each accent egu or accent grave that I correctly placed on a French word became a small victory.

It was another step closer to the day that I would fly across the Atlantic Ocean to France, sit at one of those sidewalk cafes and move my lips like a kiss to speak French.

© Diane Covington 2009

I’m sitting on my couch with a cozy fire crackling and my two kittens in my lap and snuggled close. I got them in July and though Joanna took good care of them, they seem so glad to see me–Mom’s home! They usually run outside in the morning and start chasing bugs and climbing trees and things, but today they are staying close.

I spent Saturday in Aix and opted to stay that last night there and get up at 4am to take a taxi to the airport. The hotel there was so much nicer than a sterile cubicle near the airport would have been. I loved that day in Aix. I went to the coffee and chatted and then to lunch with 12 people. We carried on till 3pm. Then there was time to check email and do some writing and another party at 8pm! That was a typical day in Aix when I lived there. A slower pace and very relaxed. I made some new friends and reconnected with some old ones.

I traveled 24 hours to get home yesterday–very challenging. But I got upgraded to première class and that was super. Only problem was that they had some kind of water dripping problem and it was right over my seat–and that of a few others’. On take-off, I had to hold up my International Herald Tribune and try to stay dry. The woman who came around later wasn’t very nice and suggested I go to ‘economique’ or economy class, but I told her I wasn’t budging–I’d take my chances that it was all done dripping. It was, except for a few random drips and I could live with those. It was great to stretch out and nap and I had a fun seatmate and we chatted.

It was so amazing to look out the window and watch the clouds and land and the giant engines just behind my seat. What a mystery it is to fly like that. I don’t understand it any more than I understand email, but I am grateful that we safely traveled through all that sky and landed again in San Francisco.  Joanna met me and drove me home.

Fall started while I was gone. It is chilly now at night and the trees are beginning to turn. We had a giant rainstorm and that was good–we so needed the rain. I went out this morning and gathered some eggs, cut some flowers and picked some grapes and figs.  So yummy and fresh. The chickens are good and the garden still has tomatoes and we had a huge pumpkin crop this year, so lots of pies!

I know that it will take me weeks to integrate all that I experienced during those 15 days of magic. Thank you so much for sharing it all with me. Writing up the articles helps me to remember all the joy. If you want to check out the blog that I did that I got paid for, you can go to: (HYPERLINK “http://touristtravel.com/blog/”http://touristtravel.com/blog/). I’m not sure if he as all of them up yet and I still have one more to turn in, but it was a different flavor than the one that I sent you–you got the inside scoop!

I hope to go back next winter again, but for now, it is good to be home and to sleep in my cozy bed and enjoy the magic of my farm. Will send some last photos.

Big hugs to all of you,

Diane

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

Good morning!  My clock on my computer still says the time in California, so it is 12:32am there and 9:32am here. I’m propped up on my bed in my tiny room at Le Manoir, but happy and content. I have floor to ceiling French doors that open to a lovely tree outside my wrought iron railing (where I’ve hung some wash, hidden by the trees) and the courtyard beyond. The sun is shining bright through my window, just the way it used to in my apartment here.   Coming here last night felt so good. It is just a few blocks from my apartment in Aix, in the same neighborhood, so I knew where I was going. The sky is bright blue and the air crisp.

This is my last full day in France and it is a powerful feeling to know that tomorrow I get on the big metal ‘time machine’ and go back to California, English and modern life. This building is at least 300 years old if not older and it feels different, not to mention life in French.

Yesterday, I was totally pampered for the day. I didn’t swim in the morning since it was cloudy–I let my mind win there. I also wanted to be ready to go when the taxi came at 10:45 to go to the village. What a gorgeous area of France. It is all vineyards, farms, country houses, tiny villages and then the Mediterranean shining just a few kilometers away.

I arrived at La Cadière d’Azur a few minutes early, so left my bags and wandered around the tiny village. Then the manager of the hotel met me and spent about an hour taking me on a tour of the hotel and spa. It is the only hotel in the village and the rooms are in little houses right next to the hotel. The restaurant is a one star Michelin and more about that later! It was started by a mom and dad 40 years ago and now their son and daughter came back to help. The son is a chef, like his dad.

After an aperitif, champagne with peach liquer in it, then it was lunch in the restaurant with a breathtaking view of the valley. The lunch was so delicious-I took photos of the light, small courses. Then I went on to the spa for a massage and soaking time in their warm pool and steam room. They use aromatherapy for their treatments and I chose lavender. Just walking into the spa, there’s a fragrance that I recognize and go ‘Ahhh’.

After the spa, we had a quick tour of their farm where they grow a lot of their own vegetables and herbs (organic). Then back in to a taxi to the train station.

It took 2 1/2 hours to get to Aix and then the walk through town with the bags, but it is great to be here. So comforting to feel at home.  I spent the whole day yesterday in French, not one word of English, though I still hear English inside my own head. Though sometimes, after a day like yesterday, it starts talking French!

I wanted to find a bowl of vegetable soup, but couldn’t, so ended up with a picnic in my room of cheese, wine, tabouli and some cookies. I’d missed the party because I got here so late.  But the bath was hot and the room cozy, so I was fine.

I’m going to the English speaking coffee this morning, then probably to an airport hotel tonight.  It will be hard to leave Aix again, not to mention France.

Going to sign off now and send some photos of yesterday.
More soon.

Love,

Diane

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

‘Ca va’ means it is going well, here in France. It’s been a bit of a bumpy road, but it still goes well.

I was so sad last night when I heard that the woman with the chateau was expecting me and had dinner ready and lunch the next day! What a confusion that was. When she didn’t respond, I didn’t want to be a pushy American, so I let it go. It turns out that if I’d called even one more time, it would have all gone through.

But I have to trust in the way things turned out, something I learned again from John O’Donohue. So even though my hotel room was only a tiny step above a youth hostel, it was where I ended up and I had to know that somehow it was right.

I called Adeline, the woman from the chateau/winery and we had a great chat and I told her I would work on getting a great assignment about Var region wines and then come back, this time with it all worked out way in advance. It seemed to smooth things over from all the missteps we took. If I had a cell phone here, it would have been so much easier. I have to try to figure that out for next time.

The sound of the sea was lovely last night and I had my windows wide open. I would have gone in again this morning, but it was cloudy and a bit chilly, so this time, I let my mind win that battle.

I’m waiting for a taxi to take me to le petit village of La Cadière d’Azur. It is so small that the place where I’m going is the only hotel there. It is called L’Hostellerie Bernard and it has a one star Michelin restaurant and an aromatherapy spa. Since one of the articles that I’m doing is ‘Sensory Provence’, that should really fit. The proprietière of the hotel seemed pleased with the fit.

So it is a gift to my body today to have some pampering. Dragging bags along bumpy streets and up and down stairs–no elevators in the last two hotels–is a total work out. But the swimming was grand yesterday, both times, and today should be good too. After the spa, it will be taxi/train/bus and then rolling bags for 15 minutes along the streets of Aix to my hotel.  But if I get there in time, I can go to a party tonight with old friends from when I lived in Aix. If not, then that’s alright too.

Just today and tomorrow to enjoy this journey and then back on the plane early Sunday to come home to San Francisco.  It all seems heightened, knowing I’ll be leaving again soon.

The hotel where I am is across the street from an École Maternelle, or school for tiny tots. I saw three-year olds playing as I walked by. Have you ever noticed how children scream in joy when they play? What a beautiful sound. Such music. I just had to stop and notice. When did we lose that capacity to express ourselves like that? We could/can learn so much from them. That’s my belief and why I love spending time with my grandchildren.
Love to you from here. More soon,

Diane

The hotel that I booked is one that I chose for my friend Janna and her family when they came to Aix. It is called Le Manoir and was an abbey and has these wonderful arches and old wood beams in the ceilings. It is just a few blocks from where I lived, so I know the neighborhood well.

Diane Covington

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

I’m still in Bandol, which is the little village across the harbor from the island I stayed on last night. Or rather, the island is across the harbor from Bandol. I swam this morning in the Mediterranee and it was divine. It wasn’t easy getting past my mind to get in and I had to laugh at the conversation in my head as I stood at the shore. It went something like this:

Adventuresome Spirit: Let’s go swimming! Look at how it sparkles!
Mind: Are you crazy? Look at those white caps. That’s from the wind. It is cold!
AS: Ah C’mon, don’t be a stick in the mud. How many times do you get a chance to swim in the Mediterranean?
A boat goes speeding by with two men in wet suits, who happen, it seems, to point at me, or not, but my mind seizes on that and runs…
Mind: Look at those men. They’re wearing WET SUITS–they’re smart–and they’re pointing over here–probably can’t believe you want to do this!
AS: Ah C’mon, it will feel soo good!
Mind; Well, just get it over with then, I can see that I can’t talk you out of it.
AS: 1,2,3–Yikes, it is chilly, but GREAT!
Mind: Can’t wait to get into a hot bath…

So it was great! It felt wonderful and I could taste the salt in the water and it was so cool, fresh and refreshing. Then I jumped into their very chilly pool. Then I took that hot bath and that was great too.

I took the ferry back across the harbor and ended up at a hotel in Bandol that is also on the Med, so swam again this afternoon.  Lovely.

It took me most of the afternoon to find a hotel, mostly because the Tourist Office was closed from 12:00 till 2:30–that’s the south of France for you.

I wanted to talk to them about hotels and also leave my bags there while I looked for one. So finally, at 4pm I had a hotel and was headed back to the beach. It occurred to me that a lot of traveling, when you’re living on the edge and it is not all planned out, it about where you’re going to sleep and where you’re going to eat! Such basic necessities.

It turns out that my friend with the chateau was trying to reach me and wanted me to come but I didn’t have a phone for her to reach me and she didn’t get my emails. Darn.  I sure wanted to go! But we talked tonight and I’m going to work on getting an assignment to do an article on wines of this region and come back. I would have gone to see her in a second if I’d known that she wanted me to come. Oh well.

Tomorrow, I go to visit a hotel and spa in a little village about 20 minutes from here. I could have stayed there but they were all booked up. But they invited me to come for lunch and to have a massage at the spa. It sounds lovely. I’ll take a taxi from here because that’s the only way to get there without a car.

After that, I plan to go back to Aix for one night. (That means trains and busses with my luggage). Being on my own is good, but it gets kind of lonely and so I’m headed back to Aix and friends. Saturday night I’ll have to spend the night near the airport, unfortunately, because my flight leaves at 6:15am on Sunday. So I have two more days of fun before heading home.

Last night at the hotel on the island, it was deserted. It turns out that a bank had booked tons of rooms for a conference but with the banking crisis going on, had to cancel. It was so empty. I met a lovely couple from Amsterdam and since we were the only people in the restaurant, we chatted and laughed. It is hard to follow all that is going on from here, (the financial crisis) but it sure sounds serious! What a mess.

My hotel room is so tiny!  Another 10×10, but at least it isn’t orange! When I’m on my own, oh well–and it is still $100! I miss the luxury of the Cinderella rooms. It is so easy to get spoiled. But the sea is lapping against the rocks under my window and it sounds wonderful. I should have time to take a swim in the morning before heading off to the village of La Cadière d’Azur for lunch and the spa.

More soon,

Diane

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

I’m sitting in my room, just a foot from my terrace, where the Mediterranean is lapping right below the window. Such a lovely sound, so eternal and soothing. Seagulls screech and dive and wind surfers are roaring along in the waves.

All is well, but earlier today, I wasn’t sure where I was going to end up. John O’Donohue always said that we are being ‘minded’ and that ‘do not be afraid’ occurs (or recurs in this case) 366 times in the Bible, but today, it took a lot of faith to remember that. But I did, thanks to two retreats with John and rereading his book Anam Cara about 200 times. And interviewing him for The Sun magazine, which required about 100 hours of transcribing…

But first, a little background. I had two fun days with Maite, my dear friend from Aix. She is a tour guide and now lives near Arles, and picked me up in Aix on Monday. She had to do a tour for a group of American bicyclists in Uzes, a wonderful little village, so I went along for the tour. I sent some photos of that.

Then yesterday, she had a day off, so after we did my linge, or laundry and hung it out on the line, we went to Les Baux and saw the Van Gogh ‘Son et Lumière’ which was powerful and very moving. It is so sad that he killed himself! He had so much in him left to express!

I will always remember one painting from the exposition we went to in Marseille. The paint was thick and swirly and in the top left hand corner, he’s signed it simply ‘vincent’ all lower case. Just to see those letters scratched into the paint moved me somehow–to be in the presence of his work, and to feel him there in those letters.

After the Van Gogh time, we visited the village of Les Baux– magical.

So today, I’d planned to leave Maite’s and go to the chateau where the woman had invited me from the luncheon last week. But by this morning, she hadn’t returned my calls or email. I wasn’t sure if she was avoiding me or just too busy to get the messages.

So truth be told, I was leaving Maite’s and going to the train station with nowhere to go. I decided to go to Marseille, which is a jumping off place for many options. Luckily, this morning, I called my good friend ‘Tink’ from the tourist office of the region of the ‘Var’ which we visited last week.

She was my early morning swimming buddy as the sun was coming up, and we bonded over the chilly morning and chilly water. She went to work to look for somewhere for me to go. We laughed about that fact that I was ‘homeless’ and ‘la Perdue Américaine’ the lost American. She couldn’t find anything for me right away–I called her a few minutes before I left for the train station, so we agreed that I’d call her again from the train station in Marseille.

I did and she asked me to call her back in a half hour. She was still trying to find something. So I trundled off (with bags) and had a light lunch and then called her back. She really got into the spirit of the adventure of it all, that I was willing to go wherever she could find me a place. At one point, she asked to call me back at the phone cabine where I was calling her and I stood there waiting for it to ring. We laughed about how it could have been some espionage, with me waiting for the public phone to ring.

But Tink came through big time. I knew I was going to a hotel on an island just off the coast of Bandol, so I took the train to Bandol. I had to ask which stop to get off at and that usually horrifies people that I’m on a train and going somewhere and not sure where to get off. But I got off at the right place and since there were no taxis, lumbered down the hill with my rolling bag, computer bag and backpack.

I try to maintain some sense of dignity in these cases, even though I feel pretty silly walking through the streets of a strange town towing my bags. They make a really loud sound rolling along on the old stone sidewalks. It’s hard to be invisible! I seemed to be the only tourist and the only American–a good sign, and after about 15 minutes of wrestling the bags, I ended up in the port and right ahead of me was the little ferry to L’ile de Bendor and a photo of my hotel, L’Hotel Palais de Bendor.  Wow, it really was a palace!

So here I am, sipping a rose wine that was a gift from Chateau de Berne and feeling very content. John O’Donohue would be proud!  I didn’t freak out. I have a card at home that says: “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.” Well, today, I was not taking up too much space and I am so blessed to be here in this gorgeous place.

I’m labeling Bandol the ‘undiscovered St. Tropez’ because there are huge yachts like in St. Tropez, but this place seems to be as yet, undiscovered.

Not sure where I”m going tomorrow! I may stay here another night on my own, at a hotel in Bandol, or head back to Aix.

Helen Keller said: “Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all”. Today totally qualified as an adventure. And I landed on my feet.

Will send photos! I also discovered that the three magic words here are:  ”Une journaliste Américaine” (with an introduction, bien sûr!)

The adventure continues and more soon…

Love,

Diane

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

Just a few photos from a bakery in Aix-en-Provence and a little girl who was appreciating the view. They do these kinds of creations every single day, in a normal bakery–can you imagine? I’ve been with my good friend Maite in Arles and will write soon. Today I’m leaving and not sure where I’m going yet!

Getting on the train to Marseille at 10:45 and either going to the castle where I was invited or somewhere else. It is a bit nerve wracking but also part of the adventure to see where I end up. All the options are good, so we shall see what the divine has in mind for me.

More soon and à bientôt,

Diane

PS: You can read my other blog at touristtravel.com. Scroll down to the first one and then up to the 3rd.

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

There’s talk of putting in a TGV-fast train-from Aix to Nice and it would go through vineyards and farms near Mount St. Victoire, the mountain that Cezanne painted over 80 times.

So today farmers and wine growers from that area had a demonstration at La Rotonde, the largest fountain in Aix.  It is also a huge round about, so they basically snarled up traffic for a while, but it was interesting to watch.

I hope they win. I hiked that mountain on 1/1/2000 with a group of friends and we drank champagne at the top.

I liked how the water from the fountain and the cool lions were all a part of the tractors with their signs—kind of a collage…
Hugs,

Diane

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

It’s Sunday and I’ve spent since Friday getting to know my city in France, the one that I can call home, Aix-en-Provence, where I lived for 8 months between November 1999 and July 2000.

It is so special to have a place in France that feels like home, where I know the best boulangerie, the open markets with the freshest fruits, vegetables, etc. The streets here of the ‘centre ville’ or old town, where I lived and where I am again, wind around like a snail, all cobblestoned, and end up at the Mairie, or Mayor’s office. That’s where I was on Friday night with all the people from Maison de la France or the French Government Tourist Offices from all over the world.

That place or square is where I had a photo with my article in More magazine in 2001, and I always stop and take a moment there, it is such a beautiful square with its 13th century clock tower that tools the hours. I took a photo this morning that I will send along.
Saturday was a perfect day here in the south, in Provence–sunny, bright blue sky, warm.  After the coffee with the group of English/Americans where I met a lot of new people, I took the bus to the village of Equilles. I met up with my friend Solange and her friend Elizabeth, and we drove to Ventabran, another village, for a ‘Vide Grenier’ or ‘Attic cleaning’ literally, where people had set up booths to sell their junk.

Some of the vendors were ‘les professionales’ as my friend Solange said, and we avoided those. I spent a total of 12 euros, but got some treasures. An antique dress with handmade lace that could fit Ellie or Ava for dress up, for three euros, a beautiful old soup bowl with tiny roses, Limoges, for one euro, an antique piece of linen, for one euro and then some lovely Provencal napkins for one euro each that would sell in a shop for five-eight euros each.

We wandered around for hours, looking at everything. The village itself was very ‘charmant’, and we walked the steps down and then up to see it. After a light dinner at Solange’s, we headed back to Aix to see a movie–American dubbed in French. We had spent the day ‘en francais’ so I had a lot of practice, but in the movie, they talk so fast that a lot of it went over my head. My head is clearing, though, as I get more used to the time, so it gets easier and easier.

I understand again how the French can eat what they eat and get away with it. Since I landed in Aix without a car, I have averaged about three hours a day of walking. That burns up a lot of ‘pain au chocolat’ (which I had for breakfast today). I went to mass in the Cathedral and the huge pipe organ sounded so beautiful in the soaring space. I am a ‘French Catholic’ and only go to mass here, where the French reminds me of my childhood when it was all in Latin, and they use Frankensence incense and sing the loveliest songs.

My apartment is comfortable and there’s a hotel next door where, thanks to the card of introduction from the Office de Tourisme here, I can use the email. Cool.

My brand new camera, which I bought for this trip, is mysteriously ‘en panne’ or not working, so I’m using my little Nikon as a back up, so will send photos soon.

I am so happy and grateful for each moment here. I got some news that a friend in Nevada City, younger than me, died. Life is so precious. I wake up each morning with a prayer that I may know what it is that I am to do that matters, with this precious day.

In love and gratitude from here,

Diane or ‘DEE-Ann’ as they say here…

Error(Plugin Category Show): no post published in ''Fall in Provence' 2008'

It is now Saturday morning and I’m back in Aix-en-Provence, staying in an apartment of a friend. I belonged to a group (when I lived in Aix) called the Anglo American Group of Provence and they have coffees twice a week, so I dropped in on one when I was here in February. I met this woman with an apartment and she was open to me renting it from time to time. So through the wonder of email, I am here for three nights and very comfortable.

After my last entry, we had dinner in Aix with Bernadette from the Office of Tourism. Another amazing dinner and she is lovely. I met her last February too and she arranged for me to have a free hotel. She feels like a friend and was surprised to see me, so that was fun.

Thursday, we went to Marseille, just 30 minutes from Aix, for a tour, lunch and dinner. Marseille is a fishing port, first of all, and our hotel looked out on the harbor where the boats come in each morning with their catches and set up tables and sell the fish right there. It was amazing to watch it all happen and to know that I was witnessing something that has been going on for centuries. Marseille is also the oldest city in France because of its location and harbor.

We went to the most expensive restaurant on the harbor for bouillabasse–$100 per person, with six kinds of fish in a stew. It was good, but it turns out that the real story of this ‘fish stew’ was that the fishermen had to use up the fish that were either damaged or the ones that they couldn’t sell, so they created this stew out of them. It has evolved into much more than that now.

The basilica on the top of the hill was exquisite with inlaid gold and glass and tiles in frescos on the walls and ceiling. The Mediterranean looked so inviting, but I couldn’t just get our and jump in. I hope to before I leave though!

After one night in Marseille, I’m back in Aix for these three nights. I said goodbye to my group yesterday and got a ride with our bus driver to Aix. Then I went to the spa and was in heaven. A salt scrub, mud treatment and then massage sous affusion–the massage with the five shower heads and essential oils.  Ooh la la… I brought copies of my article (from my last visit, in Organic Spa) for the director and she was happy. I had sent her the link, but it is nice for them to have a hard copy of the story. I’m writing ‘Sensory Provence’ so will be able to include the spa for sure in that one.

There was a group of all the representatives from the Maison de la France offices around the world who were meeting in Marseille and they were all coming to Aix for a dinner last night, so I got included in that. I met up with them at the Mairie, the mayor’s office and then we walked to the restaurant.

It was really fun meeting people from all over the world and the mayor came with us, a woman who was charming and sweet. We all had to introduce ourselves to her, one at a time, in French, in front of the group, and I told her about how I’d lived in Aix in 2000 and she seemed pleased. It was kind of like getting called on in class! Whew!

After dinner, we all walked back to their bus and then I headed back to the apartment. I was walking down dark streets alone, but luckily, Aix is safe and there are lots of people around, so it went well.

Today, I’m going to the coffee then taking a local bus to a village to meet my friend Solange and go to a giant flea market in another tiny village. That will be fun.  At the dinner last night, I told a man from the tourist office that I needed a way to use wifi and he gave me his card and told me to introduce myself at the hotel next to my apartment and tell them that he said I could use their wifi, so here I am, another miracle on my list in France.  I just love to hear the sound of the emails going out!  With a mac, it sounds like a paper airplane flying.

I’ll send some photos of Marseille and more to come soon!
Sending love and hugs from Provence–and lots of magic!

Diane

Error(Plugin Category Show): slug 'euroblog-summer-2008' it doesn't exist