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Chateau Sainte Sabine 1024 768 Mari Bickmore

Chateau Sainte Sabine

Experiencing French Elegance: My Stay at Chateau Sainte Sabine

My travel experiences have taken me to many corners of the globe, but my recent stay at the Chateau Sainte Sabine in France stands out for its unique blend of history, elegance, and natural beauty. This hotel, nestled in the Burgundy countryside, provided a magical retreat that was much more than just a place to rest my head at night.

Setting Foot in a Historical Marvel
As I made my first steps into the Chateau Sainte Sabine, I was immediately struck by its majestic grandeur. The castle, a testament to centuries past dating back to the 16th century, was as awe-inspiring as one could imagine. Its careful restoration has managed to strike a delicate balance, offering modern conveniences while maintaining the castle’s original charm and historical authenticity. The castle exudes an enchanting fairytale-like ambiance that is palpable the moment you step foot inside.

This feeling is further heightened by the stunning grounds that encircle the castle. An immaculate lake reflects the beauty of the chateau, creating a tranquil, serene atmosphere. The grounds are home to a herd of deer, providing a rare sight and creating an experience that is both surreal and soothing.

As I moved through the castle, I could almost feel the stories of the past coming to life, providing an intimate glimpse into the people and events that this castle has witnessed, a journey through time.

A Warm Welcome into French Hospitality
Upon setting foot inside the Chateau Sainte Sabine, I was instantly greeted by the friendly and approachable staff. I had been on the road for about six weeks at this point and it was so welcome to be welcomed. The team at the Chateau Sainte Sabine were helpful and welcoming, with a commitment to offering the utmost comfort to their guests. From the moment I checked in, their attention to detail and commitment to exceptional service was clearly evident. They extended their support and guidance in various ways, including providing recommendations for local sights worth exploring or the best dining options nearby, one of which was Le Lassey, which is onsite and is a Michelin-mentioned restaurant.

A Luxurious Retreat in the Rooms
Each room at Chateau Sainte Sabine is an expression of timeless elegance with an unmistakably French touch. They epitomize luxury and comfort, blending the castle’s historic charm with modern amenities seamlessly. Each room has a distinct design, making it feel like a bespoke living space rather than just a hotel room. These spaces beautifully merged the castle’s grandeur with luxurious comfort, offering a tranquil haven after a day filled with exploration and discovery. Our room had stunning views that stretched out into the horizon, offering a panoramic display of the stunning Burgundy countryside. For me the rooms at Chateau Sainte Sabine were more than just a place to unwind. They were an extension of the castle’s historical charm, offering guests the opportunity to live, if only for a short while, within the pages of a rich, fascinating past.

Exploring The Surrounding Serenity
Staying at the Chateau Sainte Sabine isn’t just about relishing in the luxuries within the castle, it’s about embracing the serenity of the natural beauty that surrounds it. Although the chateau is conveniently close to historic places like Dijon, Beaune, Chateauneuf, and the lovely Pouilly-en-Auxois, the castle grounds were truly a charmer. Taking a leisurely stroll around the pristine lake and sitting in the lawn chairs that dotted the perimeter, watching the deer grazing peacefully, and soaking in the tranquility of the unspoiled landscape created a magical ambiance. You are also in Burgundy, so there are many vineyards around to set up a tasting.

A Gastronomic Journey Through French Cuisine
The culinary experience at Chateau Sainte Sabine’s Le Lassey restaurant was a true celebration of French gastronomy. The menu was focused on local specialties, showcasing the rich flavors and culinary techniques that the region is known for. The ingredients were fresh, many sourced directly from the bountiful Burgundy countryside. The restaurant also offered a superb selection of wines from local vineyards. We’re not drinkers but I noticed that the staff was suggesting pairings to complement the dishes.

Unwinding
One of the highlights was the heated pool. I enjoyed lounging poolside, with the historic castle as my backdrop. I hope to visit in the summer and take advantage of cooling off after a long day of…maybe doing nothing. But I’m a wimp and October was not the month for me to enjoy the pool, even if it was heated. There is a lovely changing/bathroom area by the pool and a kitchen area stocked with beverages, at a cost of course, but so handy to have right there without having to walk back up to the chateau if you feel the need. I could probably do that for days.

Reflecting on a Memorable Stay
As I prepared to bid farewell to the Chateau Sainte Sabine, I was more than a little sad to be saying farewell. This hotel was not just another stop on my travels, but a dive into the timeless elegance that epitomizes French charm. If only I’d had a 1700’s ballgown, the castle stay would have been complete. The Chateau caters to a wide spectrum of guests; whether you’re passionate about history, a gastronome, or simply in search of a unique and enchanting escape, and whether you alone or traveling with friends, the Chateau Sainte Sabine possesses an allure that is sure to captivate you, much like it did me. I would definitely come back for a stay. We were there in the fall, but I would love to see it when the flowers are in bloom and it’s warm enough to dive into the pool! Maybe they’ll invite me back!

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Excuses

Don’t you hate excuses!?!?!  Well I’ve got a list for you.  I haven’t posted in ages and ages, BUT I have been otherwise engaged.  Let’s start back in March.  I spent March and April living with a family with an illness.  That is not a complaint.  I love them more than I can say and it was a blessing for me to be able to do that.  I wish beyond wishes that the need hadn’t been there, but to be able share the time with them was priceless.  Towards the end of that stay, I got the call that I had been expecting for about a year.  I didn’t answer the number the first time it rang because I knew when that number came up what it was going to be.  My biological father had passed away.  We hadn’t been particularly close, but death as a way of changing your perspective on that.  In point of fact, we had been estranged for many years.  But that is a story for another day.  I did make the decision to leave where I was and attend the funeral in Houston.  Luckily, another family member was due to arrive very soon to stay where I had been.  During the time I was away from home, we found that we were going to take a new job and move from the Midwest to the West Coast, Northern California to be precise.  So began a series of trips to look at our new surroundings and shop for a home, and back to our home to pack my car and drive out leaving most of our possessions in a house that was for sale…a house that we had just finished building in July 2014…a house that I loved.  In all our searching, we never found a house that we loved in our new town, but we did buy a house.  We closed on a Monday and left that Friday for a 2-1/2 week vacation; a few days in Amsterdam and a 2-week cruise on Celebrity to Scandinavia and Russia, and a throw back to early June when I had a ____ year high school reunion back in Houston for a long weekend (great time, wonderful people)…and then in Vegas in late June to attend my nephew’s wedding (Joejoe Diggs), along with my daughter, Amanda, and her husband, Bradley.  I got to see my bestest niece and nephew and their Mom!  They are so great!  All that traveling, especially the cruise, have added an ugly 10 pounds that I have got to shed.  In any event, it’s been a very full year so far and not likely to let down.

We are now in the midst of a huge renovation to make that house we bought a house we will love.  The people who lived in this house for the past 13 years did not have the word “maintenance” in their vocabulary.  The air conditioner filter had about 1/2 inch of lint on them when we replaced them.  The spa leaks, which they did not disclose, so that will be an entry for another day.  There were a couple of other nondisclosed items, but they don’t make me as mad as the spa does.   We’ll see how than story pans out.  We are in the middle of painting all the cabinetry and walls and trim, etc.  We completely deconstructed a wall in the living and that is almost finished reconstructing.   Darned if I don’t have to leave in the middle of this to go to London for an interior design job.  This may be the only time in my entire life that I am not biting at the bit to leave for a trip like that, but being in the middle of this makes it difficult.  I’ll just end with a few before pictures and early reno pictures.  I can’t wait to get back to cooking and food pix!  Oh, and there is an election year coming up.  That should be fun!  And right now I won’t get started on the Muslim invasion that is taking place, forever changing the face of Europe negatively.  I’m glad I’ve been able to travel there prior to this, although it had been getting worse over these past few years due to a smaller version of the same thing.

This post seems like such a short one when I think of all the things that have happened this year!IMG_2640_2 IMG_2638_2 IMG_2609_2 IMG_2608_2 IMG_2607_2 IMG_2604 IMG_2603  IMG_0759_2 IMG_0757_2 IMG_0753 IMG_0751_2 IMG_0750_2 IMG_0749_2 IMG_0746_2 IMG_0745_2 IMG_0744_2 IMG_0743_2 IMG_0740_2 IMG_0739_2 IMG_0738_2 IMG_0737_2 IMG_0735_2 IMG_0731_2

Enough is Enough…Muslims need their own designated place to live…and not with Western Society 270 187 Mari Bickmore

Enough is Enough…Muslims need their own designated place to live…and not with Western Society

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MODERATE ISLAMpeaceful religion

Hey, I usually never, ever post a politically-centric only article.  I am happy traveling and eating well, and will post something lovely to eat tomorrow, but for today I can’t help myself.  These Muslims are a plague and a pestilence wherever they become more than 5% (well any percent, but that tips their scales).  Every single day, somewhere in the world, an atrocity is committed in the name of Islam or by countries or people practicing Sharia.  Every. Single. Day.  Stoning, honor killings, chopping off hands, horrid treatment of women, rapes, pillages, forced conversions, beheadings, jizya…The list goes on and on.  You want to tell me that that is a small percentage of Muslims, 10-15%.  What percentage of Germans caused the Holocaust?  The activists?  10-15%.  With any historical war or evil movement, what percentage were the activists?  10-15%.  The biggest issue is the one that most people don’t want to see.  All Muslims believe that they are superior and that they should rule over everyone else.  That every person should have to live under Sharia.  All of them.  They are not the bomb-strapping, beheading, in-your-face killers.  They are just waiting for the others to do the wet work.  Part of those, however, are the complainers.  The ones who are offended.  They ones who are trying to change our laws, our cultures, the very fabric of our society, slowly, like a cancer.  Our governments, our liberals, our media are letting it happen.

say no to islam

Look at Sweden.  About 40 years ago their government voted to change their homogenous society to a multiculture society.  Once Sweden had almost no crime, and now they are number TWO in the world in rapes.

http://www.d-intl.com/2013/10/15/sweden-a-new-hell-for-women/?lang=en

Who do you suppose is committing the majority of those rapes?  But their news agencies and reporting bureaus are not allowed to report those numbers.  I suppose we should let that go and apologize because the women of Sweden aren’t covered head to toe in a black tent, otherwise the Muslim men can’t control themselves any better than animals.  (apologies go out to the animals).  Why are people not rising up in all our Western countries to protest?  Because we are lazy for one, but we are PC’ed to death or afraid we’ll be prosecuted for some “hate” crime.  I maintain that the term “Islamaphobe” is stupid.  A phobia is an irrational or unfounded fear of something.  There is nothing irrational or unfounded about it.  I read a new word lately that I like:  Islamapologist = our news and government would fall under that.

Over the weekend there were two shootings in Copenhagen committed by a Muslim, targeting an artist and at a Jewish synagogue.   Luckily, he was shot by police, after injuring three of them.  We must not let ourselves lose our freedom of speech and expression due to fear of harm or fear of “offending” them.   What is more offensive, a cartoon or a beheading (or any of the atrocities listed above?).  Jews are leaving France in record numbers (over 6000 in 2014 alone) due to fear from harm by Muslims.  They are being spit on, ridiculed and attacked by Muslims. http://www.newsweek.com/2014/08/08/exodus-why-europes-jews-are-fleeing-once-again-261854.html

http://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/jewish-graves-france-desecrated-nazi-slogans-swastikas-n306931

jewish gravesNBC reports that male teenagers were arrested for this, one having confessed, but did not report the names, thereby not reporting that it was Muslms.

“300 tombs were desecrated in the Jewish cemetery in the eastern town of Sarre-Union on Sunday. President Francois Hollande labelled the incident “odious and barbaric,” and Prime Minister Manuel Valls said via his Twitter feed that the “vile, anti-Semitic act” was “an insult to memory.”

CNN:  CNN states here that there is a growing anti-Semitism in Europe.  They are sooo PC that they cannot even say where is is coming from….THE MUSLIMS!  They won’t even utter that when they WONDER who did this to the graves.  Isn’t it more than obvious to everyone who can reason?  But, then again, CNN doesn’t reason very well.  CNN is non-news, in my opinion, so I even surprised that they reported this at all.

http://www.cnn.com/videos/world/2015/02/16/newday-bittermann-jewish-graves-desecrated-france.cnn

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Sometimes Rome is More Than You Hoped For (or When in Rome Don’t Necessarily Do As The Romans)

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI figured in the vein of my last unfortunate European altercation with the prostitute in Paris, I would share a story from the eternal city, Rome. I often travel with my cousin and a good friend from Houston….of course they’re from Texas! Two short, busty girls…petite….a blonde and a brunette with big personalities and typically with too much whine…I mean wine. On this particular trip, which was a few years ago, we had another friend with us, and it was our last stop on a long sojourn, and long before we had learned to pack light. But that is a another story for another time. This story is about flashers…wankers…in Rome. Segaiolo. It is a story I have verbally shared many times, but I figure I need to write it down for posterity and hopefully for your entertainment.  Again, always have your camera at the ready, because you never know what you are going to miss.  You would think after these photo op misses, I would have learned something when I got to Paris, but, alas, apparently I am a slow learner.

There are amazing things to see in Rome. I remember the first time I was in Rome with my daughter, then 16, and my cousin. You just walk around a corner and there is the Colosseum, like right in the middle of the city. A landmark you have read about and seen in pictures your entire life, just right there in the middle of everything with no one paying much attention. I was awestruck, and continued to be awestruck for days seeing all those ancient buildings and ruins that I had been entranced by my whole life.  Look up sites in Rome and the list goes on forever. From an early age all my reports were about some archeological site. I considered it as an avocation, but a professor in my freshman year steered me clear, and I will forever be in his debt.  In any event, Rome has ancient sites peppered throughout the city, and I do love sitting in a piazza ristorante people watching, with a 2000-year-old fountain splashing within earshot, and eating some really great Italian food.

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Back to the story: The first night on this particular trip, we were just girls out for a stroll around the city and came upon the Largo di Torre Argentina. When Mussolini was working on Rome in the late 1920s, this archaeological wonder was excavated, revealing extensive multi-level temples that lie 20 feet below the present-day street level. Besides several different temples, Torre Argentina also contains part of the famous Theater of Pompey. This is where Julius Caesar was betrayed and killed in 44 BCE. Today, volunteers at Torre Argentina care for approximately 250 cats, some of Rome’s feral cats of which it seems there are around 300,000 total. Every afternoon people gather to watch the cats on the ancient pillars and steps. If you start to really look into the square you notice the furry, wild felines everywhere. If you are so inclined you can admire the cats and their ruins from street level, volunteer, and even adopt cats (you can’t really take them, but they will take your money to care for them–that kind of adoption; kind of like adopting a kid on TV for 26 cents a day), and I love cats.

We arrived there around dusk and did our tour around the perimeter of the square, up and down the stairs, seeing what we could of the ruins and the cats. As we gathered at the corner of the square, seems like we were on something that elevated us steps above the sidewalk, we were looking down the street alongside the square. At about halfway down the block/square there was a guy looking directly back toward us wagging his Italian sausage for all to see (I just had to throw that terminology in – a friend of mine said it was almost obligatory).  Anyway, I thought I couldn’t be seeing correctly…I mean it was, uh, sizeable.  We all just stared at him in abject astonishment…and he just kept at it. Our friend, who was a first-time traveler with us , was appalled.  I think I was just thinking “wow, what a great story.” I don’t even remember if we left first or he turned to wave at someone else. I don’t even remember what else we did that night. Italians…hey whatev.

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So our trip continued, we saw amazing things and ate amazing food and even stayed in an amazing place. We consistently photobombed in the background of many a photo….don’t judge us. A great week, and we ended it spending Sunday traipsing from church to church…I mean there are over 900 churches in Rome. Probably near 100 of them are over 1000 years old, especially if you take into account buildings/temples that were converted to Catholic churches.  What do we have in America that old?  Well, the sequoia, but even the cliff dwellings in New Mexico are not quite that old.  So I am impressed with the splendor that was Rome.  I am not Catholic, but I truly love these old churches.  The Capuchin church and a few other churches have extensive catacombs and tunnels which are creepy and cool all at the same time. The art, the history, the antiquities, the architecture…the churches here have it all. I could spend days going through them, literally.

This particular Sunday,  we had crisscrossed Rome tracking down the churches we had on our list and some we didn’t. Again, it was getting dusk and we were beat. We walked into the foyer of a small corner church, but people were gathering for a meeting and I decided not to go in. One of the B’s lingered a bit longer just inside the doors, and a little old man in there puckered up and leered at her. She quickly scooted out the door, getting our attention but us not understanding what she was mouthing at us thumbing backwards. But with the way she was moving let us know that something had happened. As we were looking toward her, the old guy saunters out just behind her onto the upper step…of the church…another wanker. Seriously! This guy had to be 70 if he was a day…and we ran. Just like silly schoolgirls, ducking into the first large doorway we see and peeking around it to watch. Can you believe we were tittering, giggling, and he was just slowly moving forward bopping the baloney. And, yea, it was impressive, too. And all those people milling around and going to church? Not even acting like they saw him, totally ignoring the fact that there is an old man playing with his genitalia on the church steps. It was like we were the only ones who saw him. Do you think they sell those big things for unemployed Italian men to waggle at tourists to engender some type of Italian tirly-whirly mystique. Wave them at the ladies so they will go home and spread some urban legend of the Italian version of Wun Hung-lo? We will never know for certain, but on that same trip we saw a couple of fully clothed Italians, in full daylight on the sidewalk, playing with their own private amusement park. Wish I had photos. You just never seem to have to time to get the camera out at a time like that, so if this ever happens to you in Rome could you try to find out for me?  I apologize if this story is a bit off-color, but it is a true story, every single word, and it needed to be told.

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Photography Perils In Paris 577 1024 Mari Bickmore

Photography Perils In Paris

Just recently in September, my daughter, son-in-law and I were wandering through the streets of Paris and decided to tour L’Opera.  We became a little lost so we stopped to load directions on Amanda’s phone.  As we stood there, a woman came walking down the sidewalk across the street from us in full dominatrix regalia, carrying an umbrella (remember the umbrella part because it definitely plays into the story).  Now remember this is near high noon, middle of the day, and this “lady” of the evening (now remember it’s the middle of the day) struts down the sidewalk all strapped up in black leather and thigh-high stilettos   She commences to park herself right across the street from us and leans against a railing, in front of a store that I suspect sells what she is wearing among other things.  I can’t help myself…I quickly pull my phone into position to snap a photo, but at the same time I snap a car goes in front of her and soeiffel towerme pedestrians also, so all I get is a blurred picture of a car in motion.   In any event, at that moment she whips around and comes marching toward us, at a pretty good clip I might add.  We are like “uh-oh”  “OMG” and being the naives that we are, just stood there like deer in the headlights until she was upon us talking in loud, non-stop French as I tried to understand something of what she said.  It boiled down to “I am going to call the police if you don’t delete that picture.”  But she couldn’t understand that there was no picture with her in it!  Let me tell you, she was scary in those 6-inch spiked black heels and leather.  She grabbed my phone and was going through it looking for that non-existent picture and she wanted to go through all the way to the end…all 697 pictures worth.  I finally took back my phone from this Asian Amazon and said enough is enough!  Well, as you might guess, that didn’t sit very well with her.  She grabbed my left wrist and jerked me around to face her at the same time breaking one of my favorite necklaces off and into pieces with her other hand. all those pretty pieces tinkling across the sidewalk.  In my whole life I have never been physically restrained in anger!  I was in shock…all I could think to do was try to pry her hand off my wrist and yell “you broke my frickin’ necklace!” over and over while also keeping her from digging those spiked heels into my foot or leg.  My daughter on the other hand, having been raised with three brothers, was attempting to pull her arm off me with her pointy fingernails.  I guess the claws worked because I was released and she backed away.  However, she thought it was me who scratched her and she was not a happy camper, so as I bent down to pick up the remnants of my necklace next thing i know I am being whacked in the face with the umbrella (I told you to remember that weapon) and Miss BDSM waving forearm in my face like I had broken it and shouting French obscenities.    Amanda had apparently scratcher enough to at least get her to unhand me; that’s my girl!.  In any event, that umbrella strike hurt like heck!  Right across my cheekbone on the right.  Then, of course, I’m yelling “You hit me in the face!”….over and over.  Do you think that umbrella turns into a whip?   At that point, my daughter and I were seeing red and moving toward her aggressively still shouting the same thing, but my son-in-law was gently pulling us back, trying to be the voice of reason, and all I could think of was that she hit me and it hurt and this was a Crazy person (with a capital C).  He pulled us into a clothing shop and at first they were like “you can’t stay in here,” but then I showed them where she hit me and they saw who she was, so they very nicely shut the door to keep her out and told her to go away.   I apologize for not having pictures, but we didn’t stick around long to take more.   Try to visualize this scene and wish that it had all been caught on video…which I am sure it was but nobody sent it to me.  The only appeasing factor was that Bradley reminded me that tomorrow we would wake up and still be us and she would wake up and still be a prostitute.  But we never even made it to L’Opera.

All in all, though, I did come out with a little black eye and a great story.  I also got to learn a little self-defense, after the fact, and I now know how to get someone to release my wrist should I ever have an altercation with a prostitute on the streets of Paris, or any other city I guess.  I also learned that no matter how many times you replay what you should have said and done, you can never go back and get a re-do.  Moral of this story:  When you snap a picture, run as fast as you can!  They’re not going to catch you in those heels!  Sorry there are no pictures…so I will just put in a Paris shot.

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Dreaming of Mediterranean Weekends

Here I am again. Didn’t expect me again so soon, did you? I have to move along quickly now, as I come home on Saturday. 7-1/2 weeks ago it seemed like a long time, and now our sojourn in France is quickly coming to a close.

We bade farewell to our hostess at La Cordiere and headed south to the Mediterranean and Le Ciotat, but not without a pit stop in Aix-en-Provence. Why, pray tell, do you think we would make a stop on a drive that would only take at most an hour-and-a-half? Have you so soon forgotten La Tropezienne? – the cream puff? Doesn’t that seem like the perfect breakfast? We pulled into town and dropped the B’s off in front of Bechard, made the block and came back ‘round to pick them up. Of course, they weren’t there, so I just pulled up and waited…and waited…. and….soon they appeared. It was apparently a hot spot that morning, but they bought me calissons and all was well in the world.

We arrived at Le Ciotat by 10 a.m., checked into the hotel, Hotel Plage Saint Jean, and headed for la plage. Well, Amanda and I headed for the beach. The Bs now had A/C and were going to make the most of it. They said they stayed at the hotel beach for an hour before heading in for a late morning siesta, but I’m not buying that story. In any event, Amanda and I bought a big beach umbrella and a burger and fries, and proceeded to enjoy the water, read, rest, repeat scenario. There is a great sandy beach here and it is fairly shallow for a long distance out, with that wonderful deep blue color you just don’t see anywhere else. It just makes you sigh and know that when you are at home you will be dreaming of returning.

Amanda at La Ciotat beach

When we knew we had enough sun and surf and people watching, we emulated our amis and returned to our room to crank up the A/C. Took a little afternoon nap to refresh ourselves for dinner. Hotel Plage Saint Jean is not on the strip, but is in a nice area. It has an indoor pool and spa and is a very short walk to the rock beach. What it lacks in character it makes up in having modern amenities and cleanliness. It is definintely moderately priced and has parking!

In Le Ciotat, there is a very, very long beach-front drag taking you from where the sandy beach transitions to a rock beach down to the original port town where the fishing boats dock. This, we assumed, was where all the tourists ate. Hence, we set off to find a local’s hangout. Try as we did, even using our handy GPS, we struck out. Every entry led us back to the drag. Finally, we parked our car, which was a feat unto itself as there was a paucity of parking. However, the area we were headed to was a bit farther down than we thought, kind of like thinking the Rockies are close when you are in Hope, Colorado.

View of La Ciotat from near our restaurant

After a little hike, working up our appetite, we got to the port area. We had no idea which restaurant we wanted, and they are lined up one after another around the U-shaped port, all with tables spilling out onto the sidewalls and colorful umbrellas inviting you in. The menus are posted on large placards out in front and just make the decision harder. We pick one, I think because Beverly didn’t want to sit at the plastic chairs of the one next door. I mean, when you cannot pick a café that’s as good a reason as any. However, we peruse the menu, the waitress brings a carafe d’eau, but we can’t find anything we want. We leave. This is a recurring theme in our travels. We move along a couple of places down and choose another.

This one is a good choice. La Grotte. They are serving food and it makes our mouths water. Amanda and I choose the scallops and ravioli in, what else, a truffle cream sauce along with a toasted chevre salad. The B’s ordered some kind of sea bass and a seafood appetizer. We saw people getting pizza and it looked fantastic. Thin, crispy crust – just like I like it. Sitting outside under the umbrellas as the sun was getting lower, with the sea breeze gently blowing in from the Mediterranean, and enjoying a delectable meal. How divine. I thought we were full – at least I was. However, they had set up a small market of sorts lining the street outside the restaurants for the evening, and we were lazily strolling looking at the wares, when, lo and behold, there was an ice cream shop. I guess by now we were beyond resistance. Story over.

We took a circuitous walking route back though the alleys of the town, but finally hit the drag again and headed toward the car. On the way, we happened upon a little festival of sorts in a courtyard off the street with belly dancers for entertainment. Well, they were students of the art and a couple were fairly good. I am sure one was the teacher. But it was festive and fun. At the end they invited people up on stage and a couple of OLD men got up to dance with the young girls. Now that was entertainment.

La Cadiere d’Azur

Cassis Beach

Day two we headed out to take a drive along the coast south of us. There was no real coastal road to view the ocean, although we did see some exquisite countryside and a particularly lovely town called La Cadiere d’Azur. But lacking a good road to view the sea, we headed back north to Cassis. This is originally where I wanted to stay, but finding no rooms in our allotted price category, we ended up in La Ciotat. While La Ciotat has a great beach and the port area is nice, it is not as fetching as Cassis, so if you plan to come to this area book in advance. The town is built on a fairly sharp rise which, obviously, lends itself to a more picturesque setting, and it also has a nice sandy beach with a lot of activity. We didn’t stay here too long, but long enough for gelato! Maybe one day I’ll return for a beach holiday. It is really quite lovely and not as hectic as the beach towns around Nice.

Cassis in Town

It is time for the B’s afternoon siesta and Amanda and I for some more beach time. This time we use the hotel’s beach area which is solid rock. Not rocks like Nice, but solid rock. We find a little alcove, like a topless cave, and settle in. Speaking of topless, there are some sights to behold here. Some things you just don’t want to see. I mean I am of the opinion that just because they make it in your size doesn’t mean you should wear it and just because they make a bikini doesn’t mean you should either and just because it is a beach you don’t have to take it off…. But for some of you out there, there are definitely some sights you wouldn’t mind seeing. Amanda and I wonder that if there is so much skin to be seen all the time, doesn’t that take the mystery out of it. I mean, if you can see it anytime on the beach it is just not special anymore. Just an observation.

Beach at Hotel Plage St Jean

Looking up from our open-air grotto

Beach Hotel Plage St Jean

Mediterranean view from Hotel Plage St Jean

Sitting in our private alcove, we can see from the point south of La Ciotat across to the point of Port d’Alon and the expanse of crystal blue sea in between. We dream of boating from town to town along the coast and planning places we would like to see. We watch the clouds and the seagulls and the yachts, which is where we got the idea of boating. The afternoon passes quickly and we realize we are supposed to catch a boat at 5:30 and we have to find a parking place – and it is later than we thought.

BUT, we did it, parked and made the boat. This is for a ride through the calanques. I have been wanting to see them for years now. They are, for lack of a longer and more geological explanation, looking like mini fjords, but in warmer water. They are magnificent. We meet a Moroccan guy and his wife onboard. and Hakeem attaches himself to us and gives us tidbits of information, since we cannot understand the guide on the loudspeaker (French). He really likes us…. The water color in some of the calanques defies explanation, it actually glows. It makes you want to jump off the boat and relish in the sheer brilliance of it all. If I return, I will find a boat ride that allows you to do just that. Gary will love it! A thoroughly outstanding afternoon.  It was very hard to choose just a few pix from this calanques trip; it was so amazing.

The Amazing Water of the Calanques

Calanques 1Calanques 3

Calanques 2

After returning to the room to refresh for dinner, we find that the B’s have consumed a bottle of wine betwixt themselves before leaving, so they are a bit giddy. We are just walking from our hotel and have three choices of restaurants, but the decision still eludes us. Is it just us, or do other people have such a hard time choosing? We make our choice based on….was there a reason? Pizza. They have an outdoor brick pizza oven. That was it. It was good pizza – and Dizzy ordered herself and BS more wine. Ooops. They had already had enough and this was enough to tip the cart. Suffice it to say, you might be glad you weren’t at our table. We were loud Texans. I am glad I drink water, else who would record the evening for posterity. Did BS proposition the waiter? She did break her glass, but she breaks at least one every trip. It is a good story. We like good stories. I don’t write about the good stories here.

We make it through the evening unscathed, relatively. When we were back in our respective rooms I get calls from both B’s. They are amusing. If you ask, I just might tell.

Another segment of the trip over, except for a stop at the corner boulangerie for breakfast before heading to the Dordogne. The brioche was just okay, but the B’s got a sort of cream puff they say was heavenly, maybe better than Aix, but much smaller. As far as I am concerned, that is just hearsay.

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Recent Memories of Provence

Checking in again. I fear I am not good at making time for writing while traveling, not to mention working whilst traveling. I need to wrap up the week in Provence, having only reported on the first two days of the trip. Trying to “wrap up” writing about Provence is going to be difficult as I am going to write about four days in this short venue, so here goes….

Tuesday was a gorgeous day, big blue skies and quite warm weather, really a day to lay by the pool;

Now it’s sunflower fields forever

however, alas and alack, we had no pool. One of my traveling companions was eager to call home, so we drove over to Cavaillon to find an international phone shop. We had been here in the past and hoped it was still in business. As luck would have it, we found it rather easily, and headed back to Lourmarin, as it was too hot for a couple of my friends to weather (snigger, chortle, guffaw). I doubt they will be traveling in the summer anymore, anywhere. Even to see the sunflower fields, which cut wide swaths in the countryside. Too much a reminder of bright, sunny, hot days.

So my daughter and I headed out for Roussillon. This is unlike most of the other towns in the

Roussillon The Red

Luberon, which are basically cream-colored structures. It is located in the heart of one of the biggest ochre deposits in the world and is famous for its magnificent red cliffs and ochre quarries. The vivid blue of the Provençal sky and the exceptional quality of light make this a magical site. The ochre façades of the buildings are intense with shades varying from light yellow to dark red, set off by brightly-painted shutters and doors. It is a don’t miss village if you happen to be in the area. However, this particular day it was quite crowded, most probably lending to the pending holiday on the morrow, so we didn’t stick around long.

Back to Lourmarin and the sleeping beauties. Relaxed the rest of the afternoon away on the terrace overlooking our lovely courtyard. Please forgive me, but I failed to get the name of the establishment where we dined on one of the best pizzas ever. Maybe I’ll come across a picture and return to correct this text at a later date; however, it is in the center of Lourmarin and has a large terrasse for dining in the back, so shouldn’t be diffucult to find. I believe it is right next door to a gelato shop, which, I might add, is some of the best gelato you will find anywhere. The fraise yaourt is fantastic and the noix de coco et chocolat……….what can I say.

Ooolala – La Tropezienne – the King of Cream Puffs!

On to Wednesday and Aix-en-Provence. It was 14 Juillet, Bastille Day. Most things were closed and they

Bechard – Fabrique de Calissons – Aix en Provence

were gearing up for the night’s festivities; however, Bechard was not closed (12 cours Mirabeau). It is a fabulous, elegant patisserie, truly, with an amazing collection of mouth-watering choices. Everytime I am in Aix, this is the first place I go. It is like a Christmas dream: “visions of sugarplums danced in their heads.” I do have a favorite, which is the tropezienne (originated in St. Tropez). It is kind of like a cream puff on steroids made of brioche and, of course, cream. They make this in varying sizes. YUMMMMM. They also make my favorite calissons which are a, well not a cookie, but are an addicting almond…confection? And Aix is famous for them. Aix is great for shopping, but not today.

A little slice of Aix market

There was a street market in Aix and it was rich with the colors of summer gardens, pictures for your enjoyment below. So here is our weird French guy story. We were snapping pictures right and left, thoroughly enjoying the abundance and variety of this market when one of the vendors told us we couldn’t take pictures! HA! Of vegetables and fruit?! What? Some sort of trade secret? Designer green beans? He said we weren’t buying, so no pix. Whatever. So I meandered over to the fish market, looking for dinner that night. He actually came over to the the fish market and told them not to let me take pictures, imagine him waving his arms ranting about touristes… They looked at him like he was crazy and we smiled. They were then so nice, and after helping me pick out fish for dinner threw in a lot of shrimp for free. We asked about him and they said he was crazy, but they loved America! It was fun. Then we bought our veggies and walked by his stall with all our bags and smiled. I think he flipped us off afterwards. Armed with food for dinner and having eaten our cream puffs, we headed back for Lourmarin with visions of returning for more cream puffs still in our heads.

Didn’t quite get to make dinner, because we were missing items. However, we found the cutest restaurant

Sweet Restaurant under the stars

in town, down a tunnel falling into an open courtyard. Twinkling lights and discreet lamps, along with good Provencal fare and the occasional screaming from the street due to it being the last game of World Cup Soccer. In fact, our wait staff and some customers would run out when the screaming started to see what was happening. But back to the decor, there were candelabras, perfect green chairs with funky accents and color, even a mini laser light show with crystal chandeliers hanging off trellises of colorful flowers. A cacophony of styles and patterns playing well off one another. Simply perfect evening.

Thursday, it was hot and our friends were suffering so without good old American A/C and ice, so we headed for the beach for a little refreshment. Just picked a spot on the map and headed south to Sausset-les-Pins, only an hour or so drive. Got in fairly early and they had a market on the boardwalk, not the stimulating eye candy of Sorgue, but an enjoyable stroll along the boat docks. Picked up towels at the market for the beach and then realized there wasn’t really a beach there. So after a morning repast, we headed for Carry-le-Rouet, just a few minutes down the coast and a sweet drive, we landed at a sandy beach on the Mediterranean and rented some chairs and umbrellas. As you know, I love a beach day: Sparking Mediterranean water, read, water, read, etc. Headed back about 4:30 and cooked a fabulous meal of fish with white wine reduction cream sauce, fresh green beans a la Mari and my version of a Viennese potato au gratin, along with fresh tomatoes, olives and bread – all sitting on our courtyard terrace. Again, yummm. Wish I knew what kind of fish those guys sold me.

La Plage Carry le Rouet

He had fabulous stuff – would have bought more if only I had room…

Last full day here and it is Friday, and it is market day here in our little village. And what a market it is; I certainly didn’t expect the size of it. Markets are just quite heady for me. I continue to write about them, but I love them. Well, I like shopping in general, so it’s not a wonder that I like markets. I like the crowds, the colors, the smells, the entertainment and sensation of it all. There are many things to tempt one, but it is the food that pulls me in. If I don’t buy anything else, if the soaps don’t grab me, if I can’t find the right outfit, I will inevitably buy food – jelly, tapenade, patisserie – something yummy, and this time was no different. Let me just say, whatever kind of artisanal cheese that was (and I made of the mistake of not writing it down), I will go back just to buy it again.

There are so many things left out, but I will add links to pictures later to fill in some of the gaps.  Oh, but let me throw in a plug for La Cordiere, our studio apartment in Lourmarin. It is located in the village and is an excellent location in the Luberon. Francoise is quite fluent in English, and in French, Spanish and Italian at the least. She is quite nice and helpful. It is modest and our room was without A/C, but is priced well and clean. Ours was with a kitchen, but there are just rooms with breakfast, I believe, also.

Fav shop in Lourmarin village

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LAVENDER FIELDS FOREVER….

Le Cordiere – Our Gite in Lourmarin

Well, gentle readers, I have been to Provence in the spring, when the flowers were blooming and the Mistral swept down from the mountains cleansing everything in its path. Spring with bold blue skies and promise of newness in the air and I fell in love. Then I returned to see Provence in the Fall, still tasting the summer warmth in the air with the blazing colors of a bounteous harvest at the village markets and orchards redolent with apples. A collage of sight, smell and sound emblazoned in my memories. You don’t have to dig far in your imagination to know why artists and poets have been drawn to this little piece of God’s green earth.

Now I am here to tell you that the lavender fields of summer are amazing. Traveling along the winding

Lavender Fields In Provence

roads, up and down and to and from the perched villages, the fields are checkered with a vibrancy of purple that is mesmerizing. It was so mesmerizing, that amidst our photo shoots, we had to take a little lavender too. In fact, there was this one field that was so much more electric purple than all the others we had seen. The Bs and Amanda went to take pictures, but I was waiting in the car this time (after dozens of fields it was welcome to wait). I guess it was so tantalizing, just too much, that B2 just had to have some of this forbidden fruit. BUSTED. Just as they got to the car and threw the bouquet in the trunk, out of nowhere races this little white van and the farmer jumps out of it and runs to the car yelling “Vous me couper les lavande! Pourquoi?” Beverly tried to apologize and offered to pay, but he was way too mad for that. Oops….

Meanwhile, the other Beverly, BS, had hightailed it the opposite direction. Only when the coast was clear did we see her face and had to go down the road to pick her up. Those of you who know her will appreciate this part of the story! Wish that had been caught on film.

Blazing Lavender, AKA Forbidden Fruit

Speaking of markets, we had hit L’Isle sur La Sorgue the day previous to this. This has to be my favorite market of all, which is why this is my fourth trip here. It is situated up in a delightful town  right on the Sorgue River. There are cheeses that are lined up to be tasted and are scrumptious. I love that word and it is very appropriate here. There are lots of sacissons (sausages), many with the aroma of smelly feet. I typically don’t try these. But the best melons in the world are Cavaillon melons. They are similar to a cantaloupe but smaller and the flavor is much more intense. In 1864, the Cavaillon library asked writer Alexander Dumas to donate some 400 volumes of his work to the town. He complied on one condition — that he be given a dozen melons every year. Until his death in 1870, the author received his supply. So you know that must be good.

Sights at the Sorgue Market

The peaches are great, the strawberries, the watermelon. It’s all there amidst the locally-made soaps (especially love the lavender and almond), the bright Provencal fabrics and pottery. It snakes along the river and down into the winding streets of the town. There are singers on corners and vendors hawking their wares. It is a sensation! I didn’t make it to the antique stores this year, but they are only a street over and have wonderful finds, but not cheap ones.  I know when I am home I will wish I had insisted on going into at least one of them.

On our way back we took a couple of side trips.  One to the Gorges de la Nesque, which was quite stunning.  As far as the other, we were quite hungry, having basically missed lunch, so we saw a sign for fresh goat cheese and make a sharp right — just 2.5 km down the road.  Well, if you could call it a road, more than a well marked trail, that got worse.  That was a really slow 2.5 km.  The further back we got the more I could hear the theme from Deliverance reverberating in my brain.  Then Hotel California came on the radio.  This much I can say, we did survive and came out with some pretty good goat cheese.  The other thing I can say is, “Yes, hillbillies are alive and well in southern France.”

Gorges de la Nesque

Well, signing off for the night as we have an early day tomorrow. Enjoy!