This French holiday has been quite unique with stunning views at all of our stays. From Les Montagnes des Étoiles (the Mountain Range of the Stars) above Marseille in charming Allauch, to two mountain ranges (one on each side) in beautiful Valence, to a distant sea and Nice City view from Cimiez (where Henri Matisse lived) and finally, to l’Hotel Le Saint Paul just past the port on the shimmering waterfront. I collected unusual stones on the beach then swam one afternoon in the Mediterranean. The water’s so salty it helped hold me up as I floated on gentle rolling waves.
Beside the breathtaking views we enjoyed, the “Je ne sais quoi” of Provence provided inspiring aesthetics I love. Perched villages, alleys, windows, doorways, ancient houses with iron gates under a sunny cobalt blue sky. Wherever I look, I am thrilled by vivid colors, designs, and textures. I take umpteen photos and sketch the scenes I’m eager to paint en plein air if I can—in the open air on location in the French Impressionist tradition.
While in Nice we dined on local specialties in the Old Town at our favorite spot. René Socca serves socca, chick pea flat bread, made with olive oil, chick pea flour, salt, pepper and water, mixed, soaked, then roasted in a very hot oven. Stuffed vegetables, pissaladière (an onion pizza) and tartin aux courgettes (zucchini tart) added to our nice Nice feast. We toasted with beer from a local brewery and apple cider made in Brittany.
Our final night, we found another budget-friendly hidden gem where grilled meat is served on a wooden plank with vegetables, rice, and crispy fries. The lamb was succulent, chicken, moist, and beef meatballs very flavorful. The Turkish restaurant came highly recommended by a kind couple who escorted us there. I told our host my father was born in Smyrna (Izmir) when his father served there as American Consul General. He confided he hailed from Tunisia. “Chokron, thank you,” I said in Arabic, his native tongue.
Everywhere we’ve been, people have been courteous and gone out of their way to help us. I’ve especially enjoyed seeing and experiencing the multicultural
enrichment of French culture, adding diversity and warmth that we also enjoy at home thanks to our wealth of immigrants. Watching French and immigrant mothers cuddle their children and fathers take pride in their offspring of all ages fills me with joy and encouragement for the future of us all, no matter where we are.
I’d expected to have more political conversations with our election looming ahead, but the French are too polite to assume or interject their opinions on us. What they do, however, is discuss our nation’s (and hence, the world’s) future in political round tables on serious television networks. The commentators are astounded and perplexed that the world’s most powerful nation would have a presidential candidate who demeans America through his use of vulgar and inappropriate language.
“Why? To what purpose?” they ask.
The other point that greatly concerns them is if Trump were to be elected, it would be the last obstacle to an extremist authoritarian right wing sweep across Europe which would cause panic and fear. If we abandon the cause of freedom and succumb to a dictatorship, it would leave Europe vulnerable to Putin. They speak of this with bated breath among themselves in the European Council. “Believe what he says and what he has written. It’s the plan of a dictator. We have seen this before.”
Pouring rain accompanied our flight as we left the Land of Gaul, reminding me of a poem by France’s 19th Century Symbolist Paul Verlaine.
“Il pleure dans mon coeur
Comme il pleut sur la ville ;
Quelle est cette langueur
Qui pénètre mon coeur?”
(It rains in the city like it rains in my heart. What is this langour that penetrates my heart?)
Our son Dan picked us up and we spent the night with him and his family, just in time for their Halloween party. Then onward to Vermont just in time for a light snowfall overnight. Duane and I awoke to a winter wonderland in our beloved Killington.
Marguerite Jill Dye is an artist and writer who divides her time between Killington and Bradenton, Florida where she exhibits her art in The Spa at the Woods and The Island Crêperie which was in the path of Hurricanes Helene and Milton. She loves to hear from her readers at jilldyestudio@aol.com. Her column is online with updates from France until the end of October.
