France, Sept 2004

 

Left Houston at 6:40. Juan Cardenas drove us to the airport.

 

Djimmah in the House

 

Doreen in the House

Blaze in the House

 

Flight was largely uneventful. Bad movies (Troy, The Stepford Wives)

 

Doreen in the Airport

 

Self Portrait on the airplane

 

Arrived in Paris, flew through immigration and customs. A long walk to Terminal 2F, the local (ish) Air France terminal. Did not see collapsed walkway. (but we did see it when we returned from Nice)

 

A “serious” self portrait in Charles deGaulle airport

 

Flight to Nice was nice. Exit row. The only bummer was no window.

 

Car is a Renault Lacuna diesel. It has a smart card you insert into a slot and a pushbutton starter. Six speed.

 

Got lost almost immediately. Drove on tollroad (€4.47 or something weird.) about 50 km.

 

Got off tollroad and got lost many times. The drive was not particularly pretty, but was not that long, either. Should have made it in about an hour or so, it took two because we didn’t know where we were going. Traffic was not bad.

 

The Villa (less than 1 KM from one of the beaches where my father landed)

 

The villa is pleasant, but has an odd smell. It is right on the beach, and has a great pool. We swam in the pool the first day to help us stay awake. We also drove to the Casino, which is a supermarket. We bought provisions for the next day or two.

 

Self Portrait from the Villa’s balcony

 

The first day we were very sluggish, sleeping to 10:30 or so after a fitful night. We swam, and then walked to town to get a pizza. We then continued to walk all the way to the Boulouris town center, about 3 km. We saw some men playing boules (which is like bocce ball), and then saw a map with the information that there is a coastal walk right on the beach.

 

Boulouris Beach

 

We walked and walked ABOVE the beach in the city, before we found a path to the water.

 

Doreen on a Boulouris Beach

 

We then walked about 5 km back along the beach. It was very pretty, but strewn with boulders or little rocks. Sometimes there was sand, but usually not. It looks like a Riviere painting.

 

Self Portrait on a Boulouris Beach

 

We finally made it back, jumped in the pool and had treats for supper.

 

 

9-8-04

 

Today after a fitful night, we got up about 9:00 am. We had coffee and bad pain au chocolates in the villa, and then struck out for parts unknown. We wanted to do three things – go to the Picasso museum in Antibes, go to the Picasso Ceramic exhibit in Vallauris, and go to Grasse to see the smell museum.

 

Antibes Beach

 

We took off along the coast road. It is about 40 km to Cannes along this road, but it took about two hours. The traffic was sort of bad, but the road was VERY curvy and VERY steep in places. There are plenty of places that pedestrians cross the road, and there were plenty of bicycles on the road as well. I think that those guys are crazy! It was a very pretty drive (Plenty of scenic beauty) but very slow. In Cannes itself the traffic was very bad. But we got through that and headed to Antibes.

 

In Antibes, the traffic was bad again. Luckily, we were able to find a parking garage and dump the car. We wandered over to the tourist information center (They were sort of almost friendly) and got directions to the Picasso museum. Doreen had the name of a restaurant that she wanted to try that was very close to the Villa Grimaldi, where the museum was housed. It, of course, was closed on Wednesdays. We then wandered around a bit more (after confirming that the museum was open all afternoon) and found a café that looked good.

 

Self Portrait in Antibes

 

Before we stopped there, though, we checked out the open air market that was going on in town. They had Herbs d’Provence (Imagine that) flowers, sausages, meat, fish, and who knows what all. They were just shutting down, so we didn’t have much time to figure out if we wanted to buy anything. We also found store (That was open all afternoon) that sold real Fois Gras. After a sample, we promised to return.

 

Dan, happily drinking Pink Bandol Wine at the Art House

 

We then went back to the café, Art Home (le sens des aromes) and sat down for lunch. The little waiter guy (and very petit gay portugee) came by and asked us what we wanted to drink. His English was as bad as my French, so he told Doreen most of the selections.

 

Self Portrait at the Art House

 

We got a very nice Bandol rose (Rose wines are drunk a lot here) and ordered a Nicoise salad and a Duck salad. We shared that (the best part were the greens. Both the duck and the tuna were OK, but nothing to write home about, so I won’t) We both had fish (Cod). It was served with sautéed wild mushrooms, polenta (excellent) and more greens (who knows why) I capped mine off with a nice espresso, Doreen opted out of this.

 

View from the Art House

 

After lunch, we went to the museum. The house was quite spectacular, and they had some nice Picasso pieces as well. Ulysses and the Sirens was probably the best, and pretty much the only thing this museum is known for. But we were amused by some nice ceramic pieces, particularly ones with owls. There was also a photo of Picasso holding his pet owl in frond of one of these pieces. That was very nice to see.

 

After leaving the museum, we walked to the fois store to get something for supper. We bought some cassolet, some fois gras de canard, and some wine. One bottle of Bordeaux, one of Cotes du Rhone, and one Sauterne. The store keeper threw in a jar of Fleur du Sel, as well as a nice basket. I guess we paid too much.

 

Self Portrait in Antibes

 

View from the top of the Picasso Museum

 

Some Picasso ceramics (I was fussed at for taking this photo)

 

We then negotiated out of the car park, and found our way by fits and starts to Vallauris. That is where Picasso did most of his ceramics works, and the place where we have our posters from. The museum there was sort of pitiful, but it was nice to see the ceramics again. We wandered around the city, finding Madura, Picasso’s original gallery for his ceramic pieces. They had some very expensive pieces there, which we didn’t buy.

 

Man with Goat in Vallouris

 

Self Portrait with Man with Goat

 

Then we drove home, and again got lost.

 

 

9.9.04

 

Today we woke at about 8:30 after sleeping fitfully. We had croissants and pan au chocolate and got on the road about 10:00. Our plan was to go to Vence, St Paul de Vence, and then Grasse.

 

On the way to the A8 (tollroad) we only got lost once. That was a record. We got to the turn off for Vence, which was one earlier than we had thought. It also took us through Villeneuve Loubet, which was one of the cities my father talked about liberating during the war.

 

We found our slow way to Vence (The traffic was sort of bad) and then found a place to park and walked to find the Matisse chapel (It is actually the Rosary Chapel). It was, of course, closed until 2:00 PM, the tourist agent gleefully told us. (How do they get such folks to run these tourist information centers? They do exactly what you ask, and nothing more. Bastards) So we wandered around the old town, a medieval town turned into junk stores, until we could go and put more money in the parking meter (a virtual meter in this case).

 

Doreen and View in Vence

 

Vence

 

Cupola in Vence

 

We juiced up the parking to 8 hours, and then walked to find a place to eat. We found a place called The Templiers, named after the Knights Templier. SO we had something in common. We ordered another Rosé wine (I am starting to get very fond of them) and our meals – duck fois gras dusted with fleur du sel as a starter, I had Red Mullet on a pastis of Rutabega, and Doreen had veal kidney, sliced into rounds in a b brown sauce surrounding a mound of roughly mashed potatoes. Wonderful! We then had selection of local cheeses, followed by desert. We were both stuffed.

 

We then walked the short distance to the Matisse chapel and oohed and ahhed at the windows. It was very nice. Matisse had also designed vestments for the priests, and I tell you what, that was something to see.

 

So then we wandered back into town. Doreen had read that it was possible to walk from Vence to St Paul de Vence, even all the way to Nice. We didn’t really believe the Nice part, but the St Paul part seemed possible, even easy (It appeared to us to be all downhill. Our kind of walking) The first person we asked about walking made a face like “Are you crazy??!!!” and then told us that the bus takes you there in five minutes, but it would be at least a 45 minute walk. The second person said the same thing. So we went back to the tourist office. They helpfully told us about the walk (thinking that we would probably kill ourselves) and gave us a map. (The map, of course, only got us half way – the part of the walk that was in Vence. The part that was in St Paul de Vence was blank. I mean literally – a blank part of the map) She said it would take about 1hr 15 min, and the bus would take five minutes. I found it very hard to believe, so we decided to walk.

 

A long trail in Vence

 

Husbanding the water on the trail

 

We started down the path, with a full water bottle of Foux water (from the fountains at the Town Jardine or Town Square). The walk was very steep at first, leading downward. Doreen was afraid that we would have to walk up the same distance. I wasn’t sure. It was a nice walk, though. Through the trees, no bugs, temp in the mid 70s I would guess.

 

Looking back to Vence

 

Then we reached the bottom (“You will reach a footbridge over a watercourse. The path then rises steeply”). We had to look at the path going up. It was steep indeed! I had not done any hiking in many years. It was a good thing I wasn’t wearing my boat shoes. We walked and walked and walked up. We stopped several times to enjoy the waters of the Foux, but only sparingly. We did not know how long we would have to walk.

 

We finally got through the forest/park, and came to a paved road. This was better, but certainly more dangerous, as we now shared the road with crazy French drivers. But we made it safely into town. IT took about an hour

 

As luck would have it, the Foundation Maeght was on our route. We stopped in and saw a bunch of art.

 

Then we walked into the town of St Paul. It was YAMTSGGKTABA or Yet Another

Medieval Town Selling Gimcracks, Geegaws, Tchotches, And Bad Art. We took the bus back to Vence. It took about 5 minutes.

 

The Colombe d’or in St Paul de Vence

 

St Paul de Vence

 

 

We then drove back to the Villa, no wrong turns. It was a miracle.

 

 

9.10.04

 

We got out and on the road latish today – about 11:00. We drove over the mountains and through the woods to Grasse. It was an interesting drive – there were shear drop offs of about 2,000m on either side of the road. And no barriers! Just an occasional wooden pole painted white. I would hate to have to drive that road at night. There was not much traffic (there are other safer and faster routes.) so we didn’t have to worry too much about smacking head on into a bus traveling around a blind curve, but it was sort of scary none the less.

 

Grasse

 

We made it to Grasse in about hour and a half. We parked and wandered about the town. We took the tour of the Frangonard factory. It was fun to see how they make perfume, and then we wandered about town. It is well on its way of St Paulification, but it was not there yet. This is what a medieval town looks like before the tourist traps and geegaw shops take over.

 

Self Portrait in Grasse

 

We had a nice simple lunch – I had Pork Provencal – pork in a tomato sauce, and Doreen had Steak Frites. Good frites! We had rose wine again, and it was not so good. But at least it was cheap!

 

Small Streets in Grasse. I imagine that this is what my father saw while here during the war

 

More Grasse

 

More Grase

 

More old Grasse

 

Then we wandered about town some more, and drove back. A nice quiet day.

 

9.11.04

 

Today we remembered the tragedy of 9/11/01. We noted that we have not seen a newspaper or watched a TV broadcast since we left the US. IT has been a news-free vacation. But our memories are with the victims and their families.

 

We walked down to beach about 1 km from our villa. We saw earlier what looked like a monument to the Allied landings here in 1944. When we got to the beach (Which has been named the “Beach of debarkment of 15 August 1944) we saw two huge pillars, one marked “1944” and the other “2004”. Obviously we just missed a ceremony celebrating the invasion. They also have a small landing craft, with a plaque to its commander. Another plaque commemorates the invasion of the 36^th infantry of the 7^th army. The naval part of the invasion was commanded by Adm Hewitt. My father took part in this “debarquement”

 

Landing Craft

 

Monument

 

I remember as a child being told of the invasions on Southern France, which happened during August, as one of the big meteor showers was at its peak. My father told of a naval commander who didn’t soften up the beach enough with his guns, and then dumped the troops too far in the water. They made it ashore, however, and also took the landing sit. This is that landing site.

 

Beach Stones

 

Beach

 

There is no remnant of any beach defenses remaining, but I am sure that they were here. The beach is rocky, with large, loaf size rocks loose all over the beach. It is hard to walk the beach without the threat of a turned ankle. I cannot imagine attacking the beach with a full pack, armed, at night. It must have been tough.

 

Invasion Beach

 

The flat part of the beach is about 100 yards, followed by a steep but short bluff of about 20’. The road is on top of the beach. Cannes is about 40 km to the east, and St Tropez about 30 km to the west. The beach is in Boulouirs, and the villa where we are staying was undoubtedly here when the invasion occurred.

 

It was an interesting morning as we talked about what the soldiers had to go through to defeat the Germans. And now there are German tourists alongside a few American and mostly French sunbathers are ocean frolicers. It is interesting.

 

Invasion beach with German Tourists

 

After we left the beach, we drove into Frejus to see the ancient Roman ruins. There is an aqueduct, a theater, and an arena. All the ruins are, well ruins. The aqueduct columns were pretty cool, though, as you can see the path they took through town. The arena is still used for bullfights (Non-fatal bullfights we understand, where the gal is to pluck a flower from between the bull’s horns) but is small an in pretty bad repair. We got to the arena about 1:00, and it was closed until 1:30. We had a nice lunch of smashed lightly breaded fowl at The Farigoule, Nothing to write home about, but it gave us someplace in the shade to wait while the arena was closed.

 

Waiting for Lunch in Frejus

 

Frejus Arena

 

We had walked through the center of old Frejus earlier, and there was a street fair going on. It was closing (every time we come across one of these street markets, they are closing) They had some Provencal spices, fabrics, pots, all the usually junk. They had some cool “Picasso” t-shirts (you know, the broad horizontal stripes) but they were all junk. We finally bought some cheese and sausage for supper. The woman tried to sell us donkey sausage, but we refrained.

 

Roman Ruins in Frejus

 

Frejust Information particularly unfriendly, AND we got kicked out of the first place we tried to eat. I think that they are trying to get us ready for Paris.

 

As we were walking around the old town of Frejus, where the roads are very narrow and twisted, we noticed a truck stopped with its flashers on. Because the roads as so narrow, traffic was well backed up behind him. People were waiting with patience. It looked like a delivery truck and as we figured they were delivering something to a local store. As we passed by, however (we were on foot) it was apparent that the driver was waiting to take cash out of a cash machine. Nobody seems to be in much of a hurry to do anything around Frejus!

 

Roman Detritus in Frejus

 

Old Church in Frejus

 

Then we drove home.

 

Doreen and Rental Car (A Renault Lacuna)

 

9.12.04

 

Today we finally met Les Verts. They bought this Villa in 1947 – a bomb had gone THROUGH the house and not exploded! The owner was a doctor, and couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Madam Vert’s father was an architect, and he bought it and fixed it up. Amazing!

 

 

 

9.17.04

 

I have been working the last four days, Doreen has been enjoying the good life in Paris. The weather has been great, with occasional showers.

 

Today is our third anniversary. We had hoped to get a reservation at the Tour d’Argent, but they were full. We found out about a restaurant based on a review left here in the apartment. It is called the Attic of Jason Robards. Actually it is called L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon. (You can find the review we saw here: www.patriciawells.com )

 

Before dinner, however, we had a full day. We took the metro to close to the Eiffel Tower, and walked past the Champ de Mars. We then went to Les Invalides. We saw Napoleon’s tomb, and went into the Musee de l’Armée. We saw Napoleon’s horse, and plenty of uniforms from real generals (Ney and Oudinot, for example). We also saw the museum of Plan Relief. Little mock ups of various cities (eg Antibes) and castles and fortresses (Mont St Michel). Then we walked across the Pont Alexander, and walked to the Tuilierries and had lunch. Ham Sandwiches and pink wine. Then we walked to the Louvre de Geegaws and walked back through the Louvre, and walked across the Pont des Arts and had a romantic kiss. Then we walked to the Mephisto store, but nothing fit. Then we walked home to take a nap.

 

Self Portrait near Eiffel Tower

 

Napoleon’s Tomb

 

Napoleon’s Horse “Vizier” Stuffed

 

We had dinner reservations at L’Atelier very early – first seating – 6:30. They had just opened when we walked in. The place is very PoMo. Black and red are the colors, and you sit as if at a sushi bar. You face the wait staff and the cooks, with everyone in full view. A nice young woman with very tight clothes on took us to our seats (not the dreaded “Look to the wall” seats, but ones that looked at the cooking area) and we were seated at the high bar. IT was surprisingly comfortable, and nice. The waiter came over (with his helper) and asked us if we wanted anything to drink. We replied (in French) that a Coup de Champaign would be nice. That was about as far as I got in French. The waiter was very nice (and funny) and said that he would have to charge us €5 for the English translation. We laughed. He brought us our drinks and then handed us our menus.

 

They had a tasting menu for the evening that was comprised of nice items (you pick an entrée). There was a beautiful menu of other items ranging from steak tartar to deep fried whiting. (Why does that make me think of Lewis Carol?). Wonderful appetizers and many other delights. We couldn’t make up our mind, of course, so we chose the tasting menu.

 

We told the waiter, and asked for a wine suggestion. He said that he would recommend two different whites and a red to finish off the meal. I am usually hesitant to order wine by the glass, but we were willing to put ourselves in his hands. He took the order and we were off.

 

As we waited, another couple was seated nearby. He was Australian, she was British. They were in a hurry (and so this seemed like a funny place for them to chose) They ordered the same thing we did, and stated with drinks – he had a gin and tonic, but she had a Coup. We had no interaction with these folks. Moments later, four Japanese people, who all spoke fluent French, were seated at our immediate left. It looked as if they had been here before. They ordered champagne, and started with Tapas. (Various small dishes)

 

We still had a bit of champagne left as our first food came. It was an L’amuse Bouche (or something to amuse your mouth) in the form of a cold tomato gazpacho with a touch of olive oil and a tiny basil leaf on top. The gazpacho here is pureed rather than chopped, so it was a smooth soup. It was served in a clear shot glass, and was it ever amusing! I could have had a gallon of it and still wanted more. The taste of the tomatoes was prominent, of course, followed by supper vegetables and the tiny basil leaf. A wonderful refreshing taste. We would have licked the glass if that wasn’t so gauche (we were on the Rive Gauche)

 

Our first wine showed up. A nice, dry Chardonnay from Macon. Something like I would have at home. It was generously poured, and the waiter said that he personally tasted all the bottles that he poured from. We were happy about that, and so was he!.

 

The second dish was a Langostine Carpachio. Langostine is a salt water crawfish that you see here a lot. Carpachio means that it was raw. They had sliced it real thing and put it is a slight sauce of olive oil and pink peppercorns. Again, you would have been happy to have twice (or four times!) as much. It was a great way to gently get into the meal.

 

Now a strange couple was seated a bit to our right. He was an older American, I think he was an actor, wearing a baseball cap (which he didn’t take off the whole dinner!), a t-shirt, and an orange vest. She was a Japanese woman, who spoke very good English, I guess about 50 years old. It was a date. He said things like “No, I am not drinking yet. It just makes me feel great that I have found you.” And “I can’t believe that our values as so similar!” I think that they had the tasting menu, too.

 

Immediately to our right was seated a French couple. We ended up talking to them quite a bit before the night was over. He was from Guadeloupe and is a Major in the army. She grew up in Brittany and lives in Versailles. She didn’t speak much English, so we don’t know about her. His father was in the military and now he is, too.

 

The next bit of food that showed up was fried Rogout, or Red Mullet (I had some of this in Vence) with bitter greens. This was amazingly flavorful and tender. It was fried just so, and the greens added a nice bitterness to the fish. We finished our first glass of wine.

 

Our second glass of wine came. Another Chardonnay, this time from Burgundy. Softer than the first, but still chalky dry. With this wine came our next dish: Clams with purple garlic and butter, sprinkled with fresh parsley. Soft and tasty, you know that there poor little guys were alive just moments before. We used some of our bread to wipe their shells clean of the garlic butter. They were served on a bed of sea salt.

 

The French couple next to us had ordered off the menu, and by this time they were eating their main course. He was the steak tartar, and she had the deep fried whiting (a la Lewis Carol) alluded to earlier. The tartar come with home made French Fries, the whiting with home made mayonnaise. We could see the sous chef making the mayonnaise in the back. Did she work hard! And she did it with only a fork, not even a whisk! IT sure looked good. We were lusting after the tartar.

 

About this time the General Manager came by to say hello. He was Turkish, and had worked with Robuchon for many years. He was very funny. When we told him what a great time we were having, and how good his staff was (especially considering some of the things that had happened to Doreen during this trip) he said: “We are all like this - - - - In Turkey” and laughed. We laughed. He came by with some samples of some fried bread for us to try. We all took a roll and it was buttery and great.

 

He had seen us looking at the steak tartar, and came out a few minutes later with a plate of French fries for us. He said: “I saw you looking at those fries, and wanted you to have some.” Little did he know we wanted the raw beef! But the fries were great. Almost as good a Doreen’s home fries. A real treat.

 

Then the most amazing dish of all came. It was served in a Martini glass, and it was a layer of red pepper jelly on the bottom, followed by a fennel foam, and topped with lump crab meat (“Sea crab” we were told). The play of flavors was great as you dug down into the glass. It was beautiful with the red jelly, the white foam, and then the lump crab on top.

 

The last appetizer as duck fois gras. Simply prepared, we ate it with gusto. Nothing like fois when in France.

 

We had by now finished our second glass of wine. The waited came over to ask what we would like for the last glass. We suggested a Cote du Rhone, and he obliged. He said it was just a “standard” Cote du Rhone, but it went great with the main course.

 

The main course was quail that had been crisped on the outside, but was still sweet and juicy on the inside. It was served with truffled mashed potatoes and dried mushrooms. The dried mushrooms were the only thing that was less than spectacular. We ate them (of course!) but were happy when they were gone. The mashed potatoes were tasty, and if you didn’t like this quail, you just don’t like to eat. We were too polite to such the meat off the bones, but we saw others doing so. And then we wished that we had, too!

 

During the meal we had told the waited that it was our anniversary. He thought that was great, and we told some stories about 9/11. He then told us that he may be moving to Las Vegas to work in the restaurant that Robuchon is opening there. We encouraged him.

 

The first desert was a cream of some Japanese fruit called Yuku or something equally foolish. It was covered with some raspberries, and there was a thin sheaf of caramelized sugar on top of the glass. Nice. The second desert was white peaches with red fruits. Again, very, very nice.

 

We were asked if we wanted coffee, and we replied of course. As we were waiting, I also asked for a glass of Armagnac. Before the drinks came, however, they brought us a fruit tart with a candle and lettering that said Happy Anniversary (in French, of course). We were VERY surprised. It was trés jolée. Great. Then the coffee and the drink came (a good healthy slug) we were talking quite a bit with the French couple next to us, and the wait staff and management were all quite engaging as well. We were reluctant, and yet oddly ready to leave. I called for the bill, and noticed that the Armagnac was not on it. I called over the waiter, and he said not to worry about it. That drink was on him.

 

It may have been our best meal ever. We left satisfied, yet wanted to go back and start the whole evening over again.

 

9.18.04

 

Today was another walking day. We got up relatively early and headed to the big Marche aux Puce in Clingacort. It is the one we got to, and it is HUGE. There is no way that we can possibly see more than about 10% of the shops before Puce Fever sets in. We sat on the Metro a good long time to get up there, and then, of course, got lost as we walked to the Marches. There are hundreds of shops, and hundreds of street vendors before you get there. It is like running a gauntlet.

 

Andirons

 

Pots

 

Our Pitchers

 

But we finally found the shops, and walked through about a million of them. You will have to talk Doreen into writing about them, as I get tired just thinking about it. We did but some old pitchers, one from Valouris and one from Provence, similar to the one that our cat Djimmah knocked over and broke about three years ago. We will se how she adapts to these.

 

Empty Oufs Buckets

 

Self Portrait near Notre Dame

 

Then we went and had lunch at the Fous d’en Face

 

Then we came home.

 

Self Portrait on Continental Flight 11 from Paris to Houston