Le Quatorze Juillet

July 15, 2009 11:37 am
Moules Frites en Centre-ville

Moules Frites en Centre-ville

One of my favorite things about living in Provence is the social life that takes place outdoors. Whether it’s celebrating holidays, dining, or picnicking, it’s so pleasurable to sit in warm air with friends, often under the canopy of giant plane trees or in pine forests, and to eat fabulous food. For this year’s Bastille Day, our village offered Moules Frites with a cabaret. Our French friends told us the moules (mussels) had a “Sailor Sauce” (haha!) – that is, “Mariner,” which consisted of mustard, cream, and Provencal herbs. We sat at long tables set up in centre-ville and servers brought large trays filled with the steaming hot mussels. As we finished eat tray, the server set down another one. The moules were delicious, especially with the frites (how and why did Americans ever start calling them French Fries?), and so was soaking up the sauce with bits of baquette, and washing it all down with vin rouge or chilled rosé. The meal concluded with a cheese course, then ice cream. Parfait.

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Les Coquelicots … and Remembrance

June 1, 2009 11:31 am

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Flanders Poppies Field

I’ve thought a lot about my negative experience of religious paintings in Valencia since writing my last post. I’ve been feeling uncomfortable about feeling uncomfortable viewing crucifixion scene after crucifixion scene. I’m clear in my belief that I can’t and don’t want to associate that type of imagery with any notion of “spirituality.” However, I have been wondering lately about just what “spirituality” does mean to me.

Then I came upon this magnificent field of coquelicots, the beautiful brilliant red wild poppies with jet black centers in bloom here everywhere at the moment. I had a sort of gentle epiphany. As I stood awestruck before that field, I realized that Nature is the temple I choose to worship in. When in the presence of such natural beauty I can’t help but feel a mixture of reverence, wonder, and an almost delirious joy  –  the proverbial “religious experience.”

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Checking Out the Graffiti in Valencia, Spain

April 27, 2009 9:50 pm
Valencia GraffitiI love when Kevin has a conference in a city where I’ve never been. While he attends the conference during the day, I am on my own to do as I please, and at night we rejoin and make Grand Gastronomical Tours. You don’t have to travel far in Europe before you cross a border into an entirely new culture, with its own language, architecture, and cuisine. Even the people look different. From where we live in the south of France, it is a mere three hours’ drive east to Italy or a three hours’ drive west to Spain.

Last week, we drove seven hours to Valencia. The weather was gorgeous and so was this city. One of the first things I did on my own was walk to the Museo de Bellas Artes, whose collection of mostly 15th to 17th century paintings is regarded in Spain as second in importance only to the Prado. I was there about 15 seconds before I re-experienced the feeling I had during a 2 month solo trip  through Spain in 1996. After visiting a series of museums on that trip, I felt I’d die of boredom if I had to look at another painting of the Madonna and Child. This time, it was painting after painting of the crucifixion. All I could think of was George Carlin saying that he wouldn’t want to belong to a religion whose symbol was of a skinny white guy nailed to a cross. Definitely not my notion of “spirituality,” either! 95% of the paintings there were of a religious theme (mostly some form of torture and lots of blood), about 3% were battle scenes (more blood), 1.95% were portraits of the nobility (all of whom looked like really fun and groovy people), and .05% were still lifes. Enough already …

Wandering around and around Valencia for the next 6 days, I noticed lots of interesting graffiti, or were they murals? Hmmm … there’s a bit of a fine line there. Most of the art was placed on derelict buildings, around construction sites, or painted on businesses’ roll-up metal security doors, rather than defacing anything beautiful, and captivated me much more than the Old Masters at the Bellas Artes did … Click on the senorita with the castanets to see the graffiti album.

Ruth

Our Month in the U.S. of A.

March 2, 2009 9:34 pm

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No, pas possible! Today is March 2nd and I am only now adding a post about our trip to America. For shame!

We arrived in Gig Harbor, Washington on Christmas Eve and we flew back to France from San Francisco on Inauguration Day – Gobama! And now, about a mere forty days later, I’m finally sitting down to write a post about the trip. (Keeping up with one’s blog isn’t as easy as I thought!) Before any more time passes, I want to thank all our friends and family who took such good care of us.

We were very fortunate indeed to spend Christmas with Mom and Dadums at their home in Gig Harbor. My son Jake flew up from San Francisco to join us and my sister, Susan, and husband Tom and nephews Danny and Billy (who live nearby) were there as well. We were also there to celebrate Billy’s 18th birthday on December 28th. He invited about 40 of his closest friends over, dug a pit in the backyard, and BBQed a whole lamb Argentinian-style on a home-made vertical metal structure. And it worked – deliciously!

On December 30th, we reluctantly said good-bye and flew to San Francisco. We rented a really ugly big American car, and drove to Carmel Valley to stay with dear friend, Lynne. The next day, Kevin and I experienced our best New Year’s Eve ever. What a party! We caught up with old friends Doris and Hu, Donna and Scot, Mary and Gregg, Mark and Elaine, Marv and Wanda, and made new friends as well – Robin and John. It was a perfect gathering of people, with yet another great meal, and hours and hours of crippling dancing. And an after-party the next day. Perfect …

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Quick Trip to Scotland

November 5, 2008 7:59 pm

Cows watching KevinKevin’s expert computer eye spotted a cheap RyanAir flight to Edinburgh recently, so we decided to take advantage of the opportunity to visit our dear friends, Mike and Christina. We last saw Mike, Kevin’s godfather, and his Danish-born wife, Christina, in June at Henley, where they had urged us to come spend some time with them at their home in Scotland. We could only spare a long weekend but – hey – why not?

It was Kevin’s second and my first visit to Scotland, a[nother] country I have always wanted to see. We arrived in Edinburgh Friday night and took the two hour train ride to Stonehaven, just below Aberdeen on the east coast. Unfortunately, it was too dark to really see anything, but Mike picked us up at the station and drove us back to their beautiful cozy cottage and converted barn, and he and Christina fed us a hearty meal. When we woke Saturday morning, the view from our bedroom window was just what I imagined Scotland would look like. We were nestled in low rolling lime-green hills filled with heather and grazing cows and in the near distance we could see the North Sea. It was all sort of wild and wind-swept looking. Beautiful.

After a brisk walk through the surrounding countryside, we drove to Stonehaven where we visited our first pub and dined on fish and chips. From there, we visited a local castle, and then another pub. And thus the theme was set: we seemed to spend most of our time eating great food, drinking pints, checking out gorgeous scenery, and having a wonderful time just hanging our with our hosts. On Sunday, Christina, an expert horsewoman, even gave us riding lessons on her horse, Fred. Their menagerie also includes the hard-of-hearing but still frisky old pup, Sascha, and their black kitty, Nelson.

Monday, we took a very scenic day-time train back to Edinburgh where we had several hours to kill before catching our flight back to Marseilles. Edinburgh seems spectacular, but it will take another visit to really explore it well. Meanwhile, check out a few of our photos.

Thank you Mike and Christina for a wonderful visit. Much love,

Ruth

Visit to Trento, Italy, and the Dolomites

August 11, 2008 6:11 pm

Lake GardaItaly … sigh. Last week, Kevin and I drove to Trento for a short stay. Trento is about 70 miles northwest of Venice, situated in a glacial valley surrounded by the extremely tall sheer foothills of the Alps known as the Dolomites. The town is beautiful, with well-preserved Renaissance buildings, piazzas, and loads of cafes, restaurants, and bars with al fresco seating. And, I am happy to report, it was not mobbed with tourists, even at the height of the European holiday season – August.

It is only a short drive from Trento to the surrounding Dolomites, but the architecture completely changes from Italian to Alpine. All the signs are in Italian and German. We learned that after WW1, the border in this region shifted from Austria to Italy. I have the impression that boundaries all around here have shifted enormously over time. But whichever country claims the region, it is very alpine in nature, with rough jagged peaks reached by a network of ski gondolas, and there are hiking trails galore. Thanks to our lack of reading prior to the trip, however, we were not well-prepared for what the mountains had to offer. Without our hiking boots, backpacks, and water bottles, we could not just wander off onto the trails. What a pity. We had to content ourselves with strolling along the shores of some of the numerous beautiful turquoise lakes. At one lake in the alpine village of Molveno, we watched a demonstration of rescue dogs saving “drowners”. The dogs were having the time of their lives.

Speaking of lakes, we drove home by way of Lake Garda. When we came around a bend overlooking the lake, the view was so beautiful it felt surreal. I realized from scrutinizing the map that legendary Lake Como is between us here in Provence and Trento. I have promised myself to return next month for a visit to Lake Como, as well as for lots of hiking in the Dolomites. I had no idea of the treasures lying in wait in northern Italy – so accessible from where we live in the south of France!

Oh, and one more thing. While eating breakfast at our hotel, I saw a man whom I thought looked remarkably like Michael Palin. When I realized it was him, I must’ve made quite a face. He looked right at me, reflecting my wide-eyed shock of recognition. It cracked me up! I went over to tell him how great I think he is and he was really wonderful. He told me that each of the many travel shows he does is followed by a book of photographs, and that all the printing has been done in Trento. He and his photographer were there this time to work on their next project – a “best of” book of photos from all the shows. He started doing travelogues in 1980. 28 years ago? Impossible …

I’ve put up just a few shots myself in Photos.

Ruth

Summertime Provencal Produce

July 19, 2008 11:32 am

IMG_8783.JPGWe are deep into summertime here in Provence and enjoying the fruits – and the vegetables – of the local farmers’ labors. Each season has its produce charms but those of summer are incomparable. Tomatoes, especially, are in abundant variety. Some are best for making sauces, others for stuffing, and others just for eating as is. Drizzle the tomato slices with local olive oil, add a dash of red wine vinegar, and sprinkle with fresh ground pepper and Fleur de Sel (“flower of salt” in French, a sea salt) – et voila! Don’t forget to garnish with fresh parsley and basil from the kitchen windowsill pots.

Our favorite local market is close by at Villeneuve-lès-Avignon, a beautiful old village dominated by the 14th century hilltop Fort Sainte André. The village is on the Rhone, directly across the river from Avignon. All the outdoor markets are busier – thanks to tourists – during the summer, but this one never seems to get too overwhelmed. Every Thursday morning, Kevin and I arrive intending to buy just what we need for the week, but we always go berserk. We can’t help it. It reminds me of what Oscar Wilde once said: “I can resist anything except temptation.”

IMG_8787.JPGAs I was trying to stuff our purchases into the refrigerator (not the tomatoes, thank you), I counted fourteen different fruits. Fourteen! Okay, I admit to including lemons and limes on that list, as well as some non-local fruits such as bananas, pineapple, grapefruit, oranges, and some outrageous Bramley apples we brought back from England, but herewith the local fruits: raspberries, tiny plums, red currants, peaches, figs, cherries, and apricots. Yesterday, I removed by hand the stones from a kilo of cherries and made chilled cherry soup. Quite tasty …

Ruth

The Henley Royal Regatta, 2008

July 13, 2008 10:25 pm

End of a Fours' RaceKevin and I returned last week from England where we attended the first three days of the five day Henley Royal Regatta. The HRR is a rowing event held every year since 1839 on the River Thames by the gorgeous village, Henley-on-Thames. Races take place over a course of 1 mile, 550 yards, and end just short of the Henley Bridge.

There are many areas from where one can view the races along the river, but the prime real estate is in the Stewards’ Enclosure adjacent to the last part of the course and the finish line. Because Kevin is a member of the Staple Gunned?Stewards’ Enclosure, that is from where we view the proceedings. This was our sixth year in a row together, and who knows how many times Kevin has been sans moi. He said his first visit was sometime in the 70’s, and he has been almost every year since the early 1980’s. We have a reunion there every year with Kevin’s superb godfather, Michael, and his adorable Danish wife, Christina. Also joining our group for the third year in a row is Dom & Hilary, our friends from San Francisco (by way of Wales for Dom) who now live in Zurich with “the cutest baby in the world” – Bryn. Michael, also a member of the Stewards’ Enclosure, attended his first HRH in the 1940’s.

The weather was lovely this year. It only rained two of the three days, but I didn’t have to wear my Wellington’s even once. I certainly couldn’t say that about the previous five years, where at times I had to tromp through mud and wrap myself in a blanket to keep from freezing to death.

School JacketsI must confess, I didn’t see much of the races this year. It’s always more of a fun peacock parade for me, with the men just as showy as the women, especially in the Stewards’ Enclosure. It’s known for strict enforcement of its dress code. Men are required to wear a “lounge suit, blazer and flannels, or evening dress, and a tie”. Women are required to wear a dress or skirt that covers their knees, and are “strongly encouraged to wear a hat”. Anyone not suitably dressed can be refused entry, no matter their prestige in rowing or elsewhere. The fashion police are everywhere there, looking for those knobby knees …

Check out Photos for some good hats and old school jackets!

Ruth

Diane MacEachern’s BIG GREEN PURSE

May 30, 2008 8:51 pm

Diane MacEachern is someone who really “puts her money where her mouth is.”

Her new book Big Green Purse: Use Your Spending Power to Create a Cleaner, Greener World is a clarion call to consumers to exert the “power of the purse” and send the only message the marketplace appears to understand: consumers are getting smarter and better informed, and want to spend their money on products that can help sustain, rather than destroy, the planet.

So what if corporate mentality can’t conceive of “green” being anything other than the color of money? If enough consumers – most of whom, let’s face it, are women – send the marketplace the message that we will no longer purchase unsafe and polluting products in wasteful packaging, the marketplace will respond.

Diane’s book offers a wealth of information on products we all use every day, and lots of that information is quite alarming. Did you know, for example, that the Federal Drug Administration has evaluated the safety of only 11% of the 10,500 chemical ingredients used in lipstick, nail polish, hair coloring, soap, and other personal-care products? That means that 89% of those chemicals we bathe with, slather on our bodies, and make-up our faces with every day have not been evaluated for safety. Nor, as Diane points out, is it known what the cumulative exposure to chemicals linked to specific health concerns can be. According to the FDA’s Office of Cosmetics and Colors, which “oversees” the industry, “a cosmetic manufacturer may use almost any raw material as a cosmetic ingredient and market the product without an approval from the FDA.” Who exactly does the FDA exist to protect anyway: people or industries?

The beauty of the book is that is not just a litany of frightening statistics – far from it. It is also brimming with advice and resources on where to purchase greener and safer cosmetics, cars, food, household cleansers, clothing, garden products, electronics, furniture, kids’ stuff, and more. Enough information, in short, to empower us to change the way we live.

The marketplace will always sell what brings it the most “green,” but if we demand less polluting and safer products, well, we the people will have taken responsibility for doing something ourselves to create a “cleaner, greener world.” Hey, it’s not like we can wait for Congress to take action ..

Ruth

Oldest Known Bust of Caesar Found in Provence

May 16, 2008 4:10 pm

Oldest Caesar Bust FoundBritish daily The Guardian reported 15 May: “He was a military leader turned dictator who had such a complex about his receding hairline that he perfected the Roman comb-over and liked laurel crowns that disguised his bald patch.

In flattering posthumous portraits Julius Caesar was often portrayed as a dashing, healthy-haired, divine being. But now a realistic marble bust believed to be the oldest representation taken during his lifetime has been discovered at the bottom of the river Rhone in France.

The life-sized bust, which has thrilled French archaeologists, shows a man in his fifties with the receding hair said to have given him a complex after taunts from his battlefield enemies.

He also has wrinkles and lines that reflect the war-hardened life of the man who conquered Gaul and whose quest for power was largely responsible for turning the Roman republic into a dictatorship that would later become an empire.

The bust was discovered by French archaeologist divers scouring the bottom of the Rhone in the southern town of Arles, which Caesar founded in 46 BC, distributing land among his veteran legionnaires. It is believed the bust was sculpted between 49 and 46 BC, when Caesar was in his 50s, a few years before he was assassinated by nobles in the senate house.

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