St Jean Cap Ferrat

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It's hard to describe paradise. And, of course, paradise is different for everyone.

The warm, sunny days, the pine trees lining the coast, the incredible array of plants and flowers are a magical combination for me.

It's "Witchy" Outside

No, this is not about Halloween.

To me, "witchy" is a special kind of weather. It is warm, not hot and windy. It can be threatening rain or raining. But, it is a swirling, gusty wind. It can happen in the daytime or at night. But, when this kind of weather happens, it has a very weird feeling. The leaves swirl, the shutters flap, hopefully the windows are closed.

If you're outside, look out, things are flying.

In Paris, we have this kind of weather in the fall. We were playing tennis with friends the night of the Beaujolais Nouveau in November when the wind whipped up, and the weather seemed very volatile. Perfect for a fall event.

Today in Cap Ferrat, the sky got cloudy about 5 PM. Good for my skin, I came home from the beach early. We relaxed for awhile but as the bullfrogs came out for the night and the birds went home to wherever they go at night, the wind whipped up. It started to rain, the sky is dark. The awning is flapping and the leaves are blowing.

It's "witchy" outside right now.

Fete de la Musique

It's not quite like Paris, here in the south of France. A little more relaxed, a little less cultural.

But, on the beach this afternoon, two young guys brought their guitars and played simple songs for everyone nearby. It wasn't a show, just another quiet Sunday afternoon on the beach.

The beach is called, Les Fosses. It is an incredibly beautiful bay, lined with rocks and pine trees. A pebbly, semi-sandy beach lets everyone enjoy the day.

Later tonight there will be some kind of band in the town square. Young children will be chasing each other and dancing, adolescents will be hanging around, smoking and gossiping. Us "oldies" will listen for a few minutes and go home to bed.

Visiting Nice

We went to Nice yesterday morning. Saturday in the summer is not a good time to take a driving trip. We found this out almost immediately, as the roads were packed with cars driving between lanes, in the bus and bicycle lanes, and every other possible means of getting to the destination a bit faster than the next car.

Our mission was simple -- change our rental car reservation and then go to the Chagall Museum. We had tried to find the Chagall Museum on a previous trip and got hopelessly lost. The first time we tried, we ended up at the Matisse Museum, had an enjoyable visit, got lost on the way home, but eventually made it.

Most streets in Nice are one-way, but they aren't parallel or perpendicular to each other. Just when you think you're headed in the right direction, the street dead-ends. This time we got messed up by a traffic circle. The map showed the road to the museum as being wide and straight, but we immediately encountered a large traffic circle that wasn't shown on the map with no wide/straight street branching off from it. We took our best guess and, once again, ended up hopelessly lost.

We did accomplish getting to the Nice train station. Even though the street signs are confusing and often show the direction to the station going two different ways, it is pretty hard to miss so we found it.

We needed to park our car, so that we could go into the car rental office. There were many open spaces that said they were for a maximum of 10 minutes. Fine, we knew we wouldn't take long.

But, we immediately encountered a new type of parking space. Once you pull the car into the space, a blue triangular bar raises behind your car.

But, Terry didn't pull the car in far enough, so the bar didn't go up. When I got out of the car, a woman in the next car told me to tell Terry to pull the car forward. I told him, but instead of going forward as instructed (this must be a man-thing) he backed up. As soon as the car moved, the blue bar went up and captured the underneath part of the car. As Terry ground the car forward over the bar, it made that awful metal on metal grinding noise that you never want to hear. Eventually he got the car off the triangular blue bar, but the car was trapped inside.

When we were ready to leave, I had to go to an automated machine and pay 1.50 Euro and the little blue bar disappeared and we could pull the car out of the space. But, the bar doesn't wait for long, it will go back up if you don't rush. Just as Terry started to back up, a man to parked his car behind ours, causing a major honking session before Terry wheeled the car out just in time as the blue bar was starting to go back up.

We weren't even perturbed about getting lost on the way back, we were just so happy that the car escaped, unharmed from the blue bar.

I'd Forgotten

We haven't been to the south of France in four years. In that time, I've forgotten all the lovely things that compel us to return. I'd also forgotten all the annoyances that caused us to stay away for four years.

But, all in all, I'm happy to remember and enjoy all the great things about this area.

First, the plants. The lantana, which grows in all colors. The pine trees that line the coast, the smells mingle, creating something magical. The bullfrogs singing their happy songs at dusk (10PM right now). The bees. The olive trees, the bouganvilla, the wild grape vines, the artichoke plants.

Everyone is sunburned and smiling. Speaking different languages. Some loud, some calm and quiet. Everyone is wearing bright colored, wrinkled clothes. Everyone is wearing sandals. No socks are allowed except on the tennis courts.

I'd also forgotten about how hard it is to park the car. The constant road construction, causing delays, forcing you to drive on the wrong side of the road with only a lone guy to direct traffic, with his "after lunch" smile on his face. I"d forgotten that you have to put a coin in the shopping cart to free it from the others. I'd forgotten what it feels like to have about 100 mosquito bites on skin that is also sweaty and a little sunburned.

I'd (almost) forgotten about topless beaches. All women are free on the beach here, it is understood.

But the little snack stand on the beach is gone. It was called "Anna, La Buvette" and they made the best pan bagnat I've ever eaten. There is no trace of this shop, just sand. I guess I can't leave for four years and expect my "spots" to stay the same.

Monday Morning -- The Worst Time For An "Aller"

It's not just any other Monday morning, it's the morning that we're leaving for a vacation. After a tough year in 2008, we thought we deserved a little R & R.

So far, it has not happened.

We arranged for our usual driver, Joseph and even confirmed with him last night by phone.

When we woke up at 5 AM, hearing the rain pounding on the street, we were all the happier that we'd soon be in the sun.

We locked up, turned everything off including water and gas, took our suitcases down the elevator and waited inside the doorway of our building to stay dry. We said "good morning" to most of our neighbors as they left for school, work, the bakery or a dog walk.

The cab was due at 8 AM. At 8:10, we knew there was a problem. We called Joseph, no answer. Then, Terry started to call cab companies. But, it's a rainy Monday morning and there were none available. Not from any cab company. We scrambled, looked through the phone book, called every company.

Then we realized that we're going to miss our train. I looked at the tickets which stated that they will be reimbursed until the time of departure. So we called their special number, 36 35, couldn't find the right set of options to cancel the tickets before the time the train left.

So, we grabbed the tickets and our umbrellas and walked, through the driving rain to the SNCF office. It does not open until 10 AM we found out and our train was leaving at 9:46 AM. This meant that we would miss canceling our tickets by 14 minutes. Inside the foyer of the SNCF office there is an electronic kiosk where you can go, night or day to buy or change your tickets. But, it was out of service. Just to be safe, I called the number on the kiosk to see if I could get someone to help, but all I got was a recording.

At least we were inside. We decided to wait inside the little foyer. We had about 45 minutes. There is a motion sensor inside the foyer and every time we flinched, the door opened and the rain sprayed in.

We made so much noise that a woman came to the side of the window and asked us what we needed. We told her that we had to cancel our tickets before 9:46 AM. She left. She returned about 10 minutes later and took our tickets, telling us she would cancel the "aller" for us. She returned, telling us that she had cancelled them. Thank you.

Eventually, a young guy came in, very wet. By this time the machine was working and he tried to use it. It didn't seem to work, so he left his suitcase inside the kiosk with us and left.

Now more people were arriving. Several nicely dressed women joined us in the foyer. Then a large (obese) man joined us and decided to smoke. We were all packed in like little sardines.

The rain was getting worse. Now there was a line of people going out the door of the foyer and into the street. Everyone was getting wet, but no one left. There were a few elderly people, very bravely waiting under their umbrellas.

Eventually (10:05) they opened the doors. The man next to me, in true French style, tried to get past me to get in first, but I'm shorter, so I darted under the partially opened metal grate as they opened it and got in the office first (!). I even grabbed a ticket, just in case they needed it.

A nice woman helped us, changed our tickets and car rental reservation. We walked home in the driving rain to re-group. I had to re-dry my hair, put my pants in the dryer to dry them off and change shirts. We haven't even left home yet and we've already had quite an adventure.

After we changed the tickets, we marched home, called another cab and put our clothes in the dryer. We felt positive, at least we'd be on our way! We got our cab, got to the Gare de Lyon and had enough time to stand around to wait for the train.

We were starving by this time. The train arrived, we boarded and Terry said that we couldn't have lunch until the train left the station. So, as soon as the train started to move, around 2 PM, we happily ate our lunches.

The countryside whizzed by. The sky was grey and the rain was rolling horizontally on the windows. We napped.

When I woke up, there was a glimmer of hope -- it was getting sunny, not raining. But, as we passed Avignon, it was raining again and now we were in Provence. I was very unhappy to think that we did all of this just to stay in a new location in the rain.

But, as the day progressed, the sky cleared and it was sunny.

We got off in Nice. The car rental place was supposed to be open until 8 PM, it was 7:20. We dragged our suitcases up several flights of stairs, out of the train station and to the car rental office which had a large sign posted that said that they closed at 7PM. So much for the info from the woman at the SNCF office on rue de Rennes. So, back with the suitcases to the "Accueil" where the woman said that we should go to the Avis line. We got there and there were probably 85 people in line, waiting to buy train tickets.

Back across the "gare" to the "Acceuil" where Terry demanded again about the car rental. The woman told us that we needed to go to Line #4. Again, we trudged across the gare where we found that all the stations were labeled, A, B, C, etc. not 1, 2,3. So back to the "Accueil" we went. We were tired, dirty, sweaty and irritated by this time. The woman told Terry to go to the 4th line, no matter what it was labeled. So back we went and waited for the people at the kiosk to leave. We got to speak with the rep and a scary, biker-type ran up to the kiosk and demanded to know why we didn't have to wait in the line. The guy behind the plexiglass told him that "we had the priority". At last we got the keys, took the elevator to the 6th floor and found the car.

We were on our way.

As we left the train station, I called the woman who had rented us the house. She was not very nice, demanding that we hurry, since her evening's plans were being ruined by our late arrival...

So, you now know how our relationship with "Livia" is going...

At least it's warm and sunny here!

The Stairway Renovation

Radio blaring, cigarette smoke wafting in the door, the workmen are diligently painting our front door today.

This is a multi-day process, with lots of sanding, hammering and grinding.

We have to leave our door open while the coats of paint (oil-based) dry.

I told Terry that if the front door was open, he would have to watch out for our "stuff". No problem. Before the door was opened, I had put my purse by the front door, in preparation for my departure. I got out of the shower, the front door was open, with my purse sitting there, no "Guard Terry" in sight.

This has now been fixed and my valuables have been locked up.

The stairway will look wonderful when it is finished. I'm excited to see the finished product.

The Cross Breeze Is Vital

As the days get longer and warmer, I remember something that I'd almost forgotten.

The value of the "cross draft or breeze". If an apartment has windows only on one side (like our apartment on rue de Seine), the air doesn't circulate very well. So, it's warmer inside the apartment.

It's been warm for the last few days, so I've been testing which windows to open to maximize the air circulation.

There's an art to this, of course. You have to also keep the sun from beating in the windows that are open. The hot sun makes the room hot. The proper windows must be open opposite each other for maximum effect. When it works, it's quite nice.

I have one window that I can't open because I have a beautiful french lavender plant in the window box. Bees have been attracted to the box.

The bees then come into the house and by the time I find them, they are already mad. I can't kill them, of course, so I have to try to coax them out without getting stung. Quite a job.

So far, we've been successful at keeping the apartment cool, maximizing the natural breezes of Paris. As a last resort, if it gets too hot, we can resort to "the blaster hose". This is my nickname for a portable room air conditioner that we bought a few years ago. The maximum that it can do is circulate slightly cooler air, and it is noisy and has a huge exhaust hose that you have to put out the window.