In this installment of my blog I am covering a year of regional travel in France and a trip back to the US to visit relatives. 

But let’s begin with a perennial favorite: 

Paris

…is an idea that thrills most but disappoints some – an idea about expectations and the perfect ideal.  I view Paris as a treasure hunt; I’ve been to the usual venues on most Parisian bucket lists, even Musee D’Orsay twice which still sends me into orbit; I never tire of the ambience, the grandeur tempered by reserve, that genius that comes with great art.  

The French are a clever bunch, be it the creation of the most delicate croissants, world class cuisine, fashion, the venues boasting some of the most iconic artists in history, authors, or architecture that challenges the boundaries of physics.  Every time I exit the metro and gaze upon the Seine with its familiar backdrops, I am always consumed with wonderment.  

Interestingly, you will not see any high rises on the centers skirting the right and left banks; this is done on purpose – why would you want to block the view, especially from the Sacre Coeur or Montmartre in general? See?  The French would say – how can this ever be outdone.  The paradox of restraint and then none; scale and substance.  Yes, the French are full of paradoxes.

When we ventured to Paris in the spring, unwittingly during spring break, cursing the crowds but praising the unseasonably warm weather, we found ourselves stumbling into venues that you ask… why is this not in a brochure or something.  You might find the venues in the “Hidden Paris” blogs, but in many cases not. 

For example: 

We wanted to go to E. Dehillerin; for fans of Julia Child this is where she purchased her copper and other assorted cookware during her time in Paris.  When we got off the metro we thought we had somehow stumbled onto Notre Dame:  Mon Dieu! Before our eyes was the magnificent Church of St. Eustache, and as it turns out the second largest cathedral in Paris.  As it was a hot day, we gladly ventured in and found ourselves cooling off in the almost-devoid-of-people nave, craning our necks at the elaborate stained glass windows and the stately pillars of heaven.  I was trying to reconcile in my mind the scale of this place – being in a sort of denial that this cathedral was nearly the size of Notre Dame – yet it is – right there. 

St. Eustache used to be the market center, Les Halles de Paris, centuries ago – think 13th century. It has gone through several iterations as you can imagine with all those revolutions and has been lovingly restored back to all its glory.

Church of St. Eustache

After we finished our respite, we mapped our way to E. Dehillerin, strolling along a lovely tree covered esplanade flanked by bistros, a revelation begging you to tuck in and pine away a few hours; and the French don’t mind, they practically invented slow eating…sometimes you wonder if your food is ever going to show up. While busy it was not “bustling.”  It felt like I had discovered a dirty little secret in the heart of Paris. 

After committing to come back for lunch on our next visit, we ventured around the corner to E. Dehillerin with its landmark store front.  It is very unassuming; the interior looks as though it hasn’t been refurbished in decades and gives off the vibe of a curiosity shop. There is a winding staircase to the downstairs where varieties of french pots and pans are on display.  

There is also a very utilitarian method of pricing:  The item is marked with a number and then you thumb through a notebook to find the price.  

I found the shop to be a bit of an oddity considering the bling you find along the store fronts on the Champ De Elysee or pretty much everywhere else in that vicinity. Of course Paris wouldn’t be Paris without its signature brands competing for attention. Yet, you have to admire E. Dehillerin for being “who they are.”  Even if you aren’t into finding high-end copper or kitchen gadgets, this place is definitely worth a look-see.  

And there is always that shady esplanade right around the corner😁

We also discovered the Waterman pen shop that boasted incredible Japanese pens and holders anywhere from 500 to 1000 or more euros.  It’s quite the place and was certainly competing on the same scale as the great fashion houses. 

For my birthday lunch we had reserved a table at Le Fermette, or its more uninventive label “Beefbar,” that is now part of a chain.  The contradiction being that it’s one of the more classical, original art deco venues in Paris.  The prices are steep as, in a sense, you are going not just for the food, but the venue.  I settled for a more moderate steak that was outstanding…of course!  The people watching was equally fabulous; a young woman decked out in an understated skirt and jacket with the classic French scarf sat and enjoyed her two-hour respite; in a very refined manner as if this was her day out to indulge and be doted on. 

But the highlight of the trip had to be the River Cruise.  It wasn’t a typical cattle-car barge that you see Parisian wannabes parading “whatever” fashion up and down the deck.  No, this was a bit more intimate dinner cruise with lounge chairs and tables facing the riverside.  I had only done an evening cruise, that I recommend, but you do miss some of the fabulous architecture; homes, apartments, the Louvre etc. all from a different perspective.  The real treat was that it was a holiday and the weather was perfect.  This unfolded in what I can only describe as an unending “block picnic” with Parisians and tourists alike, flooding the banks of the river with their dinners, aperitifs and joy.  I can’t imagine there is any place like it in the world – capturing the essence of a spring day in one of the most legendary cities in the world. 

In summation, Paris is always a good idea. 

In June, our next adventure took us to the French Atlantic coast to the popular destinations of Biarritz and just across the Spanish border to San Sebastián.

They are about a 3.5 hour drive from us, just west of the Pyrenees, through the lovely countryside.  Our first stop was San Sebastián that is famous for its Basque cuisine and language.  Basque is the oldest language in Europe and has a fascinating syntax.  They also have a vast array of tapas bars known as “pintxo” with flavors indigenous to that region.  The architecture and town center are lovely, a sort of French and Spanish fusion, and the weather had a southern California vibe to it.  

The beaches in this region are sandy, as opposed to the Med, which seem more pebble-like.  We saw local artists creating gorgeous reliefs in the sand and the beaches were surprisingly uncrowded – I suppose it’s more so in the height of summer but the weather certainly warranted more beach activity. 

Biarritz is what I had imagined Nice to be: Terraced cafes cascading down to a vast esplanade, sandy beaches, and coves.  Nice, to me, was more hotel dominated on the waterfront with food “shacks” on the beach that butt up to the esplanade.  Biarritz also has a diversity of restaurants and great shopping venues that you meander through at your leisure.  The city is a great balance and we thoroughly enjoyed our time there.  

After we returned from the US in September (more on that later) we ventured to Brantome also known as the “Venice of France.” I think that label overstates it a bit, but it is still quite beautiful with canals dominated by a picturesque abbey dating back to 769, originally founded by Charlemagne and even more interesting, is built into former troglodyte caves that were used for housing.  

As it was October, we were a bit off-season but most of the venues were open and we even found an English tea shop doubling as a bookstore that, we of course, walked away with more reading material.  

During this trip we toodled off to the east to the famous Lascaux caves, renowned for the well-preserved cave paintings.  We were thoroughly immersed in the experience and recommend it to anyone coming to France.  There are fantastic caves systems, some with paintings and underwater canals that you can boat through, within this region.  This area has so much to explore including the troglodyte villages we couldn’t see it all in one trip … so we’ll be back!  

Though we have seen a lot now, we feel as though we have only scratched the surface on this incredibly diverse country that we now call home.  

France 2025 France Reel. https://youtu.be/4Maza0u-klE

Now…our visit back to the United States: 

There’s a sudden jolt when landing back in your home country – actually it starts on the plane because everyone is speaking English and… with an American accent.  After nearly three years into our French transition, instead of the rather constant churn of flexing your brain to a foreign language and circumstance, you can finally let your “guard” down.  It’s a bit of a relief, much like taking meds for a headache.  When we flew by Mount Rainier, in all her magnificent glory, I was delighted she made a showing, welcoming me back to the place of my birth.  

We were greeted at the airport by my brother and sister-in-law and made the two hour journey to Sequim on the Olympic Peninsula.  

We were of course pretty shattered by the time we reached Sequim; it was dark and our sister-in-law thankfully brought us basic necessities like milk and creamer and we had the foresight to bring coffee.  Jet lag, being what it is, had me up pretty early regardless, knowing that I would need a nap later in the day.  

Sequim is in a beautiful area and we awoke to the mountains with the sun coming over the horizon.  My brother’s house is on the hill in a lovely subdivision that overlooks the Strait of Juan de Fuca; on a clear day they can see all the way to Victoria, Canada and Mt. Baker in the distance. 

We picked up my brother and went for a walk along the Railroad Bridge Trail, a lovely area complete with a nature center with Indian totems engraved in the concrete and fences.  I recommend stopping by here to anyone who visits this area.  

We ended the day with Thai food takeaway, yet another thing that is not readily available to us.  In France they tone it down and mix it in with Chinese and Japanese and it’s just not the same!  I have sourced ingredients to make my own and we are still on the hunt for a more authentic experience.  

The following days consisted of boys going golfing while I did some shopping for items not available in France, or Europe even.  I headed out to the local Walmart to stock up on:  Candies such as Butterfinger and Milk Duds to satisfy the sweet tooth of friends back in France.  It’s like a nostalgia thing really!  I got some Twizzlers and Whoppers as I haven’t been able to find the equivalent in Europe or the UK.  I also picked up nasal decongestant and some other over-the-counter meds.  In France, and most of Europe, you need to go to the pharmacy and ask for them at the counter;  they aren’t at the grocery store like they are in the U.S.   The packets here are small and some of the products such as the nasal decongestant lack the strength I’m accustomed to.  I also wrapped up presents for the relatives that I brought over (again, shipping is expensive from France to the US and visa versa) and took a welcoming nap.  

We had yet another early morning as we had to catch the early ferry to Seattle as my brother had an appointment and we decided to tag along.  The coastal fog was thick on our way to the Kingston ferry, yet it was like a welcoming abyss, carrying the essence of pine and coastal waters that is unlike anywhere else I have experienced in the world; the forest emerges through the breaking light and you are cocooned, or rather bathed in the untamed – that so much of this land remains.  I suspect part of the draw is that this is also the land of my birth and there is an inextricable pull of nostalgia that goes along with it.  We drove by the never-ending bays and inlets, easily connected onto the ferry, immediately experiencing an awakening that comes along with the bracing sea air.  It’s a perfect elixir when you think of the negative ions generated by the forest and the sea; you basically get a double whammy.  

While we were waiting for my brother at his appointment, we discovered a Target and an REI in walking distance – what a joy to find some odds and ends that we hadn’t seen in a while. 

The following day we were on the road again to Portland to catch up with old friends.  We took Highway 101 past the spectacular Hood Canal, stopping off to check out the local oyster beds.  We headed to Olympia to meet with our Portfolio Manager from Morgan Stanley – it was so great to catch up face-to-face vs our typical Zoom call.  After a leisurely lunch (yes it does happen in America),  we hit the all too familiar I-5 corridor… it was as though we had never left.  We couldn’t resist a stop at our old haunt of Centralia and to shop at the outlet stores -I was looking specifically for an Eddie Bauer fix and it did not disappoint!  Knowing we had only so much space in our luggage, a fair amount of restraint was required.

We later arrived at our friend’s house, Debbie and Mike’s,  just in time for cocktails.  They live in a lovely, restored vintage-style home set in the foothills of Forest Park, just off of the fabulous Japanese Gardens.  They have quite a few steps to get up the house but you are rewarded with a killer view of Portland and Mt. Hood.    We spent hours catching up after not seeing them for nearly three years. 

Saturday we slept in a bit and Bob went to meet a friend in our old neighborhood.  I took some time to decompress after two long days traveling…and I was still recovering from the flight.  I went for a walk and met with our friend Nancy, who also visits us in France – yes – it is a small world!!!  We had coffee at the famous Powell’s City of Books.  Again, we needed to practice restraint as books are pretty heavy and we were hungry for some well-priced gems.  The weather was balmy and we dove into some of the shops in the Pearl District, just for the fun of it. 

We found that the homeless situation had improved vastly and that Portland was on the upswing – recovering from the lack of tenants in downtown due to the pandemic.  Otherwise it was calm with people just going about their daily business.  

That evening we all went out to one of the better restaurants in Portland, which is no small feat as Portland is hailed as one of the top foodie venues in the states.  We had booked weeks ahead for a table at Higgins; an understated venue boasting local delights.  The salmon was of course spectacular.  

On Sunday we had arranged to meet up with friends on the waterfront.  Sadly the weather turned bad with torrential rain.  While some did not venture out to meet us, we were blessed with other old pals who came to learn about our French adventures.  Instead of going for a walk that would have been rather uncomfortable, we opted for a coffee shop – which isn’t hard to do in this part of the world.  Interestingly, one of the quirks in France is the proliferation of hair salons; we can count two to three within what seems like a five block radius🤷‍♀️  So I can safely say that there are an equal amount of coffee shops in the Pacific Northwest as there are hair salons in France.  

Go figure.  

After spending time with good friends, including a walk through Forest Park with Debbie, we headed back to Sequim.  

We motored back up the I-5 via Centralia to get an A&W fix, finding that it was tragically integrated with a Kentucky Fried Chicken.  We ordered a small bucket of chicken and I got a “medium float.” The root beer float turned out to be a 32 ounce monster and the chicken was exceptionally greasy.  We have taste tested KFC in France out of curiosity, and it has nowhere near the grease-quotient as the one in Centralia. When we left, there were more than seven fast-food joints lining the streets on the route back to the freeway.  Yes, we have McDonalds, Burger King and KFC in France, but they are the exception rather than the rule, they are also highly regulated as the ingredients are sourced locally.  We have read recently that the reason France has some of the lowest obesity rates in the world is due to the regulation of having freshly sourced food within walking distance in all the major cities.  Even their frozen food is becoming more healthy so that “convenience” foods are readily available to busy folks.  

So all the fruit and vegetables stands we see along the streets when we go into town are for a good reason.  And they are also beautifully arranged – of course!! 

The French more often than not, opt for the two-hour lunch and cafe culture; it’s a slower pace of life here and it works.  And… eating at your desk is actually prohibited by French law!! This slang has been called “A Desko.” You will rarely see the French walking and eating at the same time.  And the noise register is much lower in restaurants; the French practice restraint when speaking while eating out and the children are very disciplined – considering they’re…kids.  They find talking on the phone and loud parties to be rude – I suspect it is different during football matches but I don’t normally frequent those places.  

And I have yet to see a drive-through Starbucks even in the major city centers.  

The next day, my eldest sister, Carol, arrived in Sequim and we had a chance to catch up with her and her charming husband, Nate, over a lovely dinner at the house.  The following days included a trip to Port Townsend and a walk along the nearby spit.  We found Port Townsend to be lovely with its old-style architecture and of course, a vast array of coffee shops.  We stopped for a cuppa overlooking the bay.  The weather was perfect and balmy – it could have easily been a plague of rain so we were feeling blessed. 

We then ventured to Port Townsend via Flagerty spit where we had a nice walk and I had Reuben that isn’t a thing in Europe – that I can find.  It was a perfect day with the ocean breezes keeping us cool.  I picked up a few souvenirs from beach combing to add to my ever-expanding collection.  

We came back and had a nice beef stroganoff and shared old family pictures much to my brother’s delight.  Carol also came with her album to fill in the gaps. The sky had clouded over with smoke from the bear gulch fire, exacerbated by Mt. St Helens having a hiccup and spewing bursts of ash.   

The following day was yet another stellar day,  and we all ventured up to Hurricane Ridge in the Olympic mountains; the smoke and fog had cleared and we climbed to over 5000 feet to the visitor center.  We walked the trails, skirted by both newer bushier growth and tall ancient pines shouldered by steep alpine meadows.  The winters on the ridge, as you can imagine from the name, are harsh and the ruins of bleached tree trunks and branches emerge from the forest floor, dappled by the forest canopy.  It was a bit coolish but not drastically so. 

We managed to acquire a picnic table with a grand view of the range, warmed by the high altitude sun and ate lunch surrounded by the magnificent ruins of a glacial past, cut deep and wide through the region eons ago.  

On our way back, we stopped off at the viewpoints and from there we could see the Strait of Juan De Fuca all the way into Canada.  

The area is known as a “rain shadow,” a bit of a paradox as on one side it receives only 20 inches of rain a year and on the other side of the mountains is the Olympic Rain Forest, one of the wettest places in the US, that gives rise to a moss-like fantasy usually found in stories such as Lord of the Rings.  The term “rainshadow” sparks a long procession of shops, sundries and coffee references throughout Sequim.  

We ended the day reminiscing and I bid my sister Carol and Nate a fond farewell as they made their journey back to Idaho.  

On Friday, the four of us headed out to the Dungeness Spit; walking and beach-combing. We communed with the waves as they thundered onto the shore, spewing various forms of seaweed and ocean debris.  The sea air here in the PNW is much more intense – like the smell of oysters and smoked salmon.  Very different from the east and west coasts of Europe.  

We then had lunch at a fabulous hamburger restaurant; mine had the incomparable Hatch green chilis, only found in New Mexico, giving the burger a nice sweet, but not too spicy flavor. That was topped off with a reasonable, thick root beer float.  The others had thick milkshakes served in traditional milkshake glasses.  It was a rather nostalgic moment with a shared experience enjoyed by all.  Truly a classic American lunch!!

After having gorged ourselves once again, Bob and I venture back to the Airbnb to start pulling together our accumulated “stuff” in the hopes we wouldn’t go over the weight requirements at the airport.  

We then ventured off to see “Downton Abbey, The Finale” in Port Angeles followed by a nice (light) meal at Kokopelli.  Again, we noticed the noise register in the restaurant was much higher than what we had become accustomed to in France. 

Saturday morning found us packing, trying to see how accommodating our luggage would be with our purchases, that included taking everything out of cardboard packaging and some clever rearranging.   Of course, we did last minute shopping in Sequim for some souvenirs, had some nice Chinese food (oh yes, General Tso’s Chicken!) and then met my brother for a walk once again on the Railroad Bridge Trail.  

We stopped by the Hurricane Cafe in Sequim for ice cream and I had huckleberry flavor (of course).  We ended our stay with a dinner  at “Nourish” – a lovely organic restaurant to celebrate our anniversary.  It always seems like we are somewhere else in the world for our anniversary – and that’s ok.  

Yet another beautiful day in the PNW. 

Sunday – the last day: 

We got up and spent a few hours packing as we were running over the limit on the baggage but we managed to sort that drama out.  We had a final walk with my brother around his lovely neighborhood with fantastic views of the bay and the mountains.  It was a perfect send-off. 

In Summary:

The mountains and the oceanside of the Pacific Northwest is a deeper sensory experience; the smell of the pine permeates at a molecular level and the sea has a distinct smell of brine – much like visiting an oyster bar.  The air is so piercing and the sky such a vibrant blue; it seems as though is should be reserved for a different dimension. 

The rain shadow of the Pacific Northwest keeps the damp and gloom at bay, while affording the lush green of the ever-pervasive pine forests.  The fog is thick but breaks away by noon.  I am never bothered by fog, I actually find it quite comforting. 

After our long-haul flight that I am increasingly becoming less-of-a-fan of, we landed in Toulouse, where we spent the night before heading home.  

Some of the take always from our cultural experience of returning to the US: 

The proliferation of Suburus – and America being so at ease with larger vehicles; in France you would feel like a sardine on the country roads.  In fact, on the rare occasion that we have encountered a Ford Ranger or its next-of-kin, we are really surprised.  Though the French do like to drive the American muscle cars and we have encountered Mustangs and Cameros on occasion.  

There are no retrofitted Honda Civics with their loud enginges breaking the sound barrier, nor do you find much in the way of loud thumping stereos, even in the larger cities.  

The food is definitely more processed:  We bought what we thought were organic strawberries and they stayed relatively fresh for nearly two weeks.  Here in France, the berries last, maybe, up to four days!  Hmmm.

The roads in France, and in Europe in general, are pretty devoid of garbage. And it is rare that you find rusted cars or old furniture strewn anywhere i.e. illegal tipping. If found on your property you will be fined.  So they keep things pretty tidy.  In our area of Portland, there was always illegal tipping, it was rather annoying.  

While the French don’t have “weed and feed” they still endeavor to keep their properties landscaped and are fond of laurel or similar hedges, cypress trees and pines.  Yet, like everywhere else, most of the French are not rich and I remind myself that I came from a simple middle-class neighborhood in Portland, a parallel contrast in culture and landscapes – each equally as flawed and grand as the other. 

Back at our humble country home we welcomed the solitude, the canopy of stars, the rising and setting of the sun that always paints a perfect picture across the nearby fields, and the long sigh of fresh air. 

Pacific Northwest Reel: https://youtu.be/UscWXn9xeT4?feature=shared