France 2025 Travel Review

Posted on December 30, 2025December 30, 2025 Posted in Expatriation, France, French, National Parks, Photography, The French LifeTagged #expat, #francophile, #pacific northwest, #photography, #travel, biarritz, brantome, europe, France, lascaux, paris, san-sebastian, TravelLeave a comment

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

September 13 – 20, 2024 Masai Mara to the Swahili Coast, Kenya

Posted on October 19, 2024December 30, 2024 Posted in Africa, Photography, TravelTagged Africa, cheetah, dianibeach, kenya, marariver, masaimara, mombasa, Nairobi, safari, swahili, swahilicoast, Travel, wildlife1 Comment

After navigating the quirky Tanzanian/Kenyan border crossing, we boarded our short flight, more like a hop, to the Masai Mara – our last stop on the safari circuit. We landed on the remote Mara Ol Kiombo airstrip (unpaved and in a swirl of dust) and were greeted by our guides from the Mara Expedition Camp, Julius and his apprentice Diana. The Great Plains Conservation land cruiser was outfitted such that it beckoned a bygone era with the wood detailing and leather accessories.

I had been pining over Great Plains Conservation for years, drifting into a sort of dream state, imagining the golden age of exploration complete with campaign furniture and vast plains teaming with game as far as the eye could see. Founded by National Geographic photographers Derek and Beverly Joubert, they own a string of lodges stretching from Kenya to the Okavango Delta. They fund anti-poaching units and private concessions; not only do you get an exclusive experience, but you also enjoy the privacy of the concessions which is like eating at a rugged Michelin Star restaurant – with the added satisfaction of knowing the money you are spending is helping to protect fragile wildlife corridors.

As we drove across the plains, the views emerged into what I had imagined; you don’t think there is game anywhere because the horizon seems unreachable. We stopped off for a bush tea break under the shade of a fig tree, stretching our legs and adjusting our senses to the calm.

When we arrived at the Mara Expedition Camp it felt as though we had walked through a portal in time: Huge black and white animal prints adorned the walls that surrounded a collection of african furniture and artifacts – leather, teak, including massive moroccan lamps harking back to the colonial days, all on display in a flourish of understated class. There are only six tents in all, with the main lodge and dining area set in a snug grove of acacia trees.

Our tent was a short yet meandering walk from the main area. It was set on a polished wood platform, complete with a campaign desk, a leather journal, USB plugs and our own wi-fi; technology being present but obscured by the furniture design. Trunks and rugs adorned the terrace and tent allowing one to go about in barefoot bliss. The bathroom, shower and dressing area were outfitted with polished brass fittings including such details as animal faces carved into the brass plugs. We had a lovely teak table and director chairs on the terrace and even the zipper pulls were fitted with colorful Masai beading.

The area was absent the normal invasion of flies (including the dreaded tetse) and it was off-season for the mosquitoes. The breeze carried the woody scent of acacia through the tent and it felt good to be able to breathe so deeply; I felt a sense of tranquility I hadn’t felt in days, the only rush being a band of baboons that went hurtling past the tent.

This was bohemian living – African style.

Bob unfortunately had taken ill with a balance issue he had been battling for several months. The bush flights were bumpy and in some cases we had to make multiple stops to drop passengers off at different airstrips. Add to that the immense amount of off-road jolting for the last several days, caused his condition to reach a tipping point. On the bright side he had an outstanding venue in which to recuperate and would hopefully get out on safari the next day.

After lunch, I was happy to lounge around the main area as Bob got a massage; other guests must have been out as I had the whole area to myself🥰

I took time walking around the grounds which was safe during the day. There was an electric fence around the perimeter to keep the elephants and giraffe at bay, otherwise the trees would have been stripped and who knows what other damage could occur. Predators were still allowed to roam freely though, and after dark lions have killed game near the dining tent…while the guests were having dinner. A rare occurrence but still gives you a sort of unnerving pause just the same.

After a nap, we enjoyed a lovely dinner with the lodge fire blazing nearby and the kerosene lanterns dotted everywhere. The service and food were superb, and I found the meals in Africa to be meat (or vegan options), vegetables and rice with woody undertones of African spices and a simple portion of desert. There was a group of Americans at the larger table and the night lit up with laughter.

We were escorted to our room which was being attended by David, a tall elegant gentleman with an easy manner and ready smile. He became one of our favorite staff. After a restful night’s sleep without much activity, except for calls of distant hyenas, we woke to David-the-favorite bringing us coffee and biscuits. It really was a heinous privilege!

Bob wasn’t up to the challenge of a morning safari, so I wound up setting out solo with the two guides, greeting the sunrise across the Masai Mara as huge as an African smile. I was now embarking on an impossible reality; until now I only held inadequate ideas of what to expect. As the sun rose, we passed a scattering of backlit topi and gazelles, traversed brackish gullies, one that I thought we would be stuck in for sure, and then spotted several other land cruisers in the distance. Julius spied the group with his binoculars.

…cheetah.

If the lion is the king, then the cheetah must be the supreme diety of the savannah; worshipped without shame above all the other felines.

We arrived with only a few other vehicles, which was just as fortunate as her presence. There she stood, her head just above the grass, then like an apparition she glided through the grass, pacing the way angels pace themselves so as not to disturb us mere mortals, the sun positioned at such an angle her spots shone like solar flares across her fur.

The savannah is always a mesmerizing experience, but add a cheetah to the mix and you could easily become her prey. Like Medusa, you stare into her eyes and become transfixed as though you wished for a privileged death at the threshold of such a magnificent creature.

Hello gorgeous

Julius watched her trajectory and slid the rover past the others towards a fallen acacia, though I was a bit concerned that we were moving away from her. We arrived with only two other vehicles, he whispered “if we are lucky, she will climb on top.” We watched for several minutes as she strolled through the tide of grass and then, as if mama Africa had handed her a script, mounted the tree, stretching and looking about; it was as though we did not exist. She took her place upon the tree, like a goddess on a throne: I could almost see her taking a paw and positioning the sun just right, and saying “see, who really is the most beautiful of them all.”

It was at that moment I could have exited this earth with little complaint.

I would have been happy with a clear view of her on a small clutch of rocks and had not remotely expected a travel brochure moment. I couldn’t believe my eyes, transfixed, if not paralyzed by this moment in time. Then she decided she was done with us mere mortals, leapt off the tree and sauntered through the grass before becoming a glint in the sun.

A seminal moment on safari

At this point Julius said we need to go as we were apparently somewhat off-road at that point and the rangers would be by. As we drove away the other vehicles followed her and within a few minutes, alas, the rangers showed up and dispersed the other vehicles; crowding her too much could prevent her from pursuing game and frankly, after such a magnificent display why not just leave it there???

Julius and his intuition became the highlight of my safari experience. I relaxed into my seat and watched the game go about their morning business as we made our way to a convenient breakfast spot, overlooking the savannah and in grand African style, and of course with more food than I could possibly eat.

Sure, we have now seen just about every animal at this point, but it’s their placement in different parts of the continent that make it so special. Just being in the Masai Mara, in the high plateau of thin, undisturbed air, brings a clarity and freedom as opposed to the more condensed, touristed areas. There are so many places that go unexplored, absent vehicles and disturbances, you can refresh your weary mind and commune with the animals; they don’t suffer the human constructs of existential crisis’ and it’s as though you are given permission to just blend in with the rhythm of the land.

After lunch and a short nap I decided to go out on the afternoon drive; Bob was content to relax at the lodge. We were mostly on our own, which isn’t so difficult to do; you may see a vehicle kick up dust in the distance, and as the heat and wind builds up and then recedes the grass feels alive once again. The lions we met on the way were still sleeping it off and the antelope were content for the moment; they do not fear the day – that is the only time we can even walk around the camp without being escorted by a Masai Warrior, so we can relate.

I know how he feels

During our afternoon jaunt, we ventured past a hyena hide, basically a nest in the low bush and you could see where the dirt had been smoothed out from use. And then we happened upon herds of elephants, with adolescents in tow.

Elephants – always

Due to the density of the wildebeest in the Serengeti, there were a fair amount of carcasses but in the Masai Mara we didn’t run into as much, but you still see the occasional bones, and wonder how many generations they have been sitting there.

Julius had been informed that there had been a leopard sighting and if there was any event that dulled my experience it was the fifteen some-odd vehicles crammed around a grove of acacias to catch a glimpse. When we arrived there were a few vehicles that were shamelessly crushing their way into the trees for a better view. Julius said the leopard was asleep and would probably leave once the vehicles were gone. I told him Hakuna Matata – this is not how I wanted to experience the local wildlife. We abandoned the love-fest and headed up to a knoll where we stopped and settled in for a sundowner; this would be my last afternoon safari and I celebrated the day with a nice spot of whiskey.

Below us was the leopard-grove, hiding the cluster of vehicles, and I was content to watch the sun draw down into a beautiful evening. The gazelles were kicking up dust as they clustered together for the evening. I asked Julius if they did that for safety reasons and he said yes, the herds will start coming together at dusk for the “night is dark and full of terrors.”

Sundowner on the Masai Mara

The leopard-grove-love-fest vehicles had dispersed, and we ventured back down to see if we could catch a glimpse of the feline in question, but it was too dark and Julius suspected that he had moved on. We headed back to the lodge as the plains drew her curtains and we arrived to the glow of lanterns marking the pathways and a welcoming campfire.

During the night I heard the occasional hyena, but otherwise dreamt about legacies of bones and filaments of grass disturbed only by the passing of a cheetah.

In the morning we set out for the Mara Concession; Bob remained absent and bid me an adventurous morning. As the sun rose, I could see giraffes patterned in miniature against the dawn. We drove through some pretty rough roads reminiscent of the Ngorongoro Crater, but soon came to the gate: Only private vehicles were allowed and a limit of five at that.

Within the concession was a Masai village that had been purposefully set-aside for the local tribe as indeed, they had lived for generations on the Mara. I’m sure Karen Blixen and Denys Finch-Hatton would have been thrilled to know that there were those who carried on their vision of preservation; hold-outs against the hubris of greed that has left Nairobi in the state it is currently in.

The roads then changed dramatically – they were dirt but well-groomed and I settled in as we passed through rolling hills and watering holes teeming with Cape Buffalo and then we broke over the crest onto a vast, flat plain. Here there were herds of Hartebeest that I had not seen since South Africa, and for a while the concession seemed devoid of game with a scattering of lone trees.

Cape Buffalo

Julius said we were heading for the Mara River, yes, the same one that feeds the Serengeti. As we neared, you could see the groves of trees hugging the banks and then large herds of giraffe and antelope emerged; it was as though we were heading into an unexplored wildlife corridor.

The Mara Concession

We ventured to the precipice of the river; the area struck me as the perfect camping spot and if it wasn’t protected, I could well imagine it would have been overrun by now. The guides set up the bush breakfast and we sat on the escarpment with a clear view of hippos, crocodiles and a herd of timid zebras on the other side.

This is what happens when you get my age

The swifts and the colorful bee eaters were swimming on the skin of the river, diving into their muddy nests, while the eagles became grounded in the trees. It was a veritable quandary of wildlife; Julius said this was his favorite spot and I would concur; it is a place where the likes of John Muir would set foot, not so much to find the truth but to return to it.

The zebra eventually dared one another to dodge the sleeping slug-of-a-hippo for a drink in the river. It’s a stressful affair because even if the hippos don’t scare you off, the insidious crocodiles may be in striking distance. This went on for a good half-hour with only two of the zebras wandering to the shore and successfully satiating themselves.

A typical day on the Mara River

We packed up (I was somewhat reluctant but vowed to commit to this place in memory) and headed out for the plains where we found lions mating in the shade of a bush and further on a large male guarding the remains of a zebra. I had only seen wildebeest kills and the hide of the zebra created a contrast against the muted tones of the lion. He had had his fill and was panting heavily, and I suspect would be in for a very long nap. An observant hyena noted this, and within a blink of an eye, retrieved a leg and high-tailed it to a safe spot.

A not so petit dejeuner

As the temperature rose I could actually see the mirage of heat coming off the grass, yet it really didn’t feel too intense.

And…more elephants

As we headed back, we skirted the Masai village, women in their colorful robes looking like facets of beads strung across the neck of a tree, swaying with the wind.

This would be my last safari drive and I was grateful to have ended it at the Mara Expedition Camp. It was everything I had imagined, if not more; it could have easily stayed a few more days.

Once back at the camp, Bob said the staff had found a nest of Bush Babies (tiny nocturnal primates), we stopped by one of the thick acacia trees and up in the branches one was slung over a limb, awake and staring at us with those huge eyes. Since they are nocturnal so it was a real treat. Then he pointed out the baby Bush Baby – I melted on the spot. I wish I could take one home!!

When we reached the tent I decided to lay down for a while; the flame of this experience finally burned down and I wound up convalescing in the tent; my body raging against the altitude and my inability to consume anymore. Unfortunately it was our anniversary and I was out of commission – it was almost as if the build up and let down of such overpowering experiences had depleted all my resources. Fortunately, even though Chem Chem had the date wrong, we at least had a once-in-a-lifetime celebration in the bush.

We were set to leave the next day: I managed some toast for breakfast and then the staff danced in with our anniversary cake that almost reduced me to tears (see the camp reel below). I had to tear myself away from this place, the atmosphere had put me in a dream-like trance despite my ailments.

On our way to the airstrip Julius got word that two cheetah brothers had been sighted; considering that Bob had not been on safari during our stay in the Masai Mara, this was a real treat. We arrived with only a few other vehicles nearby and there they sat, under a large tree, observing a herd of gazelles – or trying to if they could just stay awake.

Our safari ends in feline splendor

I’ve noted that lions will look at you but cheetahs look past or through you – as if you don’t exist, as if humans are so inferior we aren’t worth the bother. It is somehow fitting for the haute couture of the savannah.

Thank you Mama Africa for such an exemplary farewell, your children have delighted us beyond measure and I will think often of your treasures. The safari couldn’t have been scripted any better, except that I wish I could have enjoyed your embrace a bit longer.

Mara Expedition Camp Reel

Julius and Diana waited until our flight took off, it was a larger plane with only one stop in Amboseli. We soon arrived at the funky Diani Beach airport in the pouring rain, yet I felt like I could stand there and let it wash me clean. We were now south of Mombasa, on the Swahili Coast and back at sea level. At the private resort of Kinondo Kwetu we found a thatched roof paradise reminiscent of Hawaii, void of the summer crowds with only the antics of monkeys. I felt like I was floating to and fro with the surf, bathed in the perfect temperature ranging between 70-80 degrees.

https://www.kinondo-kwetu.com/

We were well away from Diani Beach itself, with its cluster of large resorts reminiscent of Honolulu. Kinondo is very secluded, I felt as though we were in our own bubble, virtually undisturbed, unencumbered, in the drift, and I was starting to feel like my old self. We stayed grounded for the most part, lounging around the pools and cabanas, save for our meals that were always served at a different venue in the resort.

Funky cabana-style lunch venue in an old boat

Besides the thieving black faced monkeys there was a family of beautiful Colobus monkeys that came through the resort, oddly disinterested in our food our belongings and were a joy to watch.

Colobus monkey

We ventured out for short shopping and snorkeling trips and were very content just to return to the resort where we could meander freely into the evening without the threat of being eaten, and at times collecting impressive shells on the beach that had washed upon virtually untouched shores.

Snorkeling in the Indian Ocean

On our last evening the staff set up a private table by the pool; they troubled themselves to bring the food from the kitchen to this unexpected, and final, venue. Lanterns lit the path and the pool surround, and we found ourselves dining in tropical splendor – the only sound being the surf and the wind in the palms. We don’t know why we were chosen for this particular experience but we lingered in the moment; it’s as though our anniversary dinner was transported from the Masai Mara to Diani Beach🥰

Who would ever want to leave such a place and would you ever grow bored??

I’m going to really miss this place

Though we weren’t heading back to a career or workplace, we knew the transition of reality would still be difficult after such phenomenal experiences, and that we may never venture to this level of travel-euphoria again. The price of privacy can be unobtainable for many, and we have been blessed to be able to indulge in such a fashion🙏

The next day we landed back at the Fairview, we decided to have one last dinner by the pool before our flight home; but our venue was short-lived when the heavens opened up and Nairobi gave us a monsoonal deluge, a sort of equatorial send-off sending everyone rushing for the cover of the bar: It was as if Africa was washing away the dust of our experience, preparing us for the stage of our journey.

In Conclusion

Africa in an untouched state is a formidable land, with roots that run deep into the human psyche…if you open your heart wide enough to let her in. When we left it was like a dear friend who had passed on; you navigated the headwinds together and the precious trinkets you’ve gathered have taken on a soul of their own. We surround ourselves with souvenirs until they too become bones on some distant plain.

There are no straight lines on the savannah, no matter how much you can try, Mama Africa will not allow it. She will wash out your roads, feed you a buffet of dust, and displace your sweat to the clouds. You cannot tame her elephants or zebras and her guardians will disperse you if you misbehave where her children are concerned.

I have reflected several times on the curious behavior of the eagle that had landed on the lawn when I was visiting the Blixen museum. It wandered about, like a protectorate of sorts. If Karen Blixen had a spirit-animal I do wonder if it would be an eagle, untethered, flying to great heights, drifting above the fray, while civilization forced the land creatures into an unnatural migration from the Ngong to the plains. But not the birds, as their song softens the blow of civilization to counter-balance its progress. Eagles, like the two lovers who soared across the Great Rift Valley, float in the elusive animal-ether of which the Baroness was a part. Silence will speak, said the animal spirit…if you just take a moment to listen.

March 2024 Our Dream Maison a Year Later

Posted on March 1, 2024 Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, Maison, maison de campagne, Photography, The French Life, Voyage en FranceTagged #france, #francophile, #maison, #photography, #spring, europe, France, paris, Photography, TravelLeave a comment

Was it really a year ago that we collected the keys and took possession of a decade-old dream of moving to France? Sure, the expectation was to be excited beyond belief, yet we found that our elation had been replaced with relief, excitement with anticipation; our foray into the French delivery system (as in goods), as I would soon learn, begged the same treatment as an entire chapter out of a Peter Mayle novel. It’s difficult to invoke the anticipated glassy-eyed euphoria since we had nothing to sleep on 😁 and soon learned our bed had gone MIA, though we did have our washer, dryer, freezer and TV delivered as promised, so were far better than anyone on the Gaza Strip. And…having an established address cures so many of the French administration requirements for “proof of residency,” as we now have utility bills to prove we are in fact residents. So there👈

We did manage to get our bed, a manic adventure that warranted more than a good night’s sleep. While we were living the spare life, we had plenty to do before our container arrived, including curating furniture to replace what we had divested back in Oregon. We ventured to brocantes and online shops to find pieces that would fit the theme of our new digs. I also managed to get the paint color matched up, again much to my relief, but then to my dismay discovered the lack of coverage (as in watery thin) and ridiculous price for 3 liters of paint could only be made up by wine, cheese and copious amounts of baguettes. Sure, I could find some cheap and cheerful color knock-offs, but they wouldn’t match the color that the majority of the interior was painted in. And it was a nice warm cream color that enhanced the amber and gold light that blessed our mornings and evenings that make Southwest France so appealing. You have to make concessions every once in a while.

Master bedroom before and after

Dining room before and after

Terrace before and after

Even though it’s been a year we are still finding a home for some of items, especially our artwork.

Bob’s birthday lands in January and we opted to go to the lovely L’Atelier, that was once a Michelin star restaurant, and still provides the same level of service and outstanding food presentation; in fact they were ranked #1 by National Geographic for food lovers exploring the culinary delights of France. This, mind you, is a few minutes from our house in the charming bastide of Issigeac. Being that it was chilly, and a Sunday, I decided it was best to make reservations as the French tend to flutter into the local restaurants after Sunday church services and al fresco was not on the menu. We scored a lovely table next to the cavernous dining room fireplace. And as predicted, we were soon surrounded by what appeared to be some rather well-off Brits and French floating in for a long “repas” or meal.

L’ Atelier on a summer day

Much to my surprise they had the black squid-ink pasta; I had tried to obtain this delicacy in Venice, but it wasn’t on the menu of the restaurant that was recommended to us. The meal was your standard two hour French affair with the added bonus of the artistic flair and mouth-watering delights that the French are famous for. In America, in a small town of this nature I would be lucky to find a Denny’s! We have visited our fair share of “greasy spoons”, though tragically I do miss the Denny’s grand slam breakfast with the hash browns and American bacon. We have to settle for the British variety of bacon which isn’t exactly the same, but not all is lost as we have been able to obtain Bisquick for an occasional pancake feast.

After enduring the torrential rains of last fall, January saw a dip in temperatures, but unlike our friends in Portland, Oregon who had sub-freezing temperatures, with trees collapsing on their homes and their pipes bursting, we had our heat pumps and wood stove to keep us cozy.

We welcomed a thick layer of frost that enveloped the surrounding fields like a dusting of snow, making for a dreamy albeit bracing experience upon exiting the house. When the sun burst through, it disrupted the vision causing temporary blindness, with its threat of rainbows and warmth, it otherwise was a tease and never really warmed up for the entire day. This only lasted for about a week and then we went to the other extreme with temperatures cresting 60 degrees; confusing the bees – though the butterflies apparently couldn’t be bothered; I don’t know that bees are dumber than butterflies but they were having some challenges to say the least.

The weather finally leveled out to more normal temperatures for February, thankfully without the flooding we had in the fall. Everyone says spring has come a month early; the rosemary is blooming giving the bees something to feast on and the mock cherry trees are even budding, providing some healthy competition to the daffodils.

We are now falling into a bit of routine with our weekly trips to the Saturday Market in Villereal. Villereal is small (a whopping 1200 residents) but is a bustling community that supports the surrounding population and is rather crowded during the tourist season. We aren’t near any really large cities, both Bergerac and Villeneuve-sur-lot are 22 – 27,000 inhabitants respectively, and are only a half hour away through the valley, interrupted only by the occasional commune or bastide. They have everything we need including most of the French big box chains and charming medieval city centers where you can grab a cuppa and watch the world go by. We are over two hours from Bordeaux and further southeast lies Toulouse. Toulouse is one of the largest cities in France and is another couple of hours away; it’s not quite on the scale as Seattle but it sure has the population density feel to it. It has a good airport and we tend towards flying out of there so we aren’t stuck with the Ryan air cheap-seats out of Bergerac which is fine if you’re going to Paris but not anyplace much further. They both have Ikea and just about everything you could possibly need including better options for Asian faire.

Suffice it to say we are a respectable distance from any major centers and Villereal, with our doctors, nail and hair salons only ten minutes down the road. Heck I would drive that far in Portland for many of my appointments anyway! Here we glide through the backroads of countryside, vineyards, orchards, and rustic farms to our appointments. There’s also a smattering of horse stables nearby and we have on occasion have had to slow down to let riders and trotters (with carriages) pass. It takes a bit getting used to and adds to the local charm.

Our upgrades on the house continue – though not the major renovations like we did in 2023; we had guttering installed on the south side of the house to mitigate the problems with flooding in the cellar (not to be confused with some magical wine cave as it houses the boiler, washer and freezer), we will be able to capture more water and also pump the overflow away from the house into the nearby field. The rest of the house had guttering except for this side for some reason.

I completed the painting and the floor treatment in the upstairs hallway; my aging body is glad this is now completed and in recovery. The hallway had been bit of a train wreck for a while with unpacked boxes and “stuff” that was placed there to be attended to “another day.” It appeared the floors hadn’t been touched in decades and some stain and wax gave them a lovely rustic patina. We now have a gallery wall to include some of my photography and art collections and books. I love using picture ledges as they give you more freedom on appointing art without copious amounts of wall-banging. These walls are thankfully drywall, but much of the house is stone so one must use discretion.

Upstairs hallway updates

The wall leading to the office is what I have deemed a “memory wall” (in progress) so we can reflect upon our loved-ones, living and passed on, as go about dealing with the copious amounts of paperwork required to maintain our existence in France.

In the meantime, Bob has been turning over the garden plot with manure and compost so we can get some planting done this year. Our water tank is in the ground and operational; we are certainly not lacking water right now with unprecedented rain systems hitting us, but we could wind up with a summer drought at which time we’ll be thankful for the water buts and tanks. We have an additional tank (but) installed on the northwest side of the house to water the “acid garden” which will include the blueberries that we will be planting in the next month. Otherwise, we are still navigating the mud-scape but will be planting grass soon and look forward to the pool area being landscaped later this year.

We are also invited to a feast sponsored by the commune (Doudrac) where we were introduced as new residents – we are the only Americans in this vicinity so are a bit of a novelty; it seems everywhere we go when they find out we’re Americans they seem so pleased; I took my ankle boots to the cordonnier (shoe repair shop) in Eymet which is a British enclave not too far from us – when he looked at my boots he said they were very good and I mentioned they are American and that I’m American – he thought it was the coolest thing! I can only assume it’s due to the popularity of American items in France and also our efforts during the war. We are always very welcomed pretty much everywhere we go. We are now able to hold down some albeit stilted conversations in French when we visit the market or the pharmacy which is rather exciting.

We are looking forward to spring and getting our vegetable plot going, known in France as a potager. Bob is also designing a flower garden that will include gladiolus, dhalias and an array of wild flowers.

In May are planning a trip to the UK, specifically Wales, to enjoy a barge trip through the Welsh countryside and catching up with relatives. More to come on our spring exploits!

…Now for a French moment:

French farmers block the streets of Paris in protest of too many restrictions and too many exports of foreign produce. This mayhem extended all the way to our area including spewing manure on McDonalds, supermarket chains and government buildings 💩

November 11, 2023 Veteran’s Day – a Special Tribute

Posted on November 10, 2023November 10, 2023 Posted in France, France, French, Photography, The French LifeTagged #armisticeday, #bayeau, #canada, #england, #france, #lensbaby, #normandy, #omahabeach, #operationoverlord, #photography, #veteransday, #wwII2 Comments

I’ve decided to dedicate a post to Veteran’s Day as our autumn trip to Normandy certainly made for an appropriate segue. In France and Great Britain, November 11th is heralded as Armistice Day including a moment of silence at 11:00 a.m. followed by ceremonies across the country to commemorate those who fell during WW I and II.

We motored by way of Tours to Bayeaux which is a lovely town with a stunning cathedral not far from the beaches of Normandy; we had a superb lunch in the town center, spending time pondering how much of this village was ravaged during the war. Thankfully, the cathedral had managed to survive, but we saw old buildings fused to new construction; you can always tell the difference despite the surprisingly authentic materials used here for new builds.

Driving through the Norman countryside we encountered classic French farms with cows, sheep and plowed fields; lovely hedgerows where so many skirmishes were staged during the war now housed birds and hedgehogs going about their daily business. The architecture of Normandy is tall and rather boxy with roofs made of slate. There is a distinct absence of the channel terracotta roofing tiles and pigeonniers so common to the south of France. Though Colombage homes (the architecture of our house) are popular in this area we didn’t see much which was surprising; I suspect they are further north.

All around us there was peace and calm, much like Pearl Harbor and Gettysburg so you have to summon the ghosts to get clarity on the carnage; the pain, the sacrifice…the horror.

Upon reflection, in 2022 and into 2023, we have visited many significant war memorials ranging from Pearl Harbor, Gettysburg, Arlington Cemetery, the Washington DC War Memorials and now Normandy, France. Oh…and let’s not forget Window Rock, AZ, home of the Navajo Code Talker Memorial; they were a significant force in winning the war in the Pacific.

Having made these efforts to explore such significant history, we have now truly internalized and echo the sentiment that “Freedom is not Free.”

April 27 – The Sea Remembers its Own

Lest we forget #pearlharbor #navajocodetalkers

Upon our arrival to the seaside, we found that Omaha beach and the surrounding cities are atypical coastal towns that, aside from the architecture, reminds me a lot of the Oregon coast with children playing on the beach like they would anywhere else. I enjoyed a mostly solitary stroll along the boardwalk, enjoying the sea breezes, the sway of the ocean and pondering the newer-build oceanfront villas.

The American Cemetery turned out to be pretty busy, and I was surprised at how many families along with their school-age children were there; it turns out they were on school holiday – one of the many that French children enjoy! Being off-season it was both surprising and comforting to see so many people from different nationalities attending. It was endearing watching the French families educating their children on the history of this place and pointing to the signs to be quiet and reverent; France was after all front and center during the war.

The solidarity here is palpable as you overlook the sea of crosses that seem as though they were placed just yesterday; pristine white as if they are lovingly polished on a daily basis. As we were later in the day we witnessed the lowering and folding of the flags, followed by taps which – as always – causes you to internalize the grief of the profound sacrifices made during D-Day and the ensuing months. As my father was a WWII vet (the Pacific) I always have to fight the tears.

Taps

Most of the cemetery is roped off, but you are allowed a smaller section to wander through the maze of tombstones, reflecting on these warriors, some who couldn’t even be identified; we asked ourselves – were they obliterated by a bomb? Argh. Though it would have proven too burdensome to ship so many remains back to America, over the decades most of these soldiers will be forgotten, yet, their legacy will remain for generations to come.

American Cemetery – Normandy Beach

The next day proved to be sunny and milder, but windy as we ventured to Gold Beach where the British and Canadian forces teamed up as part of Operation Overlord. They had constructed the “Mulberry B Artificial Harbor” just offshore that included “floating bridges” for the transport of vehicles and materials needed for the incursion. The remnants of the harbor are still visible during low tide. This operation was an astounding achievement of engenuity that is difficult to wrap your head around. And when you think that they didn’t have the resources that are available today, you can only marvel at the genius on display. It turned out to be a massive success, but not without a horrendous loss of life.

https://www.dday-overlord.com/en/media-library/photos/gold-beach/mulberry-b

We wandered around the beach peeking into the rusted remains of the bridges then headed to the village for a chocolat chaud.

It should be noted that all along this region of Normandy there are American, French, British and Canadian flags flown in solidarity; it gave me more comfort than the hot chocolate!

Sculptures at Gold Beach

Our next stop was the Bayeux Commonwealth Cemetery – equally, if not more heartbreaking, than the American one because you are not overwhelmed by the scale but by the intimacy. Due to the proximity to England I’m sure the British families wanted the bodies of their fallen to come home for a proper burial, but for those who remained the cemetery has proven to be a touching memorial that perhaps the families felt would give their beloved relatives an enduring legacy.

The memorial feels more like an English garden with roses still blooming around the headstones; they show the regiment with its accompanying symbol pain-stakingly carved into it followed by…this is the crippler…the name and age of the deceased. We saw several that were 19 or 20 years-old, some headstones fused to one another as they had died together. In addition to the British and Canadian graves, we saw Polish, Jewish, Arabic and one section dedicated to German soldiers. Like the American Cemetery, there were those that could not be identified.

Many of them had June 6th inscribed on them, then you would see post D-Day dates that stagger through August 1944; you really get a sense of the incursion beyond the initial launch of Operation Overlord.

Bayeux Commonwealth Cemetery

Subconsciously we knew that the majority that died were so young, but this memorial made it visceral.

As it is a Commonwealth Memorial I suspect it isn’t as frequented as the American Cemetery, but I encourage anyone who takes the time to come to this region of France to spend some time here as it’s in Bayeux. There is a lot to process here – it is a profound experience that you will not soon forget.

Thankfully we have “Saving Private Ryan” and the “Band of Brothers” along with a long stream of war movies to help us get a real sense of what it must have been like.

On a more recent note, I was curious as to why there was a fair amount of indictment against the movie “Lone Survivor” about Marcus Luttrell and the failed Seal Team mission in Afghanistan to hunt down a notorious Taliban leader; it seemed as though some viewers could not suspend their disbelief at the validity of the story and that it was just a Hollywood propaganda movie. I once had the privilege of working for an ex-Navy Seal who had been in covert ops (can’t imagine what his duty was!). Despite his level of intensity, I found I could have very grounded conversations with him. I had asked him about the movie and the response from IMDB, he smirked and let me know yes – it’s all true; most people cannot imagine that anyone would make that level of sacrifice. He also went on about how he couldn’t understand why so many incredibly fit recruits dropped out of Seal training; about how others who may not appear resilient but are incredibly so. What is the secret sauce?

I wish I knew the answer to his question, but I do know that those that have gone through extreme levels of adversity, as I have found in much of the refugee communities I have dealt with, have cultivated a level of resiliency and humility that is lacking in so many western societies today.

With all our modernization and freedoms, we have become complacent in so many ways, and perhaps we need better immersion into the adverse aspects of life to build the resiliency and humility of future generations. Especially after witnessing French parents actively teaching their children the significance of the seemingly endless sea of crosses that fanned out before them; that the beaches of Normandy weren’t always about bucolic summer breezes and building castles in the sand.

All the memorials we have visited were a sobering experience: If it weren’t for these brave souls making the ultimate sacrifice, I wouldn’t be enjoying the privileges I do now; the memorials are truly inspiring and should not be left to a mere documentary on Netflix.

They leave you with a profound sense that war is truly hell, but sadly we never really seem to learn the lesson. #neverforget

May 8 – July 4th Part Trois of our French integration con’t

Posted on July 3, 2023August 6, 2023 Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, Maison, maison de campagne, Photography, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged #cycling, #expat, #france, #lotetgaronne, #photography, #southwestfrance, #travel, #velo, #villereal4 Comments

We arrived home from our walkabout through Italy to a warehouse of boxes stored in the gite and busied ourselves unveiling an old life and melding it into the new one. While I had ideas of where to put things, it mostly fell into place organically as proportions and ideas are malleable and it was fun to play around with different concepts.

Then spring brought the thunderstorms consisting windy vortexes, lightning and occasional hail; one time a small river developed at the end of our property that soon dissipated into the neighbor’s farm. It was good to know where our property would potentially flood — thankfully that would be at the end of the property where it slopes into the neighboring field.

Pretty…but there is lightning in those clouds

Then suddenly it felt as though summer had arrived with the weather warming to near 80 degrees (25 c). Like Oregon, the mornings are cool, waking up to occasional mist covering the fields and valleys, barely muffling the birds who for now, wake us up gently with their morning ritual.

We have spent time with our new neighbors who live walking distance from us; a good walk though as there are acres between us and them. It has been invigorating getting to know these new friends and neighbors in this rather fantastical “hood.”

This included attending a Mad Hatter Party that included a lot of sugar (really good muffins and cake), and trying our hand at archery. Though I don’t have a day job I wouldn’t quit it to pursue a career as an archer.

We had the opportunity to visit a friend from Portland who was hiking the Camino de Santiago that was commencing in France then meandering into Spain. She was passing through Armignanc (home to the lovely, ancient brandy) and as she was within driving distance, we decided to take a trip down her way to catch up. She and her colleague had already done 500 of the 1000 miles of the trip! After a short but pleasant visit we bid farewell, leaving them with protein bars and electrolyte gels that they gratefully needed when they were caught short without an evening meal.

Bob’s sister and brother-in-law were set to arrive at the end of June, so we got busy again unpacking, sorting, painting, decorating – trying to make the gite habitable and figuring out where to put all our “stuff.”

When we needed a break, the terrace became an extension of our living room where we could flop in the Adirondack chairs (we brought with us!) with our tea and listen to the sounds of nature, and if the wind picked up, our favorite chimes blessed us with their soothing tune.

The mornings are particularly lovely.

Thankfully, Bob got his “CPAM” and is now enrolled in the French healthcare system. I, on the other hand, keep getting requests for information including a new copy of my passport since the one they have is unreadable. It’s not really clear why they made so many copies of it and how it got so mangled, but I bite my tongue and send what they need to complete my file. All of this is done manually and by snail mail. As they say on Mandalore “this is the way.”

During all this I acquired a lovely e-bike in anticipation of cycling the quiet backroads of our hood. I’m looking forward to getting back into cycling shape and taking some packed lunches to the chateaus in the area.

Then the pool arrived. This brought out our French neighbors from across the road and we had a chance to do some fractured-french-bonding as they speak no English. It’s quite something watching the pool land in our yard without taking out the power lines. Within a week they were to dig the hole and fit the pool. Well…this will be interesting to say the least.

A few days later, the “piscine” workers arrived with a digger, and unfortunately it rained for the three days they were excavating the area. I use the term excavate because there were decades of construction and roofing materials (tiles) from the gite that they had to dig through. Through the thunder, lightning and at some times torrential rain, the pool was installed. They did manage to level out where the garden was to go but the rains were followed by high, dry temperatures turning the mud into cement. We will compost heavily and when the rains return (and we will probably have some passing showers over the summer) we will be able to cultivate the garden for next year.

How it’s done in France

Otherwise we will be patient and figure out how to deal with the rather large display of tire tracks that have been sculpted into the lawn.

While all this hustling was happening, in a blink of an eye the sunflowers burst into bloom! We are surrounded on three sides and feel as though we are being spied on as their smiling personas keep a steady and unrelenting vigil over the fields.

Bob’s sister Kathryn, and her husband Bruce arrived just as the weather was warming up. In fact, the weather swung to the other end of the extreme bringing in a high pressure system of heat that eclipsed 90 degrees then fell back into the 70’s when they left! Thankfully they were not rained out and we had a lovely time cruising the countryside and spending an afternoon in Bergerac. Otherwise they decided to hang out with us and work on projects for which we are eternally thankful!!

We bid them a fond farewell, looking forward to another visit when they can do some actual lounging around the pool.

The next day a pool technician arrived to treat the water and get the filter working. The piscine was now ready for use! While the landscape is graveled in a rough and ready sort of way (we have to wait a year to do any credible landscaping as the surrounding earth needs to settle), we can still get some serious laps in.

Then, on a beautiful day with the temperatures in the 70’s we set out on a bike ride through the quiet back roads of Beausejour, cycling by fields of barley, beans and sunflowers, surrounded by the ubiquitous French stone farmhouses and crumbling structures smothered in vines that once held the bounty of a former era, making one feel like you were in a different time and place. I felt as though I was gliding along a slipstream; traveling through the ether of ancient lands and unerring traditions, disturbed only by the occasional modern mechanizations of a passing voiture (car). Not since I lived in Northeastern Washington State as a kid have I been surrounded by this level of beauty and solitude. I am now a thief of time, the flower-sentinels standing ready to defend those rarified moments as I recapture what was once lost to me.

And what did we do when we came back from the bike ride???

And if you’re too busy to get to the boulangerie in time, well never fear!

The French baguette – a national treasure

April 26 – May 7th Venice by way of the French Riviera

Posted on May 9, 2023May 9, 2023 Posted in Expatriation, France, Italy, Maison, Photography, The French Life, TravelTagged #photography, #travel, alps, castles, Expatriation, France, frenchriviera, gondola, Italy, milan, nice, venice, Verona1 Comment

Our container finally arrived – two weeks late and a day before our vacation to Venice by way of the French Riviera (Cote d’Azure).

The driver showed up an hour early! The rest of the team arrived soon after.

Though we had permission from the mayor (Marie) to block the road, we didn’t take into consideration the school bus so needed to do some maneuvering. Fortunately none of the farm tractors came our way so they must have gotten the message.

The French movers were a delight and they managed to correct my pronunciation as I directed them where the boxes needed to go. It was great practice! The gite is now a storage unit while the house has become a healthy repository of boxes we will be madly sorting through when we get back.

We realized we couldn’t get much of the furniture up the spiral staircase – but voila! The ladder had arrived and Bob, and with the assistance of our courageous peeps, were able to haul some of the pieces through the window of the pigeonnier.

All went well, and we were pretty depleted by the end of the day; after taking a break and offering whiskey and pizza to the team our last mission was to find the feet to the sofa – I really wanted to flop on my dear friend in front of the TV. Luckily, we found the “tool box” the movers had left – thank god!!! We both sighed a collective ahh as Bob leaned back in his recliner and I sunk into the sofa. OMG – is this for real?

I poured myself a healthy dose of Suntori Toki Whiskey that I found in Perigueux (my favorite, yes!!!), and zoned out – bliss.

Thankfully the movers got our dresser through the downstairs master bedroom window as it wouldn’t fit through the door – and then they assembled our bed😴. I love this bedroom set and you don’t find this style much here in France. It was amazing sleeping in our own bed and the mattress was a slice of heaven; the mattresses here are hard and I think it has caused me more aches and pains than I normally have (aging doesn’t help of course)

The next morning we managed to get a few things unboxed, and the house tidied and in some semblance of order before we left for vacation.

In a way I wish I was still there going through our stuff, yet with all our transition challenges and prepping for the arrival of our container I’m glad for the break; we will be away from our chores and distractions and we truly needed a respite from the transition fatigue. We are coming to the tail-end of chaos and heck, it isn’t like our stuff is going anywhere!!

Fortunately we had packed most of our travel luggage for vacation prior to the container arriving so we had to just throw a few items at the last minute and then toodled off to Perpignan near the Mediterranean coast. And…it was also my birthday!! My sister-in-law called from the UK and later my brother and sister-in-law in Seattle the following morning – such is our life overseas.

We didn’t do any real touring in Perpignan as we were too tired but we got a good look at Carcassonne and the “King’s Landing” cathedral ……we will be back as it’s only a few hours away and deserves closer inspection.

On our way to Nice we meandered along the Med and stopped in La Ciotat just north of Marseilles, and had a fabulous meal on the beach; I wound up having a hamburger and fries as I hadn’t had one forever and it was really good. It felt like “homey” food. The weather was in the 60’s which was perfect for just relaxing.

We got to our hotel in Nice with a view of the ocean.

After getting settled in we went for a stroll along the promenade to the huge shopping center that boasts most of the major designers and smattering of unique and familiar shops. I made a stop to the Body Shop and got myself some eau de cologne and bubble bath – it was time for some self care!

The landscape here reminds me a lot of California but the water is definitely bluer – hence the name Cote d’Azure. I can see why it would be a hotspot.

We were several miles from the center of Old Nice, so we caught an Uber (yes they operate here!) and headed to the downtown hotspots, the first stop was the flower market that did not disappoint.

There is also a smattering of unique shops with a conscious restraint from the kitsch – minimal casinos (there is a Hard Rock Cafe) and the tacky souvenir stores are kept to a minimum. The architecture is spectacular with beautiful fronts along the Promenade de Anglais, a mix of Parisian, art nouveau and the historic blue and white striped umbrellas on the beach.

Nice at its quintessential best – right before the hoards arrive

We hiked up to the gardens and cemetery for a view of the city and listened to the noon bells as they permeated the air.

The crowds were pretty thick and it was even high season, but we managed to squeeze in a nice lunch and finish promenading along the waterfront.

We loved Nice but like other popular destinations, it definitely gets crowded. The area around our hotel, which is more off the beaten track, was much quieter.

We headed out the next day to Verona, we had already dodged Cannes as the film festival was in full swing and was-to-be-avoided and headed towards Monaco – the land of the mega-rich. The landscape became dramatic, I mean up there with Zion and the Columbia Gorge. We passed by Menton and its “King’s Landing” cathedral overlooking the Med, stopped to pay our dues at the interminable toll stations and motored through to Italy and yes, another language. My mind thought it was going to explode as France was now my “new familiar.” It seemed odd to think of it that way!

The landscape was no less dramatic but this time there were green houses hanging from precipices and of course vineyards scaling impossible escarpments. We switched the radio to the Italian stations with their lively commentary. Then we passed a sign for the 45th parallel; we were miles away but on the same line as Oregon wine country.

We soon found ourselves in an agricultural area much like where we now live, with the Alps poking out from the North. There were rolling hills of vast fields with their churches enthroned atop the occasional villages and…then there were castles. I guess it wouldn’t be Europe without castles!

We passed by ruins – barns entwined by vegetation, in the middle of a perfectly manicured fields of barley. Besides the few RV’s we passed we suspected we were on a road not normally touristed, and like our adventure in the RV it was lovely to get the backroads perspective of this part of the country.

We arrived at the Crown Plaza in Verona, and set out the next day to navigate the old streets known for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. We were once again blessed with good parking karma as we found an obscure garage near the center😍

The arena, akin to the coliseum in Rome, with its ruinous facade just as equally captivating, was also a popular venue for famous operas and singers; sadly Peter Gabriel was to perform on the 20th of May! We vowed to come back to experience either a concert or opera.

The city, like so many others, is the usual retail mecca of big box stores. We pushed our way through the throngs of foreigners like us and found a quiet corner with a fabulous view of a nearby cathedral. The coffee in France and Italy is so good it will be difficult to go back to Starbucks – not that there is much in the offing in this area of Europe anyway☕️

We passed over the Ponte Pietra that was first constructed in 100 BCE and hiked up to Castel San Pietro. After taking in the sights and sounds, and also working up an appetite, we decided to grab lunch on the way back down at Re Teodorico with its incredible views of classical ancient terraces and structures that define Italy like no other country, such as the spires of cypresses that offset the homes and villas.

Poor resolution of a great view gave the image a painterly affect!

On our way back we wondered if was even worth trying to find “Juliette’s Balcony,” made famous by Shakespeare’s play. It’s not really something that existed except in someone’s imagination and was built specifically to tease up more tourism. As we approached the site, we were met with wall to wall bodies lined up to get their chance to view the “famous” balcony – we both decided to pass on the opportunity. I don’t typically need bragging rites on where I’ve visited anyway; I prefer to journal my experiences and share them with those who are interested.

The next day, on our way out of Verona we stopped by Soave (yes, you guessed it, the famous wine region) with its castle and vineyards; we picked up some wine for drinking in France since you mostly get only French wine in the shops 🧐. We stopped in for a simple lunch and then headed for our next stop – staying at a villa complete with a vineyard and not far from Venice.

Bob had been recovering from a sinus infection that I apparently had acquired and I was feeling pretty wicked by the time we reached the villa – Castello de Roncade; I was concerned I would have trouble visiting Venice which has always been on my bucket list. Luckily, after a good night’s sleep I was feeling better and we set out to navigate one of the most popular venues in Europe.

A rain front was coming through and we had planned a dinner at the upscale Danieli Terrazza Restaurant and had to figure out how to get dressed for a formal dinner after touring Venice in the rain🫣, but not to be daunted we carried an extra bag of clothes (wrinkle free!).

The weather certainly didn’t seem to deter of the tourists too much, and we pushed our way through the narrow alleys and crowded bridges, the chaos supplanted by a vast array of umbrellas.

When we finally arrived at the famous Piazza San Marco, the crowds had appeared to thin out so we took a time out for some tea that turned out to be 15 Euros a cup!!! I guess because you can sit and enjoy the view while listening to the live band play popular movie themes.

After I cleaned up in the hotel bathroom (a rather posh one as well) we had a lovely dinner; we were a bit disappointed that it was raining as we had hoped to sit on the terrace and watch the world go by – but no complaints, we enjoyed a fabulous meal that topped off our culinary experiences in Italy.

We took a “water bus” back to the Pizzale Roma where the parking structure is. Note that it is pretty simple to drive into Venice, park your car and walk into the city. Or you can catch one of the many water buses or taxis at the dock. The water bus takes longer but is much less expensive than taking the cool looking taxis that zoom along the canal – like those in James Bond movies.

The water bus proved to be a revelation as we were able to see the city at night which is quite something. You could spend days wandering around, experiencing the many hidden gems that Venice has to offer.

The next day proved to be clear and we set out to do some shopping and also had booked a tour of the basilica and the doge’s palace.

As we wanted to do a gondola ride (really, as touristy as it sounds it’s a great way to get a different perspective on Venice) and snagged one just off one of the canals. They were being scooped up fast so we were glad to get one and opted for a longer ride through the back “alleys” then onto the grand canal.

The idea of Venice is simply mesmerizing when you think of it being an ancient trading hub, and how the buildings were constructed around the concept of water. There is a conglomeration of cultures here, a melding of Roman, middle eastern and african cultures, like an exotic spice that can’t be categorized so easily. Venice’s cultural influences are as intricate as the filigreed facades and walkways that terminate at the water’s edge.

Our gondolier told us that up until the bridges were built, the only way Venetians could reach their homes were by boat. Floating by the houses we saw doors to what could only be a “water garage” – many had decayed at the bottom; there was probably no reason to replace them at this point.

After we departed from our excursion, we headed to our tour of the basilica. St. Mark’s Basilica is as incredible on the interior as it is on the exterior with gold mosaics reflecting a warming glow in a heavenly manner – as I suspect was intended. The terracing of different levels is something out of a dream and to imagine the engineers who masterminded all this centuries ago is simply mind boggling. This could have been just another European cathedral; after a while one looks much the same as the others. But no, this is in a class all by itself; a fitting reflection of what makes Venice so unique.

As we wound through the different levels we came to the bronze horses that were no less mystifying when you consider their scale and age.

We finished the tour at the doge’s palace which proved to be exceptionally ornate, but not as fascinating as the basilica.

Now that we were done with our tour, we decided to visit La Commedia where authentic Venetian masks are made…and of course picked one up. You have to be careful as there are plenty of shops who will gladly sell you cheap knockoffs made in China. The one we purchased is made out of paper mache with a lovely crown of feathers. I also managed to grab a Murano glass bead necklace and bracelet. These purchases weren’t overly expensive and came with certificates of authenticity and will be welcome reminders of the beauty and uniqueness of Venice.

We finished the night at a restaurant recommended by Stanley Tucci’s – Searching for Italy called Osteria AI 4 Feri Stoti tucked away by one of the canals; a lovely setting to round out the day. We had the ubiquitous Aperol Spritzer which is quite good; mixed with prosecco and sparkling water it makes for a lovely warm weather cocktail. It is quite popular here and seeing so many folks drinking it we thought we would give it a try. We of course wound up buying a bottle of Aperol.

The next morning we bid farewell to our stately villa and its lovely grounds, and headed out to Milan – the final stop on our tour.

You can view our tour of Venice here:

Visual Tour of Venice

On the way to Milan we decided to visit Padua for lunch. While not a city many would consider visiting, it turned out to have some pretty impressive cathedrals and canals. The weather was lovely and we stopped for lunch with a fantastic view and then headed for our hotel in Milan.

Padua and really cool looking cathedrals we were able to stare at during lunch

There is a certain level of madness that comes with Italian cities such as Milan; we drove through the maze of cars and too many scooters and motorcycles until we reached the cathedral or Metropolitan Cathedral-Basilica of the Nativity of Saint Mary. Yet another impressive structure but we decided not to enter as we hadn’t thought through booking ahead.

Stunning cathedral with really long name in Milan

We strolled through the famous Galleria Victtorio Emanuele II, the super elegant shopping center with stores out of my price range; Gucci, Chanel what have you, they are there as installations as well as being stores.

Being a fashion capital Milan cannot be outdone along with tour buses galore with many visiting from Korea or Japan, their passengers dressed vogue-style. After wading through the crowds, we shuffled off to a quiet bistro for lunch – out of the noise and constant stream of cigarettes and vaping which wasn’t doing my sinuses any favors. I was starting to feel pretty ragged and wound up spending the rest of the afternoon napping at the hotel.

We headed out the next day for the first stage of our trip back to France via Mont Blanc and its famous tunnel that connects Italy to France. The alps and their chalets were post-card perfect, complete with alpine meadows. The arid, clear air was a welcome relief and the landscape stimulating. You can view the video here:

Visual tour of Mont Blanc

Arrivederci Italy!! Until next time.

Mar 1 – April 25 2023 Beausejour – Part Two of our French Integration

Posted on April 24, 2023April 24, 2023 Posted in Dordogne, Expatriation, France, France, French, Maison, Photography, The French Life, TravelTagged Expat, France, Maison, VillerealLeave a comment

It’s early March and the weather is cold…as in biting cold, but it is clear with a layer of frost dusting the nearby fields. I take a moment to survey my surroundings, but my revelry is suddenly interrupted as I find myself running frantically out to the road to flag down the Darty (appliance store) delivery truck. They are here to deliver our new washer, dryer, freezer and small appliances; apparently our home is a bit difficult to find even when they have the address plugged into the GPS…seems I don’t have to worry too much about being stalked in this part of the world. I have now learned, through trial and error, to add the GPS coordinates in addition to the address in the delivery instructions, otherwise I get somewhat frantic calls in French from the drivers who apologize for their poor English (while I apologize… tres desole…sorry for my poor French). I also went as far as putting a sign on the front door to leave the packages in our absence (in French of course) – unlike the delivery methods used in America where the UPS or Amazon truck shows up and delivers your items on the front porch sans your presence, France seems to have a love for a vast variety of delivery services who require signatures upon arrival. This limits my options of being out and about as they don’t always commit to a time or day, and if they do, they don’t always abide by that commitment (we had been warned about the “French way of doing things” and they are living up to their reputation). So this “hack” of leaving a sign turned out to be the biz, and serves as permission to just leave any packages on the terrace (assuming they can find the place). The one company that has demonstrated reliability is Ikea, who definitely gives you a date and a window which works out well assuming they can even find our house. I also keep the GPS coordinates handy to text the drivers back once we politely conclude at the end of the conversation we can’t understand one another: Je text les coordonnées GPS etc.

Ahh…but we have finally arrived to Beauséjour – meaning “beautiful stay” and the road sign even confirms that we are indeed in a special part of the world. On the day we were scheduled to sign off on the house we did a “walk through” with our realtor and the previous owner. We learned some interesting stories about the history: For insurance purposes we had stated the structures were built in the early 1800’s as there weren’t any official records going back before the 1900’s. Urban legend has it that the fleur-de-lis and shield carved on both sides of the rather large fireplace was placed there during the stay of King Francois the 1st back in the early 1500’s – if this is true (since the symbols depict royalty) that would indicate that the house was built in the 15th century and around 400 hundred years old!

Though we are not even close to being a grand chateau (technically meaning castle) by any means, in rural France a pigeonnier is a sign of wealth along with the scalloping accents on the side of the house.

Subtle scalloping on the side of the house

We were also advised that the surrounding farmland used to belong to this particular maison; so while the house itself has similar proportions to our home in Portland, due to the pigeonnier and the accompanying symbology, it used to belong to wealthy landowners.

The ancient Colombage timbers that sustain the structures have since been reinforced without losing any of the original character and are treated for termites. We have also found our recent furniture purchases from the “Brocantes” (antique market furniture and so much fun to shop at those!) to be a bit wobbly as the floors aren’t exactly level in some places. Add to that the flaws that come from our “new purchases” and we find ourselves retrofitting to give our surfaces a bit of stability. The china cabinet is a great size as most we’ve seen have been quite large. The rustic workbenches are popular and this one was actually refinished and is a perfect addition to our entryway!

I am now also being indoctrinated to the idea of radiators and how this whole system works. The boiler is down the “cellar” along with a large community of spider webs. It is here we have also deposited the extra freezer and washer; we are on a septic system (known as a fosse here), and the washer was built to drain from the cellar to the septic. Yes we do have to walk around the side of the house but we are, after all, in the country in a several-hundred-year-old maison so you have to make some concessions. We will eventually be upgrading to solar and split air conditioning units in anticipation of the long warm summers – with climate change we are told the temperatures are on the rise and will also reduce our personal drag on the grid.

We have a little under an acre of land and Bob was chomping at the bit for a rider mower, also known as a “tandeuse.” Yes, we are back to the gardening frenzy we’re so fond of and we have plenty of work to do. Unfortunately, our gardening tools are in the shipping container that isn’t scheduled to arrive until mid April, so off we go to “Jardiland” (jardin is garden in French so do the math) to pick up a few odds and ends to tide us over. Bob managed to snag a nice mower that was soon delivered and he disappeared into the ether of gardening bliss, trolling the property from the lofty heights of his new toy while cursing the interminable dandelions.

I have been busy painting and kitting out our new utility room; there isn’t much in the way of storage in the main house so I took one of the bedrooms (there are four and just the two of us – much like our house in Portland) and am designing a laundry/pantry/general storage room. I soon discovered (as many have here), that paint is quite expensive for whatever reason and the mat colors aren’t up to much when it comes to coverage. So while we are eating on the cheap because the markets and general cost-of-living are just so insanely good here, we get dinged in other departments.

The dryer we bought does not require venting (it collects the condensation in a plastic basin that you discard down the drain) so you can plug it in anywhere – a clever euro design. We also ordered IKEA units to complete the storage area; you can always joke about IKEA but the storage units we ordered are of good quality. And an extra refrigerator because the one we have is pretty dang small.

Voila! A few more touch ups and additions and we will be in laundry and storage domestic bliss. I love getting new appliances as the ones we divested prior to leaving Portland were getting a bit worn anyway.

As spring is starting to roll in, we have experienced some pretty epic thunderstorms – I mean thunder, lightning, wrath-of-god type stuff – thankfully the shutters are really effective for keeping the rain at bay; I mean it gets really horizontal and blows a gale. But France, like so much of the rest of the world, really needs rain and we are glad for it when it arrives. The trees are starting to leaf out and we are seeing blossoms in the garden. And bees, we are surrounded by them and they are starting to inhabit the mason bee houses we bought. When we are not outside listening to the music of nature we are enjoying our new hi-speed fiber connection; it’s amazing that they have run these systems out into the rural communities. We are starting to feel more grounded and can crash on our (temporary) sofa and watch our favorite shows after a long day working on the property = spoiled.

We are on the 45th parallel so we see many of the same plants as you find in Portland. Our garden is large and the prior owners were British and planted a cornucopia of plants that are unfortunately being invaded by weeds; luckily we are retired, but even with that notion the tasks ahead of us seem a bit overwhelming.

When we take a break around noon, with our tea on the terrace, the birds and bees are performing their orchestral obligations and we can hear the bells toll from the nearby church of our local commune. It is times like these that we look out of our property into the vast farmlands and says yes – Beauséjour!!

In rural France we are oblivious to the rioting in Paris sparked by new legislation to the raise in pension age to 64…we are so far removed and frankly had enough conflict in Portland a few years back. Experiencing this level of peace and quiet is like developing new senses.

Of course, it’s not all bliss; as we are now officially grounded with a permanent address, we are now receiving mail at our new place. I have a mail forwarding service in the States and we had to have a few packets of important tax docs sent to us. The La Poste lady (very cheery as well) shows up one day with one of our packets and asks for 9 euros. We are a bit mystified, and we come to find out that “registered” mail, or what they perceive as “registered mail” is subject to additional fees. So we had to dig up 9 euros in change and if you don’t have exact change she will take what you have, then leave what is owed in your mailbox. Fortunately this hasn’t happened with any other mail🙄

Then…our French HSBC banking cards finally arrived (after five months!) and we had to drive to Bordeaux to gather them only to find out that we didn’t have the correct PIN codes. Long story, but they have PIN codes for online purchases, for your app and for your credit card and you can’t change them. Our sister-in-law in Seattle took time out of her busy day to convey the information we needed…while I was told all the information would be sent to Bordeaux, they sent the PIN codes to the address in Seattle. C’est la vie accompanied by a shrug – it’s France. This is the contrasting nature of the place we live in. So now we have two bank accounts which is not a bad thing considering the state of the banking business overall – due to the dual taxation and reporting laws, some Americans have difficulty getting a single account set up when they arrive here. And though we had our BNP Paribas cards we didn’t get our checkbook for another month and that wasn’t until we checked in and found out they hadn’t gotten around to “processing it yet.”

We are also still grappling with getting into the healthcare system; they must have misplaced Bob’s birth certificate (during the appointment we specifically handed it to them of which they made a copy) yet like our banking process, they are requesting it once again – via snail mail. Considering the delicate nature of a birth certificate we are opting to drive to the office in Perigueux to (once again) present both the original and translated version so they can process the file…sigh. They did confirm they received the document but then I received a letter stating they needed information for my file that I already gave them – as they say in Mandalorian “it is the way.” The hotline did confirm I do have a number and we are finishing up the processing on Bob’s number. Soon we will have a “Carte de Vitale,” and will be in the French healthcare system!

But….of course…there’s more! I have been scheduled for my Visa appointment to get my official Carte de Sejour (official long stay Visa card), but Bob hasn’t received his yet. Fortunately they have an English-language help line – even with that the French bureaucracy is not for the faint of heart. Bon courage – we will get through all of this in the next few months.

In France the 80/20 rule is definitely in full swing: Americans relocating here should not come with lofty expectations on when things are due to arrive or be processed – this is true 80% of the time. We are surprised when something arrives when scheduled such as Ikea, or when our Orange hi-speed internet was installed and has been working like a charm – the exception rather than the rule! No American entitlements here!

Quirks aside, what I do find impressive is being able to recycle everything here; just down the road we have a garbage and recycling center that we visit a few times a week to drop off standard stuff. For batteries, light bulbs, ink cartridges etc. we take those when we go shopping at one of the bigger cities (Bergerac or Villeneuve-sur-Lot) and they have them in the shopping centers. For bigger drop offs we go to the local “dechetterie” and deposit cardboard (for all the new stuff we have been acquiring), yard waste etc. The French love bureaucracy and it spills over into their love for the environment; it’s incredibly impressive.

I continue to do painting to freshen up areas of the house so when the furniture arrives we won’t have to move it for a while. The upstairs floors were gasping for some TLC and I stained and waxed one of the bedrooms so again – when the furniture eventually arrives it can have a stationary home. They came out beautiful!

Our container has finally arrived!!!! As always seems to be our luck it will be unloaded the day before we leave for our vacation so it will be “a dump and run.” This will be a story for another day as we are off to Venice by way of the (Cote d’Azure) French Riviera😍🍝🍷 for a much needed break from our “transition challenges.” Stay turned for updates on our European road trip!

Feb 2023 – Ode to Prats du Perigord, Bonjour Nouvelle Maison

Posted on March 6, 2023March 6, 2023 Posted in Expatriation, France, France, French, Maison, Photography, TravelTagged #photography, #travel, frenchcountry, livinginfrance, Maison1 Comment

Every morning at 7 a.m. the church bells ring down in the village of Prats du Perigord, the echoes are permeable as the sky is clear and frost grips the land, remaining polar until the sun rises to loosen the ribbons of sleep. Then formations emerge through the orange and blue, awaking the kaleidoscope of day.

It’s February but It feels more like spring, more like what March would feel like in my former city of Portland, Oregon. There is no rain in sight for the coming days. The garden (jardin) centers are coming alive and the locals are even threatening to cut the grass. It is still technically winter but no one has apparently informed the inhabitants of Southwest France; except for those who still had their Christmas decorations up until the end of January.

Here we remain unconcerned about the protests in Paris, the insistence that raising the retirement age to 64 is certainly the end of civilization as we know it, and many of the French insist they will be too old to enjoy their golden years. France has the lowest retirement age in all of Europe, and they enjoy some of the best systems such as their healthcare, but it certainly doesn’t come for free. Paris has been in a gridlock for weeks now as the unions take to the streets and halt services such as le metro (Mon dieu!!).

One of the highlights of our continuing integration is that we finally figured out how to use the car wash – this was accomplished by spying on the local population: Unlike the system in the US where you pay and then drive through, here, you drive up to the wash itself, make sure you are secure against “bump ” that triggers the green light, exit your car and the pay at the kiosk. We were wondering why people were lounging around the waiting area while their car was being washed. The system is rather clever as the mechanism runs back and forth over your car while it remains stationary. No more fun of driving through! We now have a clean car💖

We decided it was time for another side trip to visit the local sites – this time we ventured to the medevial city of Belvès, spending the afternoon wandering around and then settling in for a cup of coffee. Much is still closed up and we are wait in great anticipation when the cafe and shop owners start to open up and their wares spill out into the streets.

Meandering the ancient streets of Belvès

As we forge new relationships, we found ourselves spending a post-Valentines Day brunch at our friend’s lovely country house (once again), indulging in her local dishes, learning the French way of dining and surveying the garden with ideas for the impending spring.

We continue our daily french language studies complemented by a weekly visit to Monpazier (which we discovered was part of the set of Ridley Scott’s “The Last Duel” and is now a set for a french film) for a more interactive lesson. We have cultivated some new acquaintances and are becoming a local at a cafe that sports a fair amount of American retro art deco-like posters that makes me feel right at home.

We hadn’t ventured much into the fast food arena here and then much to my horror: Krispy Kreme and Popeye’s announced they will be opening up their fast food joints here in France. I was never a fan of Kristy Kreme, and well the patisseries are to die for here😍 so do the math! Yet, McDonald’s is seriously popular in France, especially with the youth. Upon further research they source all their food locally, it’s organic and they are highly regulated by the EU meaning sans the preservatives, hormones etc….so a bit better than the overprocessed American version. But still! But we got curious and had to check it out and the food tastes much less processed than in the states; even the salads are something you would find in a nice bistro. While they do drive-through, the french are fond of their two hour lunch and you will find them lounging at the local McDonalds while they are being served their food in recyclable containers – even the french fries come in a signature McDonald’s plastic molded cup!

Another hurdle we finally overcame was the opening of our French bank account at BNP Paribas. It was a welcome relief as all the French government systems require this and setting up our house for the electrical, heating etc. requires an account as well. While this came as a welcome relief we still hadn’t seen our bank cards for a couple of weeks. I called our agent’s office and got her assistant who spoke a little english but managed to navigate me through the phone app to get a message to her. Alas, this is France and our agent profusely apologized saying the drugs from her dental appointment caused her to somehow lose her memory. We were running low on Euros and don’t like using our American credit cards as we get dinged with the current conversion depending on the strength of the dollar. We can however do direct transfers from our bank to certain retailers, more so at point-of-sale rather than online so we have been able to maneuver around our current handicap – at least for now.

As we were in Bergerac it was the perfect day to meander the historic town center, accompanied by Cyrano himself. We will be spending more time here with friends, shopping, enjoying cafe chats and long walks along the river.

Our cards finally arrived in a few days and I was able to go on a bit of a shopping spree as we had furniture we needed delivered to the new digs.

March 1st marked the closing of our house followed by the appointment with the local office to enroll in the French Healthcare system. Once we get their version of a social security number (not to be confused with the American version), which is used specifically for healthcare, we will be issued our Carte Vitale and be able to finally set up an appointment with a general practitioner. This will get us into the network of specialists we are eager to connect with.

We will miss the hikes through the woods and green spaces of Prats du Perigord, surrounded by working farms, the horses, donkey, dogs and goose (just one!). Our initial immersion into France has been as equally lovely as it has been frustrating; the difference is the latter is temporary while the former will be an enduring experience for the rest of our lives.

The weather turned cold again, with heavy frost and even a dusting of snow but nothing compared to what the west coast of the United States was enduring. Reflecting on our situation this time last year, I realized we could have been stuck in Portland or in Santa Rosa as we wouldn’t have been able to get through to the Alabama Hills in California with our RV. Back in the 70’s I remember one storm that blasted through Southern California and for the first time you could see the mountains – we had a small respite from the horrific Los Angeles smog of that era.

The day of our signing finally arrived and we powered through it at the Notaire in Villereal with no incident and were handed our keys. Voila! We owned a house in France!

Yet we couldn’t go play at the house as we had an hour drive for our healthcare appointment, and we had to finish packing up and cleaning up the gite. That took up Thursday and Friday and then we finally arrived for good on Saturday morning; it was early and crispy cold, but here, the landscape sweeps you along its sensual curves to deposit you at its doorstep, ignoring your protests. The sun was also very accomodating; it decided there would be no contest as it emerged to celebrate this glorious day.

After years of dreaming, copious amounts of planning, being in a constant state of (and many times exhausting) transition for a year….we had finally arrived. More to come on our homeowner experience.

After managing some delivery faux pas (like a bed), we settled in for our first night and even managed to get the Wi-Fi going, averting a potential disaster🙄

I awoke early on Sunday, and as I walked down the hallway I could hear the crowing of a rooster, the national symbol of France.

A Glorious Sunrise to Greet Our New Life

French Integration – Part One cont’d

Posted on January 31, 2023January 31, 2023 Posted in Dordogne, Expatriation, France, France, Photography, The French Life, TravelTagged #dordogne, #france, #photography, #sarlatdecaneda, #travel, #trufflesLeave a comment

It’s amazing to think we have only been in France for a little over two months! It started off with such a whirlwind of activity in our attempts to get ramped up quickly – driven partly by mitigating expenses related to car and gite rentals. We had literally been all over the place in 2022; our RV trip through US and Canada including a break in Hawaii, then onto France, then onto the UK for holidays. Though it has been a profoundly great adventure, we are looking forward to a more stationary lifestyle in 2023😍

The exciting news is we signed the sales agreement for our house! We are hoping to take possession by the end of February or beginning of March. The shipper has also informed us that our household goods are scheduled to be delivered at the beginning of April. We are excited about the prospect of getting settled in🏡

In the meantime we are catching up with new friends, taking long walks, working on our french lessons including the rather involved process of getting a license, and of course further exploring our new surroundings.

On Bob’s birthday we attended the truffle festival or “Truffle Fete” in Sarlat. The majority of attendees were sporting a glass of wine and partaking in the “street food” where local chefs whipped together culinary delights using the famed black truffle found in the Perigord region. It was a cold but clear day – the French are hardy people and endured long lines and outdoor dining to enjoy this rather indulgent event. It is a great social gathering for the area, evidenced by the groups of friends huddled around the wine barrels.

This exploration resulted in a weekend of culinary experimentation that included fabulous omelets and linguini with white cream sauce and shaved truffle. We of course acquired a “Truffle Shaver” that is also great for shaving hard cheeses and chocolate.

I also did the very French thing of driving to the local boulangerie in St. Pompon (a small lovely village not far from us) to acquire a banquette for dinner as we wanted a fresh one (of course!!). Much of rural France shuts down on Sundays – even the major stores are only open until around noon. Many of the smaller stores are closed on Monday as well so you have to plan accordingly. As it was Sunday, I needed to get to the boulangerie before noon. St. Pompon was virtuallydevoid of people when I arrived; I think the only activity is Sunday services but even that seems pretty thin.

The French keep their Christmas lights up for the first few weeks of January and when we found ourselves driving back in the dark, we were delighted by the light festivals we encountered; the local villages take pride in the festival accomplishments!

Later in the week we ventured off to Villeneuve sur Lot to take advantage of the bi-annual sales in France. Here they hold them twice a year to move inventory that is marked down but not allowed to go below the price they purchased it for. It’s not like they don’t have sales, but this is when they really blow through their inventory.

Our realtor had referred us over to some great bilingual contacts at local appliance and furniture stores in Villeneuve sur Lot who would allow us to buy now and then ship when we get into the house.

Since we couldn’t bring our American appliances and of course, the larger ones were out of the question, we bought a good quality washer and dryer, a small “cabinet” or upright freezer with pull out drawers!!!!! I really hated sorting through our chest freezer back in Portland…. We also bought an air fryer, food processor, LG Smart TV (a really nice one to enhance our viewing experience!) and a temporary platform bed and mattress to transfer to the gite when our stuff arrives from the US. With the new (yet seriously old) house we are doing a much needed reboot of everything that should last us for quite a while.

On our way back to the gite, we drove through torrential rain that turned to slush and then to snow. We got home just in time as the snow was just starting to stick to the back roads. We lit the fire and watched the snow come down in an ethereal waltz. We woke the next morning to bright blue skies and several inches of snow. We saw the local farmers plowing the backroads as they are not managed by the transportation division who were focusing on the main roads.

We took a delightful walk with the snow lighting up the already arresting landscape.

We have been keeping moderately busy. I’m still processing my surroundings; there are days when it’s clear and beautiful and I walk along the insanely quiet country trails and roads – only occasionally interrupted by a passing car. The area is mostly deciduous, but there are copses of large beautiful pine trees, reminiscent of cedar with their draping bows. The smell of pine permeates the air as I stroll by – reminding me of the Pacific Northwest.

Anywhere we drive there are chateaus and farms; even on days of inclement weather, especially when the fog clings to the lowlands, we are surrounded by an other-worldly mural. It seems more like a time warp as we meander through the ancient communes, some so small they don’t even have a boulangerie!

When we pass by crumbling buildings and walls, we often wonder how old they are and did they house farm animals? Have these same pastures been tended for centuries?

Then we take an alternative backroad and find ourselves approaching a thriving metropolis of grand buildings, cathedrals and cobblestone streets that beg to be explored. Then a chateau emerges in all its glory.

We took an afternoon to explore one such structure – Castelnaud – a huge castle harking back to the 12th century.

We had floated by it when canoeing down the Dordogne in 2020; it is constructed at a towering height, emerging from the cliff itself. It is a true medieval marvel complete with a museum displaying armor, weapons and the “vogue” fashion of the day. With its sigils buffeting the wind, and the towers overlooking the breathtaking Dordogne valley, you are taken back to a time of chevaliers (knights in shining armor) and princesses.

One of the things I love about retiring, besides the freedom, is being able to sleep in. We are both early birds but the idea of not being on a compressed time schedule and rushing to catch the bus or light rail, and then enduring a long day at work – which then required an additional hour commute – is a blessing I embrace with gratitude daily.

Upon reflection, when we were in the RV, we were always on the go; we could sleep in but typically had to pack up in a few hours and head out to our next destination. Now it seems we are spending more time “putzing” around, working on our house plans, studying and attending french lessons and other items necessary for our French integration.

It is not without its challenges as we work to enroll ourselves into the national healthcare system and work on our driving licenses, and being otherwise impatient to get into our news digs. And we finally connected with a local bank in Bergerac; BNP Paribas who is opening up accounts for us (we were referred through an American contact we met through our network). We are still waiting, yes waiting for months, for HSBC to open our account; they hadn’t processed our paperwork from October, resulting in us having to resend the information. We have been told that was all they needed and will let us know when it’s done being processed; they will then send the documents to the branch in Bordeaux. Sigh.

You hear many Americans lamenting about finding a bank who will take them; the FACTA rules are such that reporting can be a burden that many reps at French banks do not want to take on.

To further occupy our time,we have also been spending time in local cities that are not far from us to get a feel of the place; the bistros, shopping areas and green spaces that run along the many rivers. We visited “Mr. Bricolage” which is actually the French version of Home Depot! It’s fascinating walking through the tool sections and seeing name brands such as Stanley, Black and Decker and Ryobi, then discovering the eccentricities of how the French do things such as lots of vinyl material for making your own window blinds. We will need to make our own fly screens here as the windows open inward so you can reach the shutters to block the light on hot days. Our new house has some blinds installed already so we can be less reliant on the external shutters if needed; but while the French don’t mind flies in their house, we are not so accommodating!

We hope to be in our house within the next 4-5 weeks – stay tuned!

December 31, 2022 Recapping an Extraordinary Year

Posted on December 31, 2022January 1, 2023 Posted in #rvlife, France, National Parks, Photography, The French Life, TravelTagged #england, #france, #happynewyear, #leisurevans, #photography, #travel1 Comment

It has been a year since I officially retired from the workforce. After 48 years it came as a welcome relief. Yet, there were several challenges ahead that included selling off furniture and appliances we did not need for our relocation to France, and prepping the house for sale. We had lived in St. John’s for 22 years in our lovingly renovated 1923 Craftsman Bungalow. Anyone who has gone through this transition can understand the emotional ups and downs associated with relinquishing the nostalgia of time spent in a place you have dedicated so much of your life to.

We then set out for what would be a 27,000 mile long journey through the US and Canada, all of which is chronicled on my blog.

I have compiled a slideshow highlighting our travels: We are often asked “what was your favorite place?” It’s not something that can be answered easily – the national parks, monuments and sites we visited were all incomparable; they are unique unto themselves and I urge everyone to travel to as much of North America as they can. You will realize the conundrum of that question when you see where we have been!

One of our more significant stays was on Oahu where I was able to trace my father’s WWII legacy from the Royal Hawaiian on Waikiki Beach to Pearl Harbor: I dedicated a special write up on my blog for those interested!

Part of the challenge also included selling our house – we managed to close while we were on the road in Canada, signing the final papers in Fairbanks, AK right before the market started to cool down; we counted our blessings on the timing!

At the end of September, after months of being on the road we were able to take a breather upon our return to Portland. We had a bit of a fretful wait while waiting for our French long-stay Visas. Fortunately, we had given ourselves enough time for the French to do their processing which allowed us enough elbow room to wind down our life in the U.S.; visiting friends, family and familiar haunts…and bidding our final farewells.

We landed in France mid-November and got ourselves settled in a gite, traversed the Dordogne until we landed on a lovely Colombage house in Lot et Garonne (about two hours from Bordeaux). We then set out to spend the holidays with family in the UK where we celebrated and English-style Christmas with family and spent time hiking through Malvern with its beautiful priory and countryside.

The Priory – Darwin’s daughter is buried here

We also visited famous sites such as Stratford on Avon, the home of William Shakespeare and its amazing holiday lights.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve, we motored around the English countryside in Kathryn’s Mini. We ended 2022 with a traditional cream tea followed by fish and chips – wrapping up the year in an authentically British manner!

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year and wonderful 2023!!

FocalDreams

Category: Photography