Tag: paris

France 2025 Travel Review

Posted on Posted in Expatriation, France, French, National Parks, Photography, The French LifeTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave 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

European Christmas Markets and Farewell to 2024 

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We rang in the holidays with a Thanksgiving feast courtesy of our American friends in Bergerac; complete with turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.  It was a gathering of American, British and French and proved to be a delightful afternoon immersed in the taste of nostalgia.

Though we had expected to stay put post-Africa, as it turned out, friends and family from the UK decided to take a trip to Bruges, Belgium to visit the famous Christmas Market.  We decided to make the two day trip to catch up and enjoy some libation with a commitment we would be staying pretty much put in France for 2025…hopefully.

We stayed at one of our favorite, classic hotels on the way; all done up in a festive manner with the impossibly high ceilings and the ambiance of a classic chateau; this helped us get into the Christmas spirit.  And thankfully, unlike last year, the weather wasn’t a contrast deluge of precipitation.

The next day we met up with the folks in Coquille near Calais for a nice meal. We then ventured the next morning into Belgium. Unfortunately, it was rather cold and windy which put a bit of damper (excuse the pun) on our visit, but found Bruges to be rather charming all the same.  And we managed some lovely Belgian Waffles (with the best chantilly cream!) and some chocolates (I mean we are in Belgium!).  

Not an American knock-off!!

Bruges is a place worthy of exploring outside of the holiday season and we hope to get back up there someday to meander the lovely streets, shops, restaurants and canals.  So much to see!!!

What goes up must come down and when Paris just happens to be on the way home…well it makes sense to do a “drive by” because one never tires of the City of Light.  

We stayed south of Paris (who wants to park in Paris😁) at the Holiday Inn Paris Velizy not far from Versailles and caught the T6 tram line (walking distance from the Holiday Inn) to the RER C train which was actually pretty seamless; we disembarked at Invalides and voila – you exit the underground next to the Seine and into Parisian glory that warms you on even the coldest and grayest of days.  

Cold but Beautiful

The Christmas Market is located in the Tuileries next to the Place de Concorde which is about a mile away.  It  was nice (seems most fitting for those with children), but there are so many distractions in Paris that you can easily get sidetracked for vast periods of time.  

Distractions in the form of Haute Couture

We arrived right after the opening of her majesty Notre Dame, but weren’t able to get tickets.  I guess we’ll have to go back (ha!); it was lovely seeing the spires from the river though.  

We then made our way up the Champs de Elysee to do some shopping (mostly window really), and happened upon a lovely cafe attached to L’Occitane (yep, the same one you are thinking of).  Here we indulged in a Parisian high art dessert…this is what has always impressed me about France – especially Paris; it’s as if they have to compete with those in the culinary theater to exceed all expectations.  So there!

Cafe at l’ Occitanie

After traversing a good 8 miles of eye candy, window shopping and taking in the festive sights of the Parisian streets all dressed up for the holidays – under the watchful eye of La Tour Effiel, we headed across the always astounding Pont Alexander III to the metro. 

We vowed to come back in the spring for several days – you just can’t do Paris justice on a drive by and we need more gawking time.  This despite this being our fifth time in the City of Light!!!

On our way back we realized our ignorance of how certain Paris Metro zones work; what we didn’t know was that the central Paris “metro” zones (1 and 2) don’t work on the outer zones (like the airport and Disneyland and well…also Versailles) so we found ourselves in a bit of a pickle at the final turnstile at the Viroflay Left Bank RER C line…so…Bob had to “jump the fence” to get a ticket so I could get out😬 We will be purchasing “point to point” tickets under these circumstances from now on.  

No matter where we have wound up in the world – we get where we need to go eventually.  

Next, we headed to Bordeaux, thankfully blessed with dry and partly sunny weather for which we were grateful.  

We found the Bordeaux Christmas market very appealing and close to the CCF/HSBC office where we closed down our account after two years of poor service and having to go to the branch in Bordeaux to take care of business (I could rant forever on this one).  It turned out to be a pretty seamless operation considering the complications we were subjected to, and they seemed glad to write off the Americans and their burdensome FACTA paperwork.  

I decided to partake in some fabulous (Vin Chaud) mulled wine (Bob can’t do oaked wine) that is not only mulled, but then placed on oak for an extra kick.  Leave it to the French!!  The weather was clear, and as night fell and the market lit up, we felt like we were in a fantasyland of sorts.  It wasn’t too busy as it was an off day and we walked along munching on roasted chestnuts and listening to traditional carols – that, by the way – are mostly of American origin.  

On our way out we stopped by the Bassins Lumieres – an astounding video exhibit (if you’ve been to the Van Gogh exhibit it’s a similar theme).  This exhibit is presented in the old WW II submarine base and the show is reflected from the water in the holding pens.  We saw many of the Dutch masters and then contemporary art set to music – it was an incredible experience.

I’ve included a reel of the Christmas Markets here for a short visual of our voyage. 

We’ve done a lot (again) this year that included the barge trip in Wales. And of course Africa which was a dream adventure that took a year of preparation.  

In light of the last three years of intense transition, we have vowed to take it easier in 2025 – like a gap year – and complete our pool project (fortunately the major work is finally completed after 1.5 years) and some of our more simple projects including do-it-yourself landscaping.  And some local travel to the coastal regions with the idea we will primarily stay “in-country.” And I need to finish the protracted process of getting my French Driver’s License which is no small feat. 

But heck, otherwise we will take some time with friends and family lounging around the pool – an alien concept up until now.  

The human condition seems to warrant the idea of reflecting especially as the year closes out, like the pools that surround us, mirroring the effects gone by and contemplating our place in the world.  

Despite our otherwise “dreamlike” lifestyle we are not immune to the laws of entropy and have suffered much loss over the last year.  It began last December when we got the news a dear friend in California passed suddenly from complications to surgery – the shock reverberated through the household for months as he was expected to join us for the Tour de France and was like a brother to Bob. Then Bob lost three aunts in the span of a few months and then the lovely Yvonne (Bob’s sister-in-law) lost her interminable battle with cancer the night before we left for Africa.  We turned around within a few days after returning and flew to the UK for her funeral.  

Then…soon after I received news that my Aunty Alice passed away quietly in the night at 99 years old.  This loss closed a final chapter in the Eugene, Oregon legacy that brought such fond memories, and made me feel like a child again. 

Finally, while all this was going on, my brother was diagnosed with dementia; this heartbreaking news from the States will warrant a trip back – the only time we will probably venture out of France in 2025. 

We mourn their passing and are grateful for the time we have spent in their presence.  

Auld Lang Syne will have a new meaning for us this year as we stare into the reflecting pool of life and continue to cultivate gratitude for the time we have left on this earth, and pray for better times for those who are less fortunate than us. 

Spring 2024 Wales to Versailles

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, maison de campagne, The French Life, Travel, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

It is a spring morning in Southwest France.  The moon rises in the west, in a half-lidded sleep disturbed by the awakenings of dawn, the sun then simultaneously awakes in the east as if to say “it is my turn now, and the birds concur.”

This was my first birthday in France; I realized my last two birthdays were spent in Hawaii and Venice.  As that sentiment rolled around my consciousness I feared I was becoming a snob. Yet, fifty years ago I was a country bumpkin oblivious to either one of those venues and my exposure to French culture came in the form of words like “Bon Marche” and a concoction called “french dressing”  that was best reserved for “french fries.”  

After struggling with these conflicting perspectives, I was soon abandoned to the day and the few chores I needed to accomplish before heading out for my birthday lunch.   

As it turned out it was actually a surprise lunch as I was greeted by our neighbors and smattering of American friends we had collected over the last year.  I am really starting to feel more at home, especially now that we have gotten our Carte de Sejours (residency cards).  Though I do wonder if the French have an installation on Mars; so much of the paperwork is copious – bordering on the obscene and many of their systems are still manual instead of online – it really does make you wonder.  Now that we have completed our paperwork we can actually have a celebratory bonfire to get rid of the backup materials that certainly came in handy but are taking up way to much space.  

Otherwise we have been busy in the garden, coping with (and dodging) the torrential rains that per everyone we talk to, are quite unprecedented, and those few days of sunshine and perfect temperatures only makes one yearn for more of the same. 

We had much to do before heading for the UK, as we are planning to spend time with Bob’s sister and brother-in-law in Malvern, and then vacation on a barge, boating our way through the canals of Northern Wales for four days.  

We managed to get the potager planted and some of our privet hedges in before taking off as it would soon be too dry for planting.  With our new 3200 liter underground water tank we can set the sprinkler on a timer and the tank replenishes itself when it rains so we really aren’t wasting any water while we are away.  

The drive from Doudrac to Rouen was a grueling 10 hours as we had some unexpected diversions; we were rightly exhausted once we arrived at the hotel.  The next day we had the adventure of taking our car on the “LeShuttle” through the channel tunnel to England.  It is quite a feat of engineering!

When we disembarked we were driving on the left side of the road which as it turned out, Bob navigated rather nicely.  His British muscle memory kicked in though I still felt dyslexic as being on the opposite side is very unnatural for me.  We got to Malvern late in the afternoon; it was interesting being back in an English-speaking country though I had to catch myself so I wasn’t expressing French greetings!  

After getting settled in at Bruce and Kathryn’s place,  we headed to Boots that is like an American CVS pharmacy where we can get over-the-counter meds that aren’t easily accessible in France, such as saline eye drops in a bottle (the French have these little vials they use that is really an eye wash), Deet insect spray – simple things like that. Basically it was easier purchasing these items instead of performing pantomimes at the French pharmacy.

We then had a great evening at the Rotary where Bruce is president and enjoyed a tasty meal on a stellar golf course; this gave us a chance to dress up for a change.  

We had nice weather in Malvern and besides going for walks, we also rearranged our luggage for the four day barge cruise on the canals in Wales.  It’s only a two hour drive from Malvern, and after long days in the car from France to the UK it was a welcome relief. 

Wales is one of the wettest spots in England and as you drive through the countryside, the hills are of a lush green, partitioned by hedgerows, with the sheep and the Tudor-style homes; you do realize why this area is so special.  England is more dense than France, due to the physics of size but the English oaks and chestnuts seem more grand, I think because of their “wingspan.”  Many sit apart from their brethren, dominating the fields with their massive limbs, occasionally accompanied by willows and birches.

One can argue that the Dordogne is equally lush, though I think the Perigordian stone, that bleached stone that you see on the signature structures in the south of France, has a bit of a Mediterranean flair.  And the French farmlands are vast by comparison, with dryer and warmer summers.  It’s the summer thunderstorms that keep the area green – though violent they certainly help to maintain a balance to the farming community.

As we drove through canopies of trees, it felt more like a primordial jungle that had been fashioned by a hungry dinosaur instead of modern-day commerce.  

We arrived at the Blackwater Meadow Marina, the beginning of our trek along the Llangollen Canal.  We unpacked our cars sans the luggage bags (like the RV there is only so much space) and set off down the canal.  The weather was lovely, warm and in the 60’s, and we hoped it would hold for the majority of the trip.  

As we embarked we were greeted by some swans and ducks and we kept seeing the goslings – they were so darling!  We otherwise floated quietly through the farmlands. 

Bob and Bruce managed the till and we went up the river for a few hours and stopped as it was already getting late; we moored up for the night in a beautiful location overlooking rolling meadows and a dairy farm.  

We were able to get out and stretch our legs along the towpath; back in the day the barges were towed by horses so these are well-tread paths along the entire length of the canals.  

We settled in for a nice cottage pie and awoke the next morning to several cows staring at us!  

After breakfast we headed out and were greeted by two locks that took about ten minutes to fill and are manually opened and closed.  

We spent a relaxing few hours moored off in a wooded area for our tea which consisted of scones, jam and…clotted cream – one of my favorite British delicacies.  After that indulgence I took off for a nice trek along the towpath; the weather was perfect, it was not crowded and I was able to do some “tree-bathing.”  Soon I stumbled up on the England/Wales border with an English translation of Welsh on the signs.  Then came the tunnel where the barges pass through on their way to and from the famous Pontcysylite Aqueduct.  

I greeted our barge on my trek back and we made our way to the tunnel that turned out to be a bit of an adventure as there is no system such as a green light telling you when you can go, and we wound up having another barge reverse back out of the tunnel as we made our way through.  It takes about ten minutes and there are apparently bats🦇

Bruce ran the length of the tunnel with his cell phone to navigate our passage😉

We soon passed over the Chirk Acqueduct and then across the Pontcysylite Aqueduct that is a World Heritage Site and an astounding feat of engineering.  It can also be dangerous as the entry (gap) to the boats don’t provide any protection from falling off into the meadow far below – eeek!  

We decided to moor up in nearby Trevor.  As it was a beautiful day, Kathryn and I went for a hike under the aqueduct; it’s a very manageable trek along the river where you can sit and take in the woods and the spectacular arches of the aqueduct. 

We decided to spend the night in this area and as we sat down for dinner, alas, the rain came. 

We were socked in for the night and then into the following day. We decided to make a slow and steady journey back and as it was raining pretty hard at times so we were limited in our adventure options.   It turned out to be a bit miserable for the guys as they had to remain outside to steer the barge.  

By mid-afternoon the rain let up a bit and we moored up at the Lion’s Quay, an upscale resort and made reservations for a proper sit-down dinner.  I went for a walk up to the golf course and experienced a sort of Watership Down as there were rabbits popping out of the hedgerows…everywhere! I got a decent walk in and then we had coffee at the resort then soon we were off to drinks and a nice dinner.  

As we were near a busy street we boated downstream a bit more to a quiet area so we could have a peaceful night’s sleep.  

Our adventure through the canals of Wales

The next day we headed at a slow pace back to the Marina, so far the weather was holding up. We disembarked and returned to Malvern and were back by early evening. All in all it was a very relaxing time and we got some much needed rest that has been seemingly impossible when we are at home.  

We spent a few days at Bruce and Kathryn’s, including hikes through the Malvern Hills which was spectacular.  

Hiking through the Malvern Hills

We then headed to Basingstoke and onto the Winchester to visit more of the family before landing in Dorset on the last leg of our trip in England.

Sadly we learned we lost Bob’s favorite Aunt Brenda Montgomery, a powerhouse in the Canadian medical community; we thankfully had a chance to visit on our RV trip in Nova Scotia. ❤️‍🩹

On our way back to France we visited Bob’s Uncle and then overnighted in Dorset at the Coppelridge – an ode to a place we stayed when we first met 30 years ago.

30 years on at the Coppelridge – we had more hair back then!

We stopped in for lunch with the incomparable and renowned British Explorer Colonel John Blashford-Snell and his lovely wife Judith whom we had traveled with to Guyana and Nepal.

https://www.johnblashfordsnell.org.uk

This break also included a stroll through the quintessential charm of Shaftesbury, known for its meandering streets, thatched-roof cottages and lovely views of Dorset.

The famous Gold Hill in Shaftesbury

After some interminable stop and go traffic through south London, we finally made our way to the channel tunnel where we experienced further delays.  At this point we were looking forward to getting home but we had one last stop:

The Palace of Versailles.

The massive scale with the accompanying level of artistry is nothing short of astonishing.  The landscape and architecture is, as is always the way with the French, the celebration of the art form; meticulously crafted and restored everywhere you look.  The grounds, canals and waterworks go on forever; even after a one hour bike ride and 23k steps 😫you still can’t take it all in.  While you can’t call it “restrained” by any means, it differs in other palaces such as Lindorf in Germany which borders on the grotesque with all of its overbearing embellishments.  

And the queen’s hamlet (a bit like a hobbit village but inspired by the colombage architecture of Normandy), is just another example of lavish spending by the royals of the day so you can imagine why the hungry and weary decided to revolt and take Mademoiselle’s head.  

Versailles was created as an idea – a fantastical playground cordoned off from reality.  It just kept growing over the centuries until it became the phenomenal sprawl that it is today.  

When the baroque music plays throughout the garden you can easily envisage the royals and entourage in all of their finery.

What I liked the most: 

Overlooking the canals and gardens, it creates a soothing balm to wander around and it wasn’t too terribly crowded.

The Hall of Mirrors

The Queen’s Hamlet

Breezeways with pink marble and black and white tile of the Grand Trianon.  We got lost wandering through the gardens and stumbled up on an incredible foundation, recently restored and not on any map or brochure.  It’s quite an astounding thing!  

Lastly, the signature French architecture with the dark gray and gold embellishments (just the best).

The weather gods were kind to us as well.  We had a spit of rain during our bike ride, but the skies cleared a bit and we had good weather whilst strolling through the Grand Trianon.  When we got back to the canal (Petite Venice) we scored a seat at the restaurant just as the thunder cracked and shortly after we were seated the skies let loose in monsoonal splendor.  We watched as several other tourists came hurtling in for lunch – some of them pretty dang wet.  

By the time we finished eating, the skies had cleared and we made the way to the main palace for our 4:30 time slot. 

Note – the Chinese tourists are back in full bore; due to their restrictions even post-Covid we were spared the swarms during our RV trip. We were especially thankful as the national parks were crowded even without too many foreign tourists. Sadly, overcrowding at any popular tourist destinations is becoming a real issue everywhere.

Trekking through Versailles

We got home late the next day to an overgrown garden that would keep us busy for quite a while – though we were glad to be back in our La Maison.  

We are looking forward to summer and are excited that the Tour de France is coming through our area – we plan to watch the tour pass through on July 11🥰

Now for a French moment:

While we were in the UK, Bob’s sister gave us a lovely book full of whimsical illustrations by an Englishmen who lives in the Southwest France.  What a delight to read such relatable expressions!

Humor during the pandemic😆

March 2024 Our Dream Maison a Year Later

Posted on Posted in American Expat, Beauxvillage, Dordogne, Expatriation, France, French, Jardin, Lotetgaronne, Maison, maison de campagne, Photography, The French Life, Voyage en FranceTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave 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 💩