Sea to Sky

Hurricane Sandy is on our minds and the people living in that part of the world are in our prayers as they batten down the hatches for some freakish stormy weather. Stay safe, dear ones!

The sun was shining today as we boarded a narrow gauge train and headed into the alps from Nice. It took 90 minutes to get there and 3 hours to make the trip home. No one does engineering like the Swiss and we remarked that French train travel has much in common with their Italian neighbours.

We traveled to the medieval village of Entreveaux it’s truly remarkable with its cliffside fortress and hinged draw bridges. Like something out of Lord of the Rings.

Once we arrived back at our hotel, we decided that clean clothes were in order so we camped out at the laundromat for an hour and a half not only washing clothes but meeting the world doing laundry too. A couple from Ireland, a young man from Holland, an older Nicoise gentleman who insisted on speaking french on the fascinating subject of the Rothschild family. We gave him a Canada pin and he laughed when I finally said, “je nas parle pas france”.

Dinner was 2 courses of cheese and we were stuffed! Bedtime for us and a move to Lyon in the morning. With the cooler temperatures and a greater risk of inclement weather we decided to forgo Provence and save it for a late summer visit at another time.

One another happy note, we want to wish Mom and Dad Smoker a very happy anniversary today. Your marriage is an incredible inspiration to our family and beyond! Congratulations to you both!

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Villefranche-sur-Mer

Mediterranean France feels much like the Italian Riviera. Both languages are spoken, laundry hangs from windows in narrow passageways, pasta and pizza are local specialties and buildings are painted in warm solid colours. The pace is relaxed and people are fun-loving and warm. Today we poked around a seaside village called Villefranche-sur-mer. It reminds us of an upscale version of Vernazza on the Cinque Terre but with a more expansive harbour and an ancient Roman fortress. We climbed the ramparts to check out the views and happened upon a used book sale with vintage copies of Tintin and Babar. Prices reflected their antiquated status otherwise I would have considered buying them. Highs today were a mere 10 degrees so we bundle up and enjoy the quieter tourist spots. Cafe au lait is the favoured drink as we try to keep warm. The views are just lovely.

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Exploring the Riviera

This is one of those days when I am grateful for a faulty weather forecast. A 30% chance of showers translated into a 0% precipitation reality and the French Riviera performed exactly as the guide books promised.

We breakfasted with an interesting couple from Michigan who are here for a conference, then set out to stroll the Palade des Anglais and explore the old city. The Chagall Museum is perched on a hill – what isn’t in Nice? Chagall’s biblical account of Creation reflects his Russian Jewish roots and is larger than life. His painting of the 7th day – the Sabbath – expresses the solidity of rest when enough is enough. A timely reminder even for vacationers.

Not that we’d had our fill of France but with Monaco just a 20 minute train ride east, we decided to visit one of the smallest, if not the wealthiest countries in the world. It is quite the place! Fast cars, luxurious yachts, children dressed in high fashion, clean, compact, coiffeured and elegantly tucked into its seaside cliffside this tiny nation accurately represents 1% of the world’s wealthiest.

Europeans eat late and so we made our way back to the room to take in the sunset, freshen up and await our 7:30 reservation. It’s been another gift of a day!

Sorry for the lack of photos. It seems that my ability to upload them depends heavily on a good sized bandwidth, which our current accommodation is lacking.  We plan to move to Provence on Tuesday and hope for better luck there. Of course, I don’t really believe in luck but you grasp my meaning.

 

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Nice in a Storm

Weather plays a pretty key role when one is a nomad, even if the role is short-term. When the rain falls and the wind blows and lightening and thunder flash and crash about, it seems prudent to stay indoors. However, for those of us who invest in Gortex not just in case, but when stormy gales blow, we see inclement weather as another enriching aspect to the adventure.

If you haven’t heard, a northern front is making its way through south western Europe and that’s just about where we find ourselves. The TGV from Paris to Nice today took about 5 1/2 hours and what a relaxing and luxurious means of travel. Following an exhausting, oops I mean exhilarating, day cramming as many sights as we could manage into our last Paris day, (photos for you) a restful trek south through Marseilles, Toulons, Provence, Cannes and Antibes suited us just fine.

By the time we arrived in Nice and we found the hotel, our shoes, under clothes, bags and much of what was in them were soaked. What was I saying about Gortex and adventure?

The good news is that the room is extra comfy with a view of the Riviera (love these off-season rates) from where we storm-watch, eat local cheese and pesto and dry out.

France is spectacular even in a storm.

More photos to come. Stormy weather is preventing a strong enough signal for loading them at present.

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Impressions

Impressions are tenuous at best. You don’t know whether or not to trust someone’s impression as true because, well, it’s their take on things. And for some impressionists, I guess accuracy is not the point. They would argue that the value is in the telling.

A quest for perfect representation in the artist’s work was not what painters like Renoir, Cezanne and Monet were after and their contemporaries squawked at their blatant deviation from the realistic. Now, each year millions of visitors flock to D’Orsay Musee to catch a glimpse of history’s premier Impressionists. I have an overwhelming urge to pull out my water colours and paint brush when I stand alongside their works. Not only that but their pieces evoke some surprisingly strong emotion in me, much like music does for others.

And now on to artistry of an engineering sort; my husband is mad about trains so we decided to catch a preview of Gare du Lyon where we plan to make tracks to Nice on Friday. Le Train Bleu, the train station restaurant was recommended if we ever needed a spot of lunch so we popped in for a salad and a cafe Viennoise. The building itself is tremendous and the food? Typically french-alicious!

After touring the station, another architectural wonder, and purchasing our tickets, we headed back to our quaint neighbourhood for a stroll along Rue Cler with its fromagerie, charcuterie, bologerie, patisserie and chocolaterie. Feasts for the eyes, each one!

We are taking a 2 hour night tour of Paris in a funny French convertible called a 2CV in 30 minutes so I had better don sweater, gloves and toque in preparation. It’s sure to make an impression.

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A Striking Day

The museum pass seemed like a good idea at the time as it promised an economical means of visiting several of Paris’s renowned museums. Nothing was said about scheduled strikes. Gendarmerie were plentiful today as demonstrations of striking workers shut down every museum within the vicinity.

At this rate, and even if workers are back to work tomorrow, we have to cram a lot of museums into our remaining days to pay for the pass. Or we can just relax, continue at our present pace and go where the wind blows. Maybe we will just say with our friends, “c’est la vie”.

Speaking of blows, we witnessed a fight on the public bus between two elderly ‘gentlemen’. There were harsh words (and one did not need to be fluent in French to understand them) and pushing and some surprising neck and face slapping. At least the French were as alarmed as we were!

The photos tell more of our day visiting Notre Dame Cathedral, Arc d’Triumphe, L’ Defense and an upscale Parisienne mall.

Just in case you’re wondering, the fog hung around till about noon and then the sun came out and warmed everyone up to a toasty 23 degrees. Warm enough to justify an Isle St. Louis gelato! Yum!

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War, Death and the Parisienne Tourist

My only real exposure to any of the France’s King Louises is based on Hollywood’s depiction of the boy king in The Three Muskateers film.

From our hotel window the Dome Chapel of Hotel National Des Invalides, with its gleaming golden outline, begs the question as to its origin. And guess what? It is one of Louis XIV’s initiatives to honour and care for soldiers in the mid-1600’s. It doubles as a museum and its most famous artifact is Napolean’s remains. Apparently, not far from here is another collection of bare bones artifacts that include skulls, femurs, rib cages and the like. Napolean’s is well-dressed within 4 layers of encasing and this tourist is grateful. The weapons photos are for my son-in-law to decipher next time I see him. I wonder if the 1889 architect, Gustave Eiffel borrowed his idea from the 17th century powder flask in my photo. The similarity in shape is unmistakable, don’t you agree? A stop on today’s agenda included a visit to La Doguergie yarn shop. Not everyone was outdoors enjoying the 25+ temperatures and the place was crazy busy. In fact, the customer service system operated at a level of convoluted-ness that it would put the CRA to shame! Sadly, the lovely yarn I imagined on my daughter’s needles remains at La Doguergie. I hope to try again. Lunchtime at an outdoor cafe after a stroll through La Pere Lachaise directed the conversation around existential things. Maybe it seems strange to you but we rather enjoy meandering through cemeteries. The setting is park-like and European grave sites are beautifully kept. Anyway, our appetites were ready for something the French do very well and all that creamy, saucy and composed freshness was just too tempting to pass up. After  a late lunch we walked toward the river, caught the metro, found our stop at L’Ecole Militaire, popped in at the Pharmacie for shampoo and headed back to the room. It will be another early night as we are both feeling that good kind of tired.

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At Peace in Paris

There is nothing like waking up in a different city. You roll over in a leisurely drowse, gradually realizing the room and bed are unfamiliar but you somehow feel unalarmed and fully rested as you take in new surroundings.

Travel is rarely that restful.

Here we are, adjusting to a significant time differentiation, having just napped for 4 hours with the lively choruses of an American church service still dancing around in our heads. Our first order of business was to locate our locally owned hotel in the Rue Cler district of Paris. Once the luggage was safely stored and while we awaited check-in we stretched our legs and meandered along the Seine.

The sun is high as is the humidity and even Parisiennes comment on the unseasonable temperatures. Along the river embankment Christians gather for Sunday worship.

The American Church in Paris boasts a 198 year history, a membership of over 40 ethnic groups across several protestant denominations. Several pastors and an active laity offer service and leadership to English-speakers in the City of Light and visitors are a-plenty.

There is nothing like worship to focus our attention in all the right places as we immerse ourselves in a 2 week jaunt around France.

It is indeed a restful beginning.

PS IPhone photos do not do the city justice and we intend to bring better images in the days ahead.

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Pure Joy

I want you to pause for just a moment and recall something or someone that brings you pure joy. What’s the criteria that makes for pure joy?

Relationships are complicated, aren’t they? People come with the incredible mark of the Creator and really astound me in their uniqueness and abilities. I love watching people in their ‘zone’. You know what I mean, don’t you? I know a young woman, recently recorded, who sings with the purest voice I have ever heard. Emotion wells up from deep within me and tears are inevitable. I can’t quite explain it.

When someone speaks in a way that puts everything perfectly clear I find myself relaxing into their words. My son’s photography, as another example, captures a scene that takes my breath away. The compassion of my hospice friends as they care for the dying brings incredible peace into a situation that should or could be anything but peaceful. These are example of pure joy.

We, the people, also bring into our relationships immaturity, selfishness, misunderstanding, short-sightedness and emotional damage. There’s no use denying it. We can be a real pain to one another. The backside of pure joy.

There is something about a brand new life as a celebration of potential and pure joy.

The purest of joys, for me, is embodied in my granddaughter. She is growing up and learning to use the potty, speaking in full sentences, playing pretend and helping me in the kitchen and garden.  She is young, of course. Her world revolves around her needs and experiences. She doesn’t understand everything we say. She can’t see into tomorrow. And, though it breaks my heart to realize it she has experienced trauma. Her ‘zone’ is simply being child-like.

Each stage is a celebration and I awake every day with praise to God on my lips that she is still in my world.

What if we were to live in such a way that we looked at one another as children journeying toward adulthood? What if we celebrated each stage of one anothers’ growth while patiently accepting one another’s life experience and choices as child-like? Would it foster greater joy in relationships?

I wonder if that’s how God sees us and can look on us, His children, with pure joy. I like to think so.

PS My feathered friend is a first attempt at another source of joy of late; water colour painting!

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A One Night Cruise

My cruising experience is rather limited but certainly story-worthy.

A few years ago, I got a call around supper time on Friday night from my good friend, Janet, asking if I was interested in going on a cruise to Mexico. Sure, who wasn’t? She said there was room for 4. It was ours if our family could catch the last ferry off our island and drive for 2 days to LA. “The boat leaves from LA Sunday morning at 11:00”, she said.

Our teenage boys were out playing hockey, due home soon, so we threw their dirty clothes in a bag, piled our stuff together, gathered passports, relayed the details, hopped in the car and headed to the 11:45 pm ferry. It wasn’t until we were into the northern part of California that we were able to reach the necessary people to convey our plans. Long story short, we drove 22 hrs, slept a bit then boarded the boat in LA before it slipped south along the westcoast as far south as Mazatlan and back to LA over 7 luxurious days.

Our second cruise story is much like the first but the trip was shorter, 4 days, and took place between Vancouver and Seattle. Very last minute too.

When Janet emailed with another cruise deal for one night from Seattle to Vancouver with the girlfriends, we all jumped at the offer. Though not as last minute as the previous two, the spontenaity still had its appeal. Our rental car drive from Vancouver to Seattle took nearly 10 hours with all the shop-stops enroute and the 5 star weekend was nothing short of classic. Deluxe accommodation, superb food, downtown Seattle’s charm, a memorable encounter with the homeless and a living, thriving market added to the experience. Our collective memories accumulate; we always revisit the old and talk about our geriatric days ahead. I, for one, am grateful for these girls in my life. They remind me to laugh, don’t panic when I cry, pray for my family and they inspire faith in God and hope in all the good things.

We all missed Sharon and played a song sung at her funeral in remembrance while we sat on our balcony overlooking sunny Seattle.  She is ever present in my life, but especially when I am with these girlfriends. I think she would have loved our one night cruise.

Thank you, girlfriends!

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