Friday, July 30, 2010

In memory of the Emperor

I am sitting, drinking my evening tea (caramel tea to which I add sugar making it what Dennis disapprovingly calls "liquid candy") and I am thinking back on our day today. We had no plans when we started this morning. After the usual quiet breakfast on the western facing balcony, Dennis started writing out his daily to-do list and I began doing my usual, the dishes. We decided to take advantage of the cool morning air and we loaded Denise into the car to drive out to the "Roman ruin" nearby. Dennis has a love of all things Roman and ruined. Now, getting ready to leave once the decision has been made is no small feat for us mostly because Captain Hook (our lovingly, affectionate name for Denise because of the noise she makes with her cane as she walks through the house) requires many different things before she feels ready to leave. Like her bag, her sunglasses, her sweater and sweatshirt (yes, both.....just in case) and all the doors in the house must be closed...and then we need to recheck the doors, and then the cushions have to be brought in from the balcony, and "do we have my sweater? Do we have gas in the car? Where is my bag?" followed by..."are the doors closed? I don't want animals to come in" (she lives on the 3rd floor). But finally we have her loaded into the lift...and we are riding down and walking to the car and she asks me, "Do we have gas for the car? Where is the car? I can't remembur anything anymore" Such a cute sweet French woman.

We head out toward The Trophy. This monument celebrates the victory of the Roman Emperor Augustus over the people of the Alps. He subjugated (killed, enslaved, ruined their lives in general) these tribes between 25 and 14
B.C. In 7-6 B.C., the senate of Rome dedicated this trophy to Him. It is standing at the highest point of the road on the Via Julia which Augustus built to facilitate exchanges with Gaul. So we are about to walk up Roman roads (built by slaves), among the original Roman gardens (planted by slaves) to view something that was built (by slaves) before Christ was born.

Along the walk we come across beautiful views of Monaco and the surrounding areas including Italy in the distance. It was sunny and cool where we were yet ahead there was a quickly gathering storm. It hasn't rained here in France during our entire visit. The cactus in the photo (this is some info on the side) blossoms this huge flower only once every 100 years. Amazing...

We first reach the museum that shows a completed replica of the Trophy as it would have looked before it was dismantled in 1705 and much of the stone used to build the nearby village.


Throughout the room are original pieces found at the site that were used to reconstruct the trophy to its current state. There were once many of these standing as a proclamation of the power and glory of the Romans. Only two survive to this day. The other is in Romania.
It is something poetic to stand among pieces of stone and carvings that were made so long ago. To stand where these long dead and mostly forgotten men once stood.

The first thing that strikes you is the sheer size of this monument. And then you remind yourself that this is a ruin, just a portion of what it looked like when it was complete.

Our handsome gentleman tour guide informed us that the huge columns we see surrounded the entire structure, totaling 24 columns. Very little is known about the structure because the Romans were not very good at keeping records and because there wasn't much love for them coming from the tribes that they enslaved, so all records were destroyed. On the very top of the entire structure was a huge statue of the Emperor Augustus himself, making the height of the entire Trophy at about 50 meters. This structure was simply built to honor the Emperor like a god. The Trophy itself is placed to mark the end (or beginning, depending on how you like to look at things) of the Alps. Augustus was deified and assimilated to Hercules because he opened roads through the Alps. The subjugation of the Alpine tribes was therefore just a pretext to legitimise the hero-worship of the Emperor: the celebration of his exploits highlighted his divine nature. MMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm.....I guess its clear why the locals tore as much of it down as they could. No one wants to be reminded of the 'god' who came through and subjugated you...I'm just stating the facts

But it sure was HUGE!!! Along the side of the Trophy is this massive inscription in marble dedicating it to the Emperor and naming all 45 tribes that he slaughtered to get there in the first place. But the marble was lovely....Italian marble

The structure is made almost entirely of limestone that was dug up (guess who did the digging?) in the nearby quarry and dragged up the mountainside.

After walking all around it, standing next to it and putting my hands where ancient Romans and subjugated tribes (I couldn't help myself) put there hands, we found a staircase and start climbing. Dennis says to me "just think, this was built before Joseph and Mary were even married" And I swear to you, I stopped on the stairs and thought..."Who do we know named Joseph and Mary?" ...... Well, he said it like they were a couple we hang out with. I didn't know he meant THE Joseph and Mary.

So we reach the top, without railings or any safety equipment (as if the monument itself is saying "Go ahead, hurt yourself...mere mortal whom I would easily subjugate if I could just find me some Romans) and this is the view we drink in. The wind was blowing and you could see lightening in the distance. Its quickly obvious that this thing was built to remind everyone that Roman was driving this train. This must have been fearsome to behold.



The more you look, the more amazed you feel. In the left hand edge of the picture above you can see the remains of the quarry used to gather and haul the limestone (carried and gathered by the subjugated tribes, naturally)

It was really hard to pull ourselves away but it had been over an hour since we left The Captain waiting in the car so be began our climb down.

Along the way we edge over to enjoy the views of Monaco and I notice that there is a goat, no..wait.....two goats on the other side of the fence, just hanging. Ahhh...France, with Roman ruins, Monaco in the distance....and.............goats. Of course!

We make it back to the car and then the 15 minutes home...but before we can even arrive we are totally swallowed by the rain storm crawling up the mountain. Fat, bloated rain drops hit us, and cause rivers all along the roads. Everywhere we see scooters pulled over waiting it out but the storm ends up lasting 3 hours. And the wind was fierce and the rain icy. 2 days ago it was 90 degrees in the shade of the balcony.....while now its raining and it has dropped to 63. I love this place. Its crazy!

Of course we had to wrap Denise in two sweaters and a fleece blanket but I was in a tank top, soaking up the cold as I cooked us lunch (more on that later)......

I will say this, its a good thing the Captain had us lock down the castle before we left...the wind and rain was everywhere! Smart lady!





































Thursday, July 29, 2010



Start the day out right. Strong coffee and a chocolate croissant. Or two.

I have always thought glass blowing to be an amazing thing but I have never actually seen it happening. There is an ancient glass blowing factory in the town of Biot, which happens to be very close by. So we made a day of it, starting with breakfast. Cousin Bernard was our pilot again and off we went, first to watch the magic in Biot. A picturesque medieval village that dates back 2,500 years, situated 4 km from the Mediterranean Sea and nestled between Antibes and Nice, it was only about 30 minutes worth of driving.
We found the little factory with out much trouble and leaving Bernard and Denise
in the shade, we made our way inside.
There was a crowd of people watching several men of various ages, all dressed in shorts and sandals, working with long, hollow rods each with a molten piece of glass on the end. It made me wonder
where their work safety poster was hanging. Maybe in the lunch room? Without much fuss or fanfare, you could watch these men heat up and shape their glass into all sorts of different pieces. There was no fuss and little conversation but after a few
moments you become entranced by the dance they
perform. Afterwards, you can walk through the gallery and admire beautiful works of glass art from around the world. And each piece has a price tag, just in case you want to take some artwork home.
Back into the car, we are quickly off again. This time bound for a candy factory sitting along a river that bubbles under the remains of an ancient bridge that was destroyed by German invaders. All that's left to testify are the huge stone supports.

We had lunch in a restaurant a few steps from the candy factory. It would seem that the more you are willing to eat and drink, the more popular you become here. So I am thinking I may as well run for Mayor next week. After eating huge salads, drinking beer, wine and coffee and enjoying the local ice cream we made our way over to watch some candy being made and sampled their famous rose jelly. I was forced to buy some dark chocolate too.


The candy tour was fun. Although I had to wrap my mind around the fact that there are no screens on the factory windows and the workers don't wear gloves..of any kind..... Dennis says I need to live outside my American box, so I am rolling with it. No easy task for me, especially when we had to drive around for 30 minutes looking for a handicap friendly bathroom for my mother-in-law because the glass factory and the candy factory bathrooms were up 18 flights of stairs. Ok, only 2 flights, but the woman is 94 and in a wheelchair. Dennis says that change comes slow here and the people are accustomed to being uncomfortable. I can see that now. I guess I want to stay un-accustomed to that.

Off we go again, headed into more mountain passes. Suddenly Bernard stops the car and tells us to walk back to the "Cascade" because it is "varry beautiful and famous".

I don't stop to question but grab my camera and run to where he pointed. We were almost pushed off the tiny road by oncoming cars including a huge flatbed that became stuck going through the tunnel and almost caused a 3 car pile-up but the waterfall we found was worth certain death. Breathtaking. Of course, I learn a few minutes later, when we have literally run for safety back in the car, that for a single Euro you can walk on stone pathways carved along the waterfall...but who needs the easy way? Not us! Anyway, the life risking pictures look better in my opinion. We did decide to splurge and pay the Euro so we could view it from above.











Onward and upward, Bernard takes us to another medieval village, this one high on the mountain edge giving
you breathtaking panoramic views.
The Chateau

Gourdon awaited us with tiny shops selling all sorts of candy and cakes, soaps and perfumes. Another shop sold glass jewelry and another oil paintings of the local beauties. Several restaurants tempted us but we were too full from the salad and all that came with it earlier. Everywhere you look you drink in the spectacular scenery.


With so much to feast your eye on you start to feel full. Your eyes become overwhelmed by seeing so many things in one place.






This is the view from the Chateau and of the village from below.

At this point my camera battery dies :( We started heading down to the coast again and soon we are in Cannes, driving through the downtown area, right where to film festival is held every year. The buildings are a mix of modern and ancient with many famous hotels facing the ocean. We continue on through Nice, then Monaco and finally we are home again. All totaled we spend 12 hours enjoying the changing scene outside the windows of our borrowed car. The air was breezy and cool, especially in the mountains. But then a few minutes later you are by the sea and you can feel the warm sun on your skin. It felt good to be full. Full of the food and drink and full of the scenery.

Thank you cousin Bernard~









Tuesday, July 27, 2010

"And if the darkness is to keep us apart, and if the daylight feels like it's a long way off, and if your glass heart should crack and for a second you turn back...oh no, be strong..walk on"

I took myself out of the house this afternoon for a walk to clear my head. My feet found their way to the local olive tree garden just steps away from our apartment. Peaceful and quiet with the scent of wild flowers and the olive trees themselves, it felt like the right place for me to think and be alone. Most of the trees in this garden are well over 500 years old. As I sat there feeling overwhelmed with my sorrows I thought of all that those trees have seen. The joys and the sorrows. How many people have come and sat under their leaves and breathed in their scent and found comfort, just like me? How many have walked here and sat and just let their tears flow without restraint until there were no tears left. Imagine the stories these trees could tell me if only they knew how. If only I knew how to listen. Imagine the secrets that they are guardians of.

Maybe they were speaking to me...maybe their silent sympathy was the comfort I needed. I walked among them until I came across a patch of rose bushes and I stopped to smell each different one. Then I wandered to a batch of sunlight by a very large olive tree. There I found a bench that I laid across and looked up through the leafy arms of the old olive tree to the blue sky with its scattered clouds. I watched the clouds dance past and let my mind think upon things I have been too scared to think about for the past 24 hours. Memories I was afraid to remember, certain that just the mental pictures of my dear friend and all she did for me would crush my glass heart completely. Somehow though, I found the comfort I was seeking and for a few moments the clarity I needed. We are such small pieces of a picture too large for each of us to begin to understand. Laying there among my new friends, breathing in the clean perfumed air I felt less alone in my pain. Miles and miles away from the ones I love, being unable to help them and forced to simply wait to hear, I found a measure of peace in the olive tree garden.

"Who's to say where the wind will take you, who's to say what it is will break you. I don't know which way the wind will blow.......I know that this is not goodbye"

Monday, July 26, 2010

Into the Mountains.....



So we started early, early for us...8AM...we packed the coffee into a thermos, brought cups and sugar cubes and even milk in a tiny glass jar. We got Denise into the car...picked up cousin Bernard at his apartment in Menton and off we went. I get very car sick, very quickly...so out of kindness Bernard drove very very carefully, which is no small thing when you are winding your way through the crazy roads here. After about ten minutes in the car though we had a six car parade behind us.....Very unhappy drivers but Bernard never let it get to him. He said, "Let them wait" in a heavy French accent. Its wonderful to have no set place to go and no set time to get there. We wandered up the mountain pass. There are no guard rails, barriers or fences of any kind. And the road is barely big enough for one small car. Scooters come out of nowhere and pass you, there are always cyclists around every corner and in our case, cows blocking the road. But no problem, we found our way around.


What I can't get over about this country is that every single direction you look there is something beautiful to see. The ocean has my heart for sure but the mountains were dazzling as
well. Constantly changing, with every turn, there was something to see and the air was so clean and fresh. You quickly became addicted just to breathing. Really.....



The road was carved right out of the mountain side or even right through the mountains and often the paving would stop and we were on dirt. We stopped along the way to look closely at a World War II tank and the ruins left over of the army barracks. Even that site could not mar the beauty around us.

We came across one cyclist who was seriously blocking the road, riding right in the middle of the mountain pass. Personally, I think he was helicopter-dropped there because there is no way anyone could ride that far up. And there are no houses for miles. Anyway, he finally pulled over to allow us passage but shouted after us in French ......something about a truck being able to get around him so what was our problem......

Around and around we traveled hairpin curves .... higher and higher. Finally, Bernard found the restaurant he had in mind. A small, remote place where we sat outside and drank in the views. "Who eats with views like this?" Dennis kept asking, every 5 minutes or so. No one is the answer...no matter how often he asks the answer is no one. No one gets to see this. The menu is hand written on a tiny table blackboard and we start with a locally made orange wine..next comes the meal, along with bread I would easily kill for, wine and then cheese and red wine and then dessert and then espresso and then an after-meal drink of clear strong liquid that I cannot swallow nor identify...mostly because I can no longer swallow anything. The whole process takes about 3.5 hours. No one makes you feel like you need to leave...ever. They may even stay open just to allow you to sit there all day. No one brings the check unless you flag them down, and beg them for it. Then they look a little hurt but bring the check...with chocolates piled on top of it and then spend many more minutes ignoring you and your need for change. Somehow I managed to eat every single thing that was placed in front of me. Every drop and every crumb was amazing...and I was so full Dennis had to roll me to the car. Breathing, laughing and sitting upright was very painful but worth it.

On to more and more beautiful mountain scenes, the kind that make you want to run about singing while surrounded by children whom you have dressed in outfits made from your curtains. Truly, the mountains are that beautiful. I understand now how things like bursting into song can happen. Breathing all this clean air can really go to your head...make you do crazy things.

We found an amazing waterfall just along the road, no signs to mark it or lay claim
to it. Without Bernard we may not have seen it at all....but there it was crashing down in all its
unpolluted glory, with no fences around it or anything stopping us from climbing all over it and possibly maiming ourselves. I love this country! So of course we climbed all over it and played in it until Bernard honked the car horn demanding we return to him...

We traveled through tiny towns and villages where our car could hardly pass through the crowded streets of people, and musicians and people sitting outside eating. Everywhere we went smelled like wildflowers and every time we stopped the car you could hear cow bells in the distant trees. You never get enough cow bells.
So the entire journey took 12 hours but the time fly by. I blinked my heavy eyelids and we were back in Menton, kissing Bernard goodbye and heading home.











Ready, set...go





So here it is, the winding down of my trip to France. I have so many stories stored inside my tiny hummingbird brain, I thought this may be a good way to let some of them out. I hope I make you laugh in this effort. That is my only goal here.
Since I'm late in starting this, I don't think a daily diary method will be all that interesting to read so I will just
let my thoughts unfold and hopefully it makes for some interesting reading.


We have had a merciless heat wave in the first few weeks of our visit here to Roquebrune Cap Martin, France. The kind of heat that makes locusts cry. So today is a heavenly 70 degrees with minimal humidity and cloud cover. This is why I agreed to return to Death Mountain with Dennis. In
our first week here he took me walking
up to visit The Chateau. He assured me that it was a mere 30 minute walk, that took one gradually uphill......


Lies, all lies.
It was 100 degrees, 100% humid and full high noon sun. Thus returning to Death Mountain was not even making the top 50 of my list for the rest of our visit here. However, I fell in love with a tiny handcrafted
baby owl in a ceramics shop and Dennis and I had no cash on our first death march to the summit. So return we must. Of course, my new husband assured me that we would return in a car. Lies, all lies.
Today dawned cool and cloudy so my prince turned to me and said, "want to go buy that owl?" And I fell for it.... Oh yes I did. So climb we did and I have to say, knowing what was going to happen did make it easier. I didn't bring a potato or shovel and I survived to tell the tale. It really is lovely there, with a thousand year old olive tree and views of the entire beautiful area coastline.

Such an amazing view.
After locating said owl and having it wrapped by the designer himself, we wandered out, up and through the tiny streets and staircases that go in every which direction.

Every way you turn there is a set of stone steps going up or down, a shop to discover, a random cat that needs some attention and a beautiful view to drink in.

This time we stopped at a tiny restaurant nestled along those stone streets and steps, had a glass of white wine and shared some wonderful crustless quiche. Poor Dennis, I think I ate more than my share. I can't be serious around good food.

Then we climbed back down the mountainside. Not a bad morning after all.