Please Sire, let it be German

A night at the Opera in Monaco.  Who gets to do that? Only people who wear furs and drive expensive cars and speak with accents and shout things like "BRAVO".  And then you have me.

Dennis took me out to see Salome' by Richard Strauss on the gala night, in Monaco, Monte Carlo.  It is based upon the story of Herod and his wife Herodias and her daughter Salome' right about the time John the Baptist found himself imprisoned and about to lose his head.

So off we head into Monte Carlo in our Mercedes circa 1980...with its rattling muffler and crazy loud diesel engine.  We were fabulous.  After parking below ground we surfaced to Monaco at night by the Casino, the Hotel de' Paris and the Cafe de' Paris. Oooolalala.  Everyone was tux-ed and furred.  It was a PETA nightmare.  I am sorry to say that many animals were killed in the clothing of Monaco that night.  Everywhere I looked there were bejeweled beautiful women draped in dead animals. And men in tuxes and pointy snake skin shoes. The Opera house was gilded and gold leafed, with ornate carvings and paintings of naked women and angles. Naturally.




Now let me just say that this was not my first rodeo. I have opera-ed before.  I was ready or so I thought.  Little did I know that the operas I have enjoyed have been Italian and until this night in Monaco I never knew why it would matter.  Why, for example, would it matter to see an opera set in Jerusalem sang in GERMAN.  mmmmmmm??. Would I even notice?  Yeah..turns out, I noticed.  Sitting in the second row I had an amazing view of the actors as the sang and/or spit their way through a dramatic and passionate performance.  And with the German language, there was quite a bit of spitting. I wonder if the furs were adversely effected by all the moisture in the opera house that night.

But it was breathtaking being there, experiencing the music played so flawlessly and the performance itself was amazing. An hour and 45 minutes long without break or intermission. An incredible feat.

Afterwards, we walked to our new favorite spot, a hotel Dennis knows well, just around the corner with views of the water and live music.  We ate tiny desserts and sipped cocktails while we watched the people and the lights on the water. 

Almost time to say goodbye

I must say, I am getting hardily sick of saying goodbye. It feels like its been a year full of farewells.  Some more heartbreaking and lasting then others. It has been six months since my dear friend Judy died and, as Dennis said this morning, it feels like so much longer. For me, time has flown by but it hasn't made the farewell to Judy any easier.  Its so true, some wounds no amount of time can heal.  I miss Judy and I think about her every day. She is among the list of people I miss back home that I stop and think about every single day.  With Judy I think of a fun memory like how I loved to make her laugh with a wild story or I still think "what would Judy do?" I know that it would be classier and better and lovelier than what I chose to do in that particular situation.  Judy always handled everything perfectly. She was flawless and effortless. If she knew I was saying this about her she would be so embarrassed and say "Oh Sarah, you have no idea...I am such a mess" But I knew the truth and so did everyone else who's life she touched...Judy was never close to a mess. She was elegant and kind, she had a great laugh a huge generous heart and a love of life and her family and people. Judy was a gift and I am still not ready to say goodbye. I am not ready to let go of even one second of one memory I have of her. I cannot except that she isn't back in her home with Richard and I can't just text her the minute I get back.  Her words still sound in my mind, her advice and kindness, her patience and love. She never stopped me, turned me away or shushed me. Judy believed in me, in my future happiness and in my ability to make a success of my life. She even sometimes succeeded in making a believer out of me.

A mere six months have gone by and life moves so fast. Here I am, back in France, facing the end of my visit and another goodbye. Yesterday we drove into Provence to visit vineyards and sample wine.  We had a jolly time eating and drinking along the way with Denise and cousin Bernard.

We stopped at a vineyard where 7 generations have worked there since 1813 and the current owner who gave us the tour, his grandfather was friends with Dennis' grandfather. We learned that the grape vine is a lot like a person. It can live for 75 or even 80 years but as it ages it produces less and less so they eventually must pull it out and plant new vines. They recently removed an area of vineyard that was over 75 years old.

The owner was very kind, explaining all about the different wines that they make and the flavors, even how the color of the wine comes about. He explained that the pulp of all the grapes are colorless or white but its the skin that gives wine its color. So with a blush or Rose' they allow the skin to remain for a short period during fermentation and then they remove it, so Rose' will be pink in color and stronger, bolder or more flavorful then white. With red of course, the skin stays on the longest giving it the darkest of color. With white? No skin left at all.

We of course enjoyed an exceptional meal along the road, stopping at a beef restaurant and I enjoyed some seriously good steak.



I won't mention what type of meat Bernard ate but lets just say it was from the unmentionable part of the cow.  UGH



So it is that I face my almost last night and soon Dennis will be driving me into Nice and off I'll fly, back to Florida and back to work.  I will have to say goodbye to Dennis then until he returns home to Florida on March 3rd. Goodbyes everywhere I turn.  At least with some of these goodbyes I won't have to wait for too long before I can say hello again.

When I grow up....

I want to be a writer. That is my dream. To spin a tail, to tell a story....a good story.  I love to read and since my mother taught me all those years ago, I thank her for this yet unfulfilled dream burning up my insides.

Local pork shop, by the beach

And here in France, along the coast of the Rivera, I hear the call to write even stronger.  There is something so romantic and novel about being here. Even among the modern life there are undeniable elements of old world lore and charm and thousands of stories lurking around every corner, just waiting to be told.

It has been raining out for the past few days but I have grown tired of being locked up in the house so twice I have dragged Dennis out into the wet weather to walk through the town with me and down to the water. Being here along the mountain side, everything is a walk down and a climb up.  When we headed out yesterday the sky was heavy and the clouds dark but off we went on my insistence. By the end of the stairs leading to the beach the rain had begun.  We ducked into a tiny restaurant where we sheltered, somewhat, from the storm brewing outside.  With coffee and a croissant to share, we watched the waves lashing against the shoreline.  How strange that only a few months ago this beach was full of Europeans enjoying the summer sun.

this was before we had to run home

Instead of lessening, the rain became harder and soon we felt drops on our heads, even from inside the cafe.  Dennis has not happy.

We decided to make a run for it...through the puddles and the driving rain.  No umbrella and neither of us wearing hats, even though Denise suggested it 42 times before we left.  Up and Up the stairs we climbed back to the apartment....soaked and shivering.  It was wonderful.

Poor, cold Dennis

New outdoor cedar bathroom

Olive tree garden

                                    So today when I suggested a

        walk...Dennis brought both umbrellas.  And good thing.  It started raining down on us while

 we strolled through the olive tree garden.  We were surprised by the changes that have been made since Summer.  The tress have been trimmed back and different flowers are blooming now, like magnolia.  They have built a new out door bathroom facility, very nice, from cedar wood and with a stone pathway.  Even for a bathroom, it is lovely.

We made it home a little less soaked thanks to the umbrellas and enjoyed hot chicken soup I had made the day before,  while Denise shook her head at our young foolishness for running around outside in the rain. How can I explain that there was nothing else I would rather have been doing? Well, curling up and reading a good book might be another choice....or writing a good book.  Other than that, running around in the rain with Dennis, in France...there is no better way to spend a Thursday.

The spring time is close

What can I say? I was attacked

I feel the love

The days are already flying past.  Already into day five of  my return to the South of France. Of course I nap a lot. Is it the jet lag or is it my way of relaxing? Perhaps it is my body's way of recovering from all the eating and drinking. Even the expresso can not keep me awake mid-day. Come night however, I am wide awake and my mind is spinning from the days events and the plans ahead.

So I reflect tonight, at 1:15 in the morning, about all we have done in the past few days.  Already this visit feels more intimate and better then before. I loved France from the moment we first met, yet now she feels more like an old friend welcoming me back after an unwanted absence.

No doubt these feeling stem from the many invitations we have already enjoyed from friends old and new. It seems like there is always someone to pencil in here or there to our calender, the people are so loving and generous that they want to share and share all they have with us.

We enjoyed the love of our brotherhood tonight in the French speaking congregation of Menton. It was difficult to leave the building because of so many people waiting to talk to us. And it is a small group in comparison to where we meet in the states. The language barrier does not feel like a barrier at all here.  And I noticed that the love was not just for us, the American visitors from last summer, Dennis and his American wife. No, they showed love to each other too.  Much kissing and laughing and hugging, from each one to each other one.  I was really taken back by it.  With the closing Amen we were surrounded in our seats and it was a great length of time before I could even walk away from the row I was standing in. People I'd met before and others that were complete strangers were smiling and hugging me. It was truly a beautiful experience. We were even given gifts by the children of a family we have grown found of. On our last visit they hardly knew us but reached out in generosity to us, giving us a car to drive while we stayed here for weeks and having us over for a lovely meal with their entire family. This time they are learning to speak English just to be able to talk to me when I visit. I feel ashamed that I have failed them in learning anymore French.  I promised them by next visit in the Summer, I would be able to communicate better with them. But every little effort brings smiles and laughter.  Such a loving group of people.

But France in general has been loving and welcoming.  Even to me, someone totally foreign and lost here.  I can say Bonjour and Merci and a few others and that is all.  I can understand some conversations through listening closely and watching body language and facial expressions but I am far and away lost in this language.  I look American, speak like an American and laugh like a chipmunk.  Yet, I am met with genuine good natured laughter, smiles and kindness everywhere I go.  Strangers are polite and helpful. Young and old speak greetings just when passing on the street.  If we need a question answered or Dennis stumbles over a word or thought, we are treated with patience and tact.  This country has had the worse reputation but not my last visit nor this one have I met a rude person or an unkind French citizen.  This is a lovely place to visit and the people I met are a huge part of why I enjoy being here so much. I feel ashamed when I think of how I may treat foreigners when I am home. Lesson learned.

I also must share that I love the pace here.  I love that business are closed for 2 hours for lunch and that no one feels guilty about it.  NO ONE.  It is the way here.  Relaxed and alive.  Even when we are rushing it doesn't stress me as it does at home. Why is that? Cooking dinner on the tiny stove in Dennis' mum's kitchen is really enjoyable, the food tastes better here, even when I cook it.  I am mystified as to why these things are. Perhaps I am just infatuated with this place. Its magic holds me tight in it's grasp. Even the roaches in the kitchen and bathroom after dark aren't rattling me as much this time.  It's true, love is blindness.

And again I say Bonjour

Here I am again, back in France. Farewell Florida! I traveled alone this time, leaving from West Palm and landing in New York, JFK. After a few hours I was sitting in first class, making friends with a former opera singer named Jill, giggling over the two flight attendants' that kept plying us with champagne.  Thank you Victor and Mark! I have discovered a new habit while here in France, that is, I always look at the shoes.  The men's shoes are really fascinating. Works of art really.

It was a short flight of only 6 hours and 50 minutes due to a steady tail wind. I guess we were being blown back to France in a hurry.

And it was a lovely flight, of course, with a constant flow of food and wine.  Jill and I both over ate and I rolled out of the plane at around 8 in the morning.  After having been separated from my husband for a cruel 2 weeks, it was a joyous reunion for us!  I was a mess without him, just ask my friends and family.  A hot, sloppy mess.  But that's all over now. Dennis and I were soon winding through familiar coastal/mountainous passes on our way out of Nice, through Monaco and home to Cap Martin. Nothing has changed here, where I spent many weeks in July sweating. But it is much much cooler now, thankfully. Even I have the windows closed against the damp sea air. It only took one night for me to see that my little insect "friends" are still living here, healthy and everywhere underfoot. They do seem slower due to the cooler winter air.  I feel a little more at ease towards them, but only a very little bit. Maybe I just know I can't win this battle and I must concede.

Dennis left me a welcome home gift of cookies on the bed. It feels like home now!!

random door in Monaco

with chocolate on the side

Hotel lounge

Monaco center, Casino in the distance, Cafe de Paris to the left

Before I even had time to wash my face and change my clothes, Dennis had me off again, this time back into Monaco to buy opera tickets for an upcoming performance next weekend. (Naturally) Of course, one cannot simply buy the tickets online, that would be so modern and simple.  No no no, you have to go to the casino where the box office is. So off we went and on the way we simply had to stop to see if anything has changed in our favorite principality since July.  The Cafe de Paris is the same, the crowd sitting outside is simply dressed in coats and boots now. Everyone is there to see and be seen. We had a wonderful cup of coffee at one of the hotels along the Grand Prix route, overlooking the cool grey sea.  But of course.

Even the bathroom signs are oh' so French, making me feel like a chubby American, as usual. I never noticed them last time. Love her hourglass figure! She has such flare....

We did a little window shopping and soon zoomed off again home to prepare for dinner at a friends house. Here in France, where I have spent so little time, I feel at home very quickly. The winding roads, the scooters everywhere, people walking right long the roadside where you can hardly fit a car and endless breath-taking views you just never get accustomed too.  It is impossible to capture on film all that there is to see here. Every picture I take seems small, too petite to capture all that I see and feel. I love this place!

On our second day out, we found a bakery where we could have an expresso to go! Our first in France. Very exciting..and very very small.  As Dennis pointed out, the coffee here will never warm you up, that's for sure!

Back at the house, the lemon trees are full of fruit and this heralds the coming citrus festival next week. I'm really looking forward to that! It is held in downtown Menton, barely a few miles from us. I'll keep you posted on that event. Until then..its good to be back.

Menton

And I miss you when you're not around.....

T-Minus three days since Dennis left for France and although I was a hot crying mess when we said goodbye, so far I've held it together. With a lot of help from my friends here in FL and in other corners of the globe.

First let me say that I fly out to meet him in 12 days. That being said, at the end of the day, he is the one I want to see, laugh with, tell my stories too and fall asleep next too.  Dennis is my favorite person, hands down and having him so far away is like having my heart cut in two.

Granted my heart is already feeling sore since just a few days ago my mother told me that the family has broken up. With me living here in FL, and everyone else I love being in Rhode Island...its the farthest apart we have all ever been. And now my sister Jen is talking about moving....moving states away from me and Rhode Island.  My mother is right, we are all broken up. And maybe its the way of life and maybe for many families they move far away from each other early on in their adult lives so for those people, this whining may seem childish and small town backwater hillbilly.  To those people, I am sorry.  But it made my heart sink to my feet when my mom said that...because she is right.  Things aren't the same, we aren't right down the street anymore and I am sad for that..and my heart is sore.  I can't watch a movie with Kate whenever I want, I can't stop over at my mum's with flowers for her on my way home from work..I can't show my dad the latest cool pictures I've taken or the new thing my phone can do...I can't meet Jen for lunch and go shopping...I can't mind the Gap with Stacy at a moment's notice.  I miss them all.  I miss my girlfriends and guyfriends that I could hang out with and eat fried chicken with and meet for breakfast and just laugh and talk and talk and even not talk with. I miss them, each of them, for their own unique and beautiful way and the light they brought to my life.  And even though we are still friends and I think of them each daily, I know that our time as it was is part of our history.  I miss my friend Richard every Saturday morning and I miss the smell of my parent's house...I miss my mom and my dad...and I miss teasing Kate and getting her to eat fruit I only pretended to wash :) I miss the things of home and I know that those moments are truly only memories now because they can never happen again.  Even if I lived there again, those times are past.  For better or worse, those times have past.  And I'm sorry.  I'm sorry most of all to my mom that those times are past.

Of course to any who know me or who have read this blog, you know that I am in a constant state of homesickness.  Really, homesickness has been my new place of residence.  I'm afraid I may never leave.

And now with my favorite person thousands of miles away, my family on the other end of the coast...I am feeling a little alone.

But I have soldiered on by eating, baking, cooking, shopping and more eating. Thank you to my friends here who have spoiled me and kept me busy.  And soon my friend Kerri will be here to occupy my days with laughter and alcohol and massage.  Then off to France for me...then back to Florida with my friend Stacy coming out to spend the weekend.  It takes a community to keep me busy and away from self-pity parties and self loathing.  I have my chin up and my attitude is bright as I face the work week ahead..even No Smiles won't bring this girl down!

But there is a sore spot in my heart because my family is broken up.  Who knows where Kate will go but I'm sure her feet will carry her to new adventures when she is ready.  Hopefully we each will learn to appreciate each other all the more from being apart and work to find the time to get together regularly.  After all, home is where your heart is, right? So if that is true, old ways may be past, but can't we make new ways? Can't we have new times in the future? I'd like to think so. I'd like to think that somehow, in the future, I'll be able to pop into my mom's house and bring her flowers for no other reason but because I love her.  I'd like to think that I can stop to show my dad the newest cool thing I learned or seen or heard. I'd like to think that I will sit on Kate's bed and she will dish on everything that has happened to her since we last talked and I'd like to think that Jen and I will meet again at the Frog and Toad and laugh till our side hurt.  Not today, not tomorrow... not now, but soon.