Any excuse for fireworks!

Here in the outskirts of Menton, France we are enjoying the continued celebration of the Lemon Festival.

Last night was another parade night with the rumor of fireworks. So at 9:30 P.M. we drove our 1980s Mercedes down to the town and parked as close as we could to the road block. Walking towards the parade barrier, we selected a lovely little street side restaurant where we enjoyed a delicious cappuccino and the taster plate of miniature desserts. As our server pointed out, if we couldn't choose which dessert to try, try them all! From the brownie to the tiny tiramisu, I was enthralled.

Plus, the tiny desserts were served, not on a plate, but on a piece of slate!

Soon, the street lights went out, cluing us into the start of the fireworks. We paid our bill and dashed outside, joining the crowds on the street as they made their way down to the steps that lead to the beach.

With the waves of the Mediterranean lapping near our feet, we watched as Menton light up the night, in tribute to Lemons.

So much fun on a Thursday night in March.

The Sunbathing dog

I know, you are tired of reading about people's pets and the funny darling things they do, when you don't think it's all that funny.

But trust me, MY dog Anna is different. She is more human than I am. And I was able to capture a few moments of her doing what she does that makes me laugh and I wanted to share:

Exhibit 1: Every morning, when the sun is out, you can find Anna sunbathing on the front balcony. Just look at her facial expression.          B L I S S.      I look just like that when I am sitting in the sun. All she needs is an exotic umbrella drink in her paw!

Exhibit 2:

Here I am proud to say I captured the absolute essence of Anna, when she is around tall grass. Usually Anna can't control herself around even short normal grass. She has to roll in it like a fool. But with this high ornamental grass, she throws caution to the wind and rolls like there is no tomorrow. She usually gets completely lost from my view and tangled by the time she is done.

That's all for now. I'm sure she will do something again soon that will be worthy of note. :)

Between the Sea and the Mountains

Here in the region of the Maritime-Alps, between the Sea and the Mountains, there is a town called Menton and they are all about lemons. Every year, in fact there is a festival in the town square dedicated to everything lemon, or I should say, they make it all out of lemons.

On a sunny Monday in February, Dennis and I made our way down to Menton Center between the Casino and the bus station. There is a park that fills the space between the streets coming and going that they have walled off for weeks. We have had sneak peaks of what they are creating as the metal structures emerge above the fences but no clear idea until today when we paid our 9 Euros a piece and walked inside.

The theme this year was the regions of France. As you walked along the garden, you saw on display an exhibit for each region, depicting what they are known for, what they offer, their specialties.

From Brittany to Champagne, even Bordeaux with a huge bottle of wine.

I was looking forward to seeing what our region, the Maritime-Alps, would have on display. We are between the mountains and the sea and sure enough, there was a huge lemon and orange mountain, covered in snow on one side with skiers and on the other, people swimming in the sea.

And, again..everything made with lemons and oranges.

An Orange and Lemon Chateau 

I love this clog!

And of course, the region of  L'lle de France complete with a lemon Eiffel Tower

I want to take the lemon Metro!

We completed the tour with a crepe made with sweet lemon filling and Grand Marnier 

Lemon lighthouse anyone?

A pretty excellent way to spend two hours on a Monday morning

I will walk 5 thousand miles

All right, its true, I am bound to exaggerate. Its only been three miles. I have been walking three miles a day. I start from my house and head toward the "staircase" that leads to Le Corbusier. The stairs feel like one million steps, especially if you climb them after the entire walk. I need an oxygen tank to make it to the top. With so many tourists always around, I find myself embarrassed to be heaving and panting and dripping all the way up the stairs. I will look behind me and check in front of me before I attempt the climb. Then I scurry up the stairs like a rat, often having to stop half way up regardless if anyone can see me, because I'm faint and dizzy. I try to act like I meant to stop and survey the view, when really I'm about to black out from my elevated heart rate. But my pride notwithstanding, it is an amazing walk and for most people, my husband included, the stairs are not a big deal. Le Corbusier  actually has a tripadvisor page you can check out:

 (http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Attraction_Review-g187236-d521060-Reviews-Promenade_Le_Corbusier-Roquebrune_Cap_Martin_French_Riviera_Cote_d_Azur_Provence.html)

This cliff walk takes you around "The Cap" or peninsula of land where I live. Circling toward the beaches that run from Roquebrune to Menton and then into Italy.

The views are breathtaking from every direction, at any time of day.

The narrow path that winds up stairs and down, with the crashing sea at your feet and wild flowers and trees growing where ever they can between you and the water's edge. Throughout the walk, there are staircases (there are always staircases) that lead downward to the sea, allowing you to jump in for a swim in the warm summer months. Just be careful! The rough Med can take you by surprise and dash you against the unforgiving rocks. Even the man who designed the path itself drowned while swimming just off those rocks.

So up and down and over and through, I make this 3 mile hike from my house to the beaches of my town and then I climb home again. My favorite time of day is late afternoon, when the sun is descending, just about to dip behind the mountain where Monaco rests at its feet.

I never tire of the views. Each corner you turn here catches your breath. The sunlight flashing of the water, the rocks jutting out into the sea, the mountains filling the skyline with seagulls laughing in the wind.

Not a bad way to exercise.

Far from my sight, out of my heart

I learned a new French expression. Loin de mes yeux, loin de mon cœur. It means, far from my sight, out of my heart. I thought, given my situation, it was very interesting. It was used to express how we need to keep up with those we love, otherwise we will lose them in time. If we don't work at our relationships, distance and absence will cause them to fade.

Since I heard it, I've been applying this in all sorts of ways. Good and sad. I can't see my family or close friends regularly, so I need to keep in contact with them in other ways so that I will not lose being close in their hearts or they in mine.

On the flip side, if I hang in there, sugar and sweets will finally leave my heart and I will not long for them anymore, if I can just keep them out of my sight long enough. Maybe alcohol too.

It reminded me of something someone said when we first talked about moving to France. I knew I would miss everything and everyone around me and I was told that in time I wouldn't need them anymore and they wouldn't need me. In time, we would continue to live new lives and the dependency we had on each other would wane. They would forget me and I would forget them. Life would naturally move forward. And eventually there would be no place for me with them, nothing to miss.

The idea was reassuring in one small way because I knew I wouldn't feel lost and lonely forever but a lingering sadness took its place. I don't want them out of my heart.

Can things and people you love be out of your heart with just less time in your sight? Well, I don't think about iced coffee or chocolate smoothies like I once did. And cheese-less pizza strips or thanksgiving sandwiches (with the cranberry sauce and stuffing). But what about people and land? I live by the Sea here and it is beautiful yet I miss the RI beaches. I miss the trees of my home and the places I know. And the people? Forget it. They are far from my sight but not out of my heart, not yet. I want to hold each face close to the eyes of my soul, study each one to remember and then tuck them safely away in my memory until I see them in the flesh again.

So this expression is a warning to me. To not let the distance of my physical sight to cause me to forget those I love and miss. I will see them again soon. And until then I will carry them close, very close to my heart and see them clearly in my mind's eye.

Back outside for a walk

The weather here in Roquebrune was thawed and the sun is beckoning. So with my nifty orthopedic inserts tucked into my sneakers, my Ipod on and Anna along, I head out to walk the Cap.

Its been weeks since I took this walk, down the 1 million steps to the cliff edge of France and then around and up and over and through the rocks that embrace the sea.

I was sweating within minutes, naturally. Anna wanted to stop at every tree, fence, flower and spot of dirt. We had to weave through the Italians grouped around each corner, wearing coats and hats and scarves..and heels, discussing the scenery and where to have dinner. The men mixing concrete and patching holes left from the winter erosion. The smell of flowers hung in the cool afternoon air and the waves splashed merrily against the cliffs. I wanted to jump in and swim.

It felt like spring, although Dennis assured me that true spring is several weeks away. My blood was singing and my feet were spry, so much so that I ran ...yes, ran up every staircase we encountered (and there are many).

But by the time the 45 minute walk was over and we had reached the street, I was very tempted to call for a ride home. After resting on a bench and bathing a little longer in the setting sun over Monaco, Anna and I began the climb uphill toward home. It was an uphill climb all the way, ending in 4 flights of stairs to our apt. It nearly killed me in my present bread and cheese drowned body (see the previous blog entry) but I am still alive and ready to do it all again.

Cheese and Bread, my friend and my foe

When we first decided to live in France, I knew that staying away from the cheese and bread would be hard. I knew that control would be difficult and that I had an immense struggle on my hands.

So I didn't struggle, stay away or control myself. I ate every piece of bread and sampled every chunk of cheese that was placed in my path. I even sought the cheese and bread out when it wasn't readily available. For example, while in Italy at an open market, I waited in line to sample the Parmesan, even though I had no intention of buying. I sampled several tables, in fact. Every table, to be honest.

I tried to rationalize, another sign of my addiction. "I will walk to the bakery and get the bread and walk back" as if that was enough exercise to justify the consumption of   the    entire    loaf!

Do you know how delightful a slice of goat cheese spread on a piece of warm sesame seed baguette is? What about adding an inch of butter between the cheese and the bread? How about topping it off with fig preserves?  Well, let me just say, I'm drooling as I type.

Well, the gluttony has caught up with me and I sit before you, a woman condemned. My jeans are tight, my coat won't button and a woman I know recently remarked on how much weight I've gained since moving to France.

So now, because of my lack of self-control, I am cut off completely from the cheese and bread. I sit at the dinner table, while the rest family enjoys the warm bread and plate of cheese..and I drink my water. Like a prisoner in my own home, I prepare the bread and cheese, watch others eat it and then clean up after them. Will I start fantasizing about what I can no longer have? No doubt. Maybe I will be able to enjoy the cheese in my dreams.  It is my own fault. I said yes yes yes and now its a world of no.