Lost in Provence

Ten Things You Didn't Know About Me

I normally wouldn't do one of these, since I suspect that most of you already know more about me than you would like, but to steal a phrase from the nice person herself, "a really nice person asked me to." So here it goes...

1. Though I like both chocolate and ice cream, I don't like chocolate ice cream. (We're starting with an easy one.)

2. I can tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. It is one of the few things I learned in college. It is certainly the one that people are most impressed by.

3. I usually avoid these "tell me a little bit about yourself" situations when at all possible because I haven't the slightest clue how to accurately describe myself... I am generous and selfish, fancy-shmancy and down-to-earth, incondsiderate and thoughtful, stubborn and accomodating, fun and dull, outrageous and practical, smart as a whip and dumb as a stump. I love going to parties and being social but love a quiet night at home just as much. I am a study in contrasts. I am, to use a phrase I just read in Vanity Fair, "like a vitamin that smokes."

4. When I was little, I suspected my father might be James Bond. I didn't really understand what his job was (he is an engineer), but he always had tons and tons of gadgets around and sometimes had to travel internationally. Also, he drank martinis. You can see how that would be confusing for a little kid. Before that, I thought he might be Superman. But this was because he had a framed photograph of himself on his desk where he is emerging from a phone booth in a suit, pulling away his shirt and tie to reveal a Superman t-shirt underneath (Dad, where is that picture now?). The glasses he wore at the time were really Clark Kent-y, too. Although, being the 70s, everyone's glasses were pretty Clark Kent-y, weren't they? Anyway, he could lift stuff that seemed really heavy to me and he always knew when I was doing something wrong, which made me suspect he could see through walls.

5. Celebrities I have met include Bob Seger, Roger Ebert and MTV's Martha Quinn. So, not ones that I (or anyone else) would have chosen. And for the record, Bob Seger is a real jerk.

6. I am a salt-aholic. It runs in my family. "Dinner conversation" at our house was what happened during the few moments when you were not being asked to pass the salt or asking someone else to pass the salt yourself. My sister and I have a pact that when we are old, if some doctor tries to put one of us on a salt-restricted diet, the other will do the humane thing and just pull the plug. Actually, you should probably file this one under "10 Things Everyone Knows About Me."

7. After college, I did some voice-over work for TV and radio ads. I was once paid $300 to say just three sentences. Cha-ching!

First Day of Kindergarten

8. I had a happy childhood (see pics). And look, my mother dressed me like one of the Brady kids and combed the curls out of my hair so I'd look like Marcia for my first day of kindergarten. Groovy.

9. I have never had surgery or broken a bone. I got my first cavity when I was 31 years old.

10. I heckle the news. "I'm glad you asked about British Petroleum's comittment to the environment, Pamela. But first, let me make a quick call to my PR girl and thank her profusely for making sure that CNN sent a 26 year-old reporter with a journalism degree from Tallahassee Junior College to read softball questions directly from the list we faxed to her. After that, we can talk about what happened on last night's 'American Idol!' No, wait, that one's on the list we faxed to FOX. Nevermind." So it's not much fun to watch TV with me. Or it is, if you like that type of thing.

The End.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Wash Separately Three Times

I'm sorry, I don't get this one. I mean, I understand all the words. I know what they mean in English. I fully comprehend the sentence. But the meaning escapes me. "Laver séparement 3 fois." "Wash separately three times." What?

Does that mean to wash it separately from everything else the first three times, then wash it normally with the other whites after that? Or does that mean wash it separately, with the other whites but run the load three times? Every time? Or do I only have to wash it separately the first three times, after which I can throw it in with anything I want? Even colors? That would be a good trick. I may try that last one just to see what happens.

I don't get it. And I don't get why this particular item would need special washing instructions in the first place. It's just a hand towel, for God's sake. And not even one of the fancy show-towels. Just an everyday, plain, white, cotton towel. Help me out, here. Am I missing something?

Please tell me if I am, I mean, I do miss things from time to time. Not too long ago, a man I know said to me, "How can you sleep when there are dishes next to the sink?" I was profoundly confused, even though I understood every word in that sentence, too. What do dishes and sleeping have to do with one another? The sink is nowhere near my bed. The dishes aren't loud or anything.

It took several moments for the paradigm to shift, then I realized that because the man posing the question was a maniacal neat freak, it was incomprehensible to him that a person could be relaxed enough to actually fall asleep knowing that there were household chores unattended to in another room. And as a person whose cleaning products have been known to collect dust, the whole premise just didn't make any sense to me. No wonder I was lost.

You see, Anais Nin was right: "We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."

So I am trying to see this towel as it is, not as I am. Unlike me, is it unconcerned about the effects of reckless water consumption on our planet's dwindling natural resources? Does it suffer from a debilitating compulsion to wash itself excessively? Is it an isolationist? Does magical thinking cause it to repeat everyday activities three times in the belief that this will influence the results of the Superbowl? Or does it just crave attention?

I am trying my best to understand you, white towel! But I think I am going to need some help analyzing your special needs. So I put the question to all of you: how do I care for this towel? While I eagerly await your responses, I think it would be best to soak the towel in its very own basin of warm water, next to a copy of John Cowper Powys's A Philosophy of Solitude. Wait, make that three copies.

Winter Arrives in Provence

On a Warmer Day

Winter arrived yesterday morning, announcing its presence with thunder, lightning, rain and hail at 5:00 in the morning. It's cold and windy now, though I suppose if you are reading this from Paris, London, New York or Chicago, it probably wouldn't seem very cold to you. After all, we're expecting a high of 39 degrees today. But it's cold to us, believe me. Until now, we'd been enjoying unseasonably warm weather and the outfit pictured at left was about as bundled-up as you needed to get to spend the day outside. In fact, over the weekend we saw several people taking walks in short-sleeved shirts.

Pink Rose

It's officially winter now, though, and the Mistral is giving us a little taste of what's to come with 35mph winds today. The Mistral, in case you didn't know, is a freezing-cold, katabatic wind that comes whistling down from the Alps and through Southern France. If you ask the natives, though, they'll tell you that it comes to us all the way from Siberia. All the Riviera's problems seem to come from Russia lately; if it's not the mafia, it's the wind.

Driveway and Gate

The Mistral supposedly comes in three-day cycles, though these can run concurrently. At speeds that average 60-90mph and have been known to reach 150mph (correction: kilometers per hour - will I ever get used to the metric system?), it's not surprising that Peter Mayle described it as a "brutal, exhausting wind that can blow the ears off a donkey."

Having your ears blown off is just one of the dangers of this driving wind. Side effects attributed to the Mistral read like the disclaimers at the end of your standard prescription drug ad: headaches, insomnia, mood swings, irritability and depression. In fact, an old French law stated that anyone driven by Mistral-induced madness to commit a crime would be acquitted, even if the crime were murder. I wonder if those Russian mobsters realize that one is no longer on the books...

The Book Quiz

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (Penguin Classics)

Mark Twain

You're Adventures of Huckleberry Finn!
by Mark Twain
With an affinity for floating down the river, you see things in black and white. The world is strange and new to you and the more you learn about it, the less it makes sense. You probably speak with an accent and others have a hard time understanding you and an even harder time taking you seriously. Nevertheless, your adventurous spirit is admirable. You really like straw hats.

Like Internet quizzes? With your responses to just six questions, Blue Pyramid analyzes your personality and reveals your literary type from 64 possible outcomes. http://bluepyramid.org/ia/bquiz.htm

So others have a hard time understanding my accent? That must be why I get so many funny looks. And here I thought it was the straw hats.

The Road Not Taken

The Road Less Traveled

Our walks generally tend to follow one of three routes: the road to the hilltop ruins of Cadenet's ancient castle, the path into the vineyards near the bed and breakfast down the road, or the trail that leads up behind our neighbors' house, through a tree-enclosed, forgotten vineyard and finally ending with a tromp through the woods where we attempt (without success) to create a path we will recognize the next time around.

Olive Trees

On Sunday the sky was sunny and the temperature was around 65 degrees, so we put on comfortable shoes and set out. On a whim, we started up the path that goes up behind our cherry and olive trees. In the past, we've only used that path when walking back from somewhere else and deciding to pick some cherries on the way home. We didn't think it really went anywhere else - after all, Johann grew up here, and if there were something back there, he would certainly know, right?

How wrong we were. After skirting the backsides of the cherry and olive groves, the path continued downhill and connected to a paved road! The road was lined with perfectly manicured olive trees, well-tended vineyards, ridges of evergreens, views of the Luberon mountains and the kind of houses that are big enough that their owners feel that the house needs a name of its own and has it carved into one of the stone pillars beside the entrance to the driveway. 

Vineyard and Luberon Mts.

Imagine our surprise! It was like a little secret garden back there, full of potential picnic spots. We tried to identify them from the road, but figured we'd wait until after hunting season to actually venture past the paved surface. (The hunters around here are permitted by law to hunt on any private property that's not fenced in, and so far, the list of targets inadvertently acquired this season includes a chicken, a horse, a man on a scooter who came around a corner at the wrong time and an old woman who was in the forest picking mushrooms.)

Our list of resolutions for 2007 now has a new addition: whenever possible, to take the road less traveled by. It does make all the difference. 

A Saturday in Aix-en-Provence

Statue of Roi (King) René

Greetings from Aix-en-Provence, city of fountains and birthplace of Paul Cézanne and Emile Zola. Aix is just a twenty-minute drive from our house, but no matter how often you go there, it is the kind of city that never ceases to charm, making even residents fall head-over-heels day after day.

We had lunch at a little restaurant along the Cours Mirabeau, the main road through the city that is flanked by plane trees and broad sidewalks, perfect for people-watching. 

The Cours Mirabeau

The backdrop consists of gorgeous stone mansions from the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries that have since been converted into chic shops and restaurants with extremely posh apartments above.

The weather was warm and sunny, and the sights even more enchanting than usual. I always love seeing the city's Christmas tree in front of the statue of King René, who is holding a bunch of Muscat grapes, which he is said to have introduced to the area in the 15th century.

Pianist and Onlookers

Even the street artists do things with a little extra class here. Forget a grubby guy strumming away in front of an open guitar case, which is what you get near any 'L' stop in Chicago. On Saturday an ambitious young man went to all the trouble to haul a piano out onto the sidewalk and put on a concert right there in front of the Belle Epoque café and Monoprix. I hope whatever he made that day was worth his while, because I would love to see that again. And you can't help but love the little girl in the pink beret with her dad holding a bouquet of mimosa, they're just so French, n'est ce pas?

 

Street Artist

A bit further down the street we saw this artist (right), with his enormous canvas rolled out right there on the sidewalk. The piece appeared to be a combination of architecture and dessert, a painting of an ornate bridge whose spires turn into ice cream cones. I couldn't figure out what it was that I liked so much about this picture at first, then it came to me: his palette. Not the colors, necessarily, but the fact that it is old and wooden and, well, just classic. It looks like the type of palette you can picture Cézanne himself using, and it just makes the whole scene, in my opinion.

All and all, it was a postcard-picture-perfect day. Wish you were here!