Atypical 60

Do You Know The Way To St. Tropez?

Posted on July 10, 2016 by Catherine

Thursday, June 23, 2016

6:15 AM and waking up to clear skies! Today we are going to St. Tropez. It will be the first of two visits. We’re going next week to visit Bonaparte’s dad but today we are going to St. Trop to run an important errand—my Rondini purchase.

I got hooked on these sandals a few years back. The sandals are custom fit and constructed in the little studio in the rear of the shop. As with great leather, the sandals conform to the shape of your foot with wear and become even more comfortable over the years. There is literally no “break in” time either.

And, for the price, it is a far better deal than you can get with the mass-produced sandals sold at retail stores in the States.

Hidden France–L’Estagnol. The Greatest Little Beach On Earth.

Posted on July 9, 2016 by Catherine

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

The alarm was set for 6:15 this morning and went off good and loud! I can’t waste time in bed. Today we are returning to the greatest beach in France! No. The greatest beach on earth—L’Estagnol!

The best beach ever!

The first time Bonaparte took me to this gem of fine sand and clear sea was when his mom had a home in Ensuès la Redonne—a little village outside of Marseille. L’Estagnol is also a beach where Bonaparte spent a great amount of time during the summers of his youth when his family visited Cabasson. In fact, Bonaparte reminds me quite often that his family discovered L’Estagnol (just like Christopher Columbus discovered America)!

Columbus had three ships when HE went to discover America. Bonaparte’s family had a Citroen when they discovered L’Estagnol!

Bonaparte’s stepfather, Jean Casadesus, explaining to the kids how they will go on to discover the greatest beach! I think Bonaparte is more interested in the food!

It is about an hour-and-a-half’s drive from the apartment in Théoule. And when leaving early in the morning, you beat the traffic and can enjoy the sights along the way.

Any, I did wake up a bit nauseous due to all the wine I’ve been drinking! Vacation means drinking during the weekdays. I just cannot handle that anymore. I’ll stick to cidre! A glass of Alka-Seltzer helped settle my stomach—thanks to Dr. Bonaparte, and we hit the road!

Actually another chocolat chaud at Mc Do was the real cure!

And listening to Nostalgie radio in the car, I discovered a new favorite song: “Bad Boys” by two of my favorite singers—Laurent Voulzy and Alain Souchon. I tell you, I’m still singing it in my head!

Once we exited the highway and started driving on the smaller roads, our route was full of charm and spectacular views.

Vineyards and Olive trees lined the way.

The views are so pretty….

We arrived at L’Estagnol around 9 AM. There is a 9€ charge for parking, making the beach a bit more private. And the grounds leading to the beach are shaded by the surrounding trees, making it a bit cooler and more “parked car” friendly.

There is a little area where children can take donkey and horse rides.

If you have children with you and want a break from the beach–have a ride on an ass. I don’t mean MINE silly!

Yet another form of life that ignores me and keeps on eating!

This guy took a look at my Scholl’s sandals and ran to me. Not to greet me but to munch on my footwear. Good thing I wasn’t wearing my Rondini’s–or I would have had him for dinner–and not as a guest!

And L’Estagnol holds a special place in my memory bank because it was the first time I swam without my top on! I’ll have to do that again when I lose weight!

The trees in the back end of the sandy shore remind me of the beaches I’ve been to in Australia—but without the waves!

The trees give shade when you’ve had enough of the sun!

There are no rocks on this beach either! This is an important little fact. Many of the beaches, east of Nice, along the Côte d’Azur are quite rocky and if you aren’t a fan of stepping into water with a bed of small and not-so-small rocks, L’Estagnol is your kind of beach!

Look how calm the water is!

The beach really is the true definition of pristine. The water is so crystal clear that the fish swimming by are in full and bright sight!

The water is so clear. I’m sorry I forgot to take a pic of the little fish!

The “waves” are so tiny. Like “leetle small boned French pipoule”. In fact, the water’s only motion is the little waves created by the gentle rocking of boats in the nearby distance!

The little waves are caused by the gentle rocking of boats..unless the Mistral decides to pay a visit!

Brice de Nice. The only man who has ever attempted surfing in these calm teeny-waved waters! (BTW, if you are looking for a hilarious French film, might I suggest Brice de Nice written by and starring Jean Dujardin!

1957. L’Estagnol. Bonaparte’s sister Agnes. Look how far out she is. What a pleasure!

2016. L’Estagnol. Look how far out these bathers are and the water is just barely to their knees!

You can walk out into the water forever, still see the bottom of the sea’s floor and still not go over your head—every woman’s hair dream!

And this early in the morning we finally heard the chant of cicadas. I do believe their chant was a welcome song and they were extremely happy to see us return!

A nice view from the rocky trails that Bonaparte snapped. Hey. I’m not walking over there–my clumsiness is too strong a force!

L’Estagnol. Tree in the water. 1954 (photo by Bonaparte’s family)

L’Estagnol. June 2016. An almost identical pic taken by Bonaparte!

The sound of a helicopter flying low for a nearby landing joins in the with the cicadas. Bonaparte tells me that Francois Hollande’s “summer” home is just over the group of trees to our left and the helicopter is most likely landing there. Is Hollande on strike too?

Or perhaps Hollande is trying to escape the headlines in the papers!

People start to arrive. Bonaparte tells me that mostly locals are here. He can tell by their accents. Just like in the States, the Southern accent is different from other areas of France. German and British accents also dot the coast. I don’t hear any other American voices.

More people arrive and enjoy the water. He may not be a surfer like Brice, but this guy was paddling all day!

The scent of flowers can be caught during one of the frequent breezes and it is sweet and pleasant and smells beautiful when it is mixed with the scent of salt water.

The water is freezing but so refreshing. Bonaparte won’t join me because he won’t swim in a freezing sea.

As I stand in the water I see young children who are fascinated by two large fish swimming by. I’m intrigued by the school of minnows circling my feet. To my right is an older man walking in the water for his morning exercise. THIS is my kind of gym! He is also reading the morning paper as he walks. Multitasking at its best.

Boats floating nearby, children enjoying the refreshing water. It’s a great place!

To my rear is a young mother running after her naked toddler. She is trying to slather sunscreen on him and he is having nothing of it. He just wants to frolic in the soft sand. It brings back memories of when my own kids were young!

Within an hour the little beach is full of life. Guys playing soccer are out of harms and bathers’ way.

People with their floating devices relax atop the water because they know large waves and a strong current will not bring them drifting out to sea.

A dad with his son enjoying the fun!

If we lived in a perfect world, all beaches would be like L’Estagnol!

Bonaparte walked up to a menu standing on a wooden cabinet by the steps leading down to the beach. He saw my favorite seafood “seiche” on the menu. (Cuddlefish). He surprised me by making reservations for lunch.

Our lunch was enjoyed here!

What more could I ask for on this perfect day?

Barefoot and on our way to a fun and delicious lunch!

My Seiche La Plancha. Grilled Seiche. I sucked every bit of this like a vacuum cleaner! The seiche was perfectly grilled. The gourgette and eggplant were the best I’ve ever had. Hell, I even wolfed down the salad!

Bonaparte enjoyed his Salade Nicoice!

Later on we made our way up the steps and into the restaurant, Chez Richard. The restaurant, rustic and homey, was a true beachy place for a delicious lunch of my beloved seiche. Bonaparte enjoyed a Salade Niçoise. My first reaction to my meal was the huge portion. Like a glutton, I ate the entire thing. *burp* And I enjoyed every. last. morsel!

And, eating lunch outdoors in my bathing suit was everything I dreamed of. The vibe is so casual that you don’t have to cover up if you don’t want to. Diners in swimsuits. Diners in cover ups. Diners dressed in ensembles. It’s all good!

After lunch, it’s back down to the beach for a bit of a lazy half sleep. How come the sound of the sea’s water hitting the shore’s edge is so relaxing, calming, and mesmerizing, but the sound of water dripping from a faucet is annoying and causes anxiety? I’m such a deep thinker.

Still life with my beach accessories! A ten-year old Vera Bradley beach towel that we take along to France every year. My raggy old Longchamp bag. Scholl’s sandals. My trusty Wythe Hotel tote and my three-buck sun hat from Walmart! I’m Cote d’Azur chic–in a beach bum way!

Back home to another dinner on the terrace, and while watching the news we find out that plastic bags will be banned in France starting July 1^st. The country is going back to a paper-bag only policy. I hope we do that in the States.

Bonne Nuit!

BTW. Here’s Laurent Voulzy and Alain Souchon with my new favorite song: “Bad Boys”. (Thank you YaDuMondeBalcon for a great video!)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged France, French Beaches, L'Estagnol, Travel | 22 Comments

On The Abbaye Road…

Posted on July 8, 2016 by Catherine

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

I woke up at 6:30 AM today while Bonaparte slept soundly. Apparently between 6:30 and 7:00 AM is the only window of time where I can get Wi-Fi on my iPhone.

In addition, I received a phone call from a number in Long Island. My voicemail isn’t working either. So now I don’t know if someone died or got injured. Maybe it was a wrong number.

Remind me to make like ET and leave my “phone home” next summer.

Anway, it’s partly cloudy today. Since we’ve both been out in the sun or rather one of us who hasn’t been sitting under the umbrella and not in the sun for the past few days, we figured it would be a good idea to play tourist.

We’re going back to the Abbaye du Thoronet. The Abbaye, better known simply as “Thoronet”, was a home for the Cistercian monks back in the 12^th and 13^th centuries.

If you are thinking about visiting–here’s the lowdown on the tarifs!

Our Abbaye Road will be the ones along the coast to St. Raphaël and then we’ll switch over to the highway. Thoronet is such a peaceful and calm place to visit. The grounds are beautiful and we’ve both wanted to return.

We stopped for gas at Total and headed into the McDonald’s that is on-site. Or rather we headed into the Mc Do, as the French refer to this fast food bastion. Don’t judge either!

Yes. THIS is what breakfast at McDonald’s in France looks like..note the warning on the coffee and hot chocolate…

My other regret is that I didn’t purchase a “‘Eppy Meal”. I could have gotten some cute toys! Check out the baked goodies!!

Travel Tip: Don’t dismiss McDonald’s when you are in France. I’m not telling you to eat all your meals there. But for a quick breakfast when you are on the road and want a cup of coffee or a croissant, Mc Do delivers the goods. It’s a different animal than here in the States. Regulations must be followed strictly. The pastries are of very good quality and the chocolat chaud is superior. There is also free “wee-fee” available.

Just as I started washing my hands in the very clean and spotless ladies room, the water gushed out of the faucet and all over my dress. I keep forgetting that the water pressure in France is quite amazing and comes out full force! Remember that for future visits!

We are ready to get into the car and I spot the latest issue of Charlie Hebdo. Donald Trump is on the cover. Can’t I get away from this man’s face for at least two weeks? But in true Hebdo form, they are making fun of him. We buy the paper!

They could have made him a bit more l’orange! PS. What he is saying is not nice!

The return to Thoronet was a bit disappointing. The first time around we were able to go into the olive tree orchard and enter into little areas of quiet gardens. We were also able to go around to the back of the abbaye to take photos.

This time, gates were locked and visitor space was limited. Oh well, we were still able to take some nice photos. Warning–pic heavy!

Exterior view. Notice the lack of people–that’s what makes this a good place to visit. It’s a hidden gem of France!

Pretty steps..

..incredible to see that this ceiling still has remains of paintings from the 12th century..that’s some long-lasting paint..

…this statue of Mary and Jesus looks too modern to be that old. I’m wondering if this was added much later on. I’ll do some sleuthing.

View from a window out to the grounds

Another view

The courtyard from above. Isn’t this building beautiful?

The inside of the church. Even if you are not Catholic or a believer, THIS is a great place for quiet reflection and thought.

I felt like a monk in my sandals. Do you think the monks wore Rondini sandals? As an aside–if you DO visit this abbaye or any other attraction or place that has the slippery stones and tiles, by all means–wear shoes with strong soles. The leather soles on the bottom of these sandals were perfect because I didn’t slip or slide. You do not want to hurt yourself while enjoying the sights!

Another exterior view.

A little fountain…

..and another fountain. I’m sure this one got a ton of use from the monks many centuries ago.

Again–a naked face except for the eyes. It’s amazing how well a blow out lasts in dry weather. The hair still looks great!

OOTD. More like OOT Every D. This shift of seasons past from Banana Republic was a “go-to” on this trip. It also has bode well for my weight gain. My years-old, raggy Longchamp bag was also used every day.

A quiet passage. Look how bright and immaculate the stones are.

Among the historical ruins.

Escargot in training.

Stained glass window.

Another view of the courtyard.

And another pic..

Still, if you are in the Var or anywhere on the Cote d’Azur on vacation, by all means make it a point to see the remains of this once thriving abbey. There’s a chance we just returned on a bad day!

Bonaparte, ever the navigator, thought he knew a shortcut to somewhere when we left. I have no idea what somewhere he spoke of because his accent is now sooooo heavy that I’m begging him to just speak French. I can understand him better that way.

The “shortcut” ended up bringing us a great, great surprise.

We ended up in Draguignan. And in driving through the village center I noticed a sign. It was a sign for the American Cemetery. During WWII many soldiers landed in towns along the Cote d’Azur. Draguignan was one of them.

We followed the signs, got a parking space immediately and made our way to pay our respects.

Another hidden gem. Rhone American Cemetery in Draguignan

This little side trip that we stumbled upon was almost as emotional as our visit to Normandy Beach. The amount of soldiers buried was not a small one. And it broke my heart to read where so many of these young men were from.

We paid our respects in an impeccable setting.

It was nice to see that flowers are still being placed at these graves

We thank you Alfred Amann for giving up your life so selflessly.

It also broke my heart that they died thinking the atrocities during that war would never happen again. We, as humans, just don’t learn—do we? Look at our world today. So much hate and anger. Wars that are falsely declared by politicians who only want power. Men who try to lead on fear. It’s awful.

A memorial is also on the grounds. I’m telling you when I went into that building, I cried. I cried because during WWII men and women gave up their lives so selflessly. And to pay them back, we’ve regressed…

In the memorial. Solace.

One of the many illustrations and notes that local people and visitors left at the memorial. Never forget–but we did and continue to do so.

Thank you, France. Thank you for placing our soldiers in eternal rest in such a beautiful setting. Thank you for remembering them so fondly. Thank you American government for maintaining the grounds so impeccably. It is nice to see our tax dollars being put to very good use.

Our last stop on this now sunny day was a trip to FNAC in Cannes. There is an important need to add to my collection of French pop music. I got lucky!

I cannot stop listening. All CD’s have been uploaded to the computer and are now in my car. I’ll have memories of this trip every time I listen…

We also spotted a film starring Danièle and also starring Jean Gabin! It was like another sign from her that she was watching over us. We bought it because we don’t have it at home.

Danièle looks so serious! I think it is because she had to watch out for naughty Jean Gabin!

Gossipy French Movie Trivia: During one of my stays with Danièle, I mentioned that I loved Jean Gabin. Her eyes almost popped out of her head. She told me that when she was in a film with him, he wanted to sleep with her and she refused. The above is the film she spoke of! He got really angry at her. She also said he had bad breath. It was so funny. I did tell her that I still loved him as an actor!

Demain tout Commence!

Here’s a beautiful song by Florent Pagny “Le Soldat”….

Posted in Abbaye du Thoronet, American Cemetery in France | Tagged Cote d'Azur, France, Humor, Travel in France | 27 Comments

Summer Has Arrived in France!

Posted on July 6, 2016 by Catherine

Monday, June 20, 2016.

Today is the first day of summer. I should be jumping for joy because the weather is gloriously beautiful. But after today, the days become shorter. And shorter.

Am I the only one out there who can turn summer’s welcome into misery??? Once again, Bonaparte is beaming with pride that I can manipulate what is quite possibly the happiest day of the year into the most depressing. He told me so. His words: “Ou ahr zee étoile of zee miserable”. (Translation. “You are the star of the miserable”!) He also said I’m now almost 100 percent French. In theory.

Personally, I see myself more as “Étoile de la mer” The star of the sea!

Come to think of it, I AM pretty much L’Etoile de mer. Our bodies are almost the same. She even wears bras!

I’m putting my bathing suit on and hoping that my gut isn’t sticking out too much! Oh wait. It is. I act so French as I tilt my head to the side and give a huge shrug to my reflection. At 61 years old, does it really matter if my gut sticks out or not? At least if a shark gets to me, he will have a nice chunk of meaty humanness!

What would Virginia, the girl who sells bathing suits at the pool, think of my cheapo bikini. The top was eight bucks from Target and the bottom was five bucks from Walmart. I’m a regular fashion plate!

Sorry to sound boring, but we’re going back to the pool. Despite my pleas of going to the beach, Bonaparte has explained to me that Monday is not a good beach day here on the Riviera because all the people who worked during the weekend are off on Monday and therefore the beaches will be crowded.

NOTE: This is a picture of L’estagnol beach that I snapped the following MONDAY. You call this a crowd? Just sayin’! ( I will be posting about this spectacular beach–stay tuned!)

It’s weird because Bonaparte’s accent is getting heavier and he’s starting to speak to me in French—as though I am fluent!! I’m fluent in ordering food and my shoe size and cursing in the French language. It’s cool though. I happen to like the way he is more relaxed and animated when we’re in France. He is definitely happier when he’s speaking in his native tongue!

Upon arriving at the pool we noticed there were little guests who must have smuggled themselves in for an early morning dip in the water.

Three little quackers to greet us!

Three little ducks! I hope they don’t leave any bodily functions behind. Better yet, they better hope the chef from the Club’s restaurant doesn’t see them. Duck confit could very well end up on the menu tonight!

And they seemed to be making themselves quite at home in this pool!

I need to make sure those sitting ducks leave this pool. After all, we Americans invaded Normandy and helped to save the French from the Nazis.

I was afraid that the middle one would drink all the pool water!

I invaded the pool and saved the visitors from being attacked by this dangerous army of ducks! They fled after I came at them with my camera! I’m not that kind of hunter little duckies!

It doesn’t take much time until more people show up. Families arrived last night. It’s nice to see the pool full of people rather than full of wild life!

Over by the diving board is a young girl who is having a panic attack because she won’t jump in the water. Her brother tries to encourage her. Ten minutes of this young girl standing on the diving board, twelve feet above the water and screaming in her adorable British accent that she can’t jump is starting to get on my last nerve. Where is this one’s parents? Are they deaf? Did they take this opportunity to start guzzling wine by the bottle?

The diving board where Tarzan’s daughter was attempting to jump is to the far left. The plank is hidden by the trees. Just imaging the screaming!

My reading is being greatly disturbed. I walk over to the pool and get into the water (Without getting my hair wet. Hey. I’m also putting my fake tan in danger!) I paddle over to the boy and tell him to tell his sister that he will “spot” her.

Out of fear that I’m some sort of crazed woman, the boy complies and tells l’il sis that he will spot her.

She continues screaming that she can’t jump. Why can’t this child Brexit the diving board?

I tell her brother to tell his sister that the water in the pool is salt water and there is so much salt that she will float back to the top as soon as she jumps. (It’s true. The water is heavily salted. So much so that even a swimmer as heavy as I am will float to the top).

With growing fear, he conveys this message to his sister.

She jumps. But I think she jumped from the fear of looking at the expression on my face!

And she keeps jumping the rest of the day. And she ends up having a blast!

My good deeds for the day are finished. I’m a regular saint. First I save the swimmers from the vicious wild ducks and then I save this girl from having to be taken to the doctor for anti-anxiety medication. I also save the entire population of sunbathers from having to listen to the high-pitched screams of this little girl.

Why couldn’t she be French for crying out loud? Had she been a little French girl, she would have just quietly shrugged, given up and gone back to her chaise and read Camus, Proust or Pagnol.

This is why French children are so well read. Have you ever read Pagnol? The man had a gift for telling a story!

Skinny lady is back. I tried to take a photo of her but she was so thin that her body didn’t photograph. Her tanned skin is the color of my brown Longchamp bag. She is as skinny as a q-tip. She walks slow laps around the pool and then stops to take a cigarette break. There is no rule about not smoking at the pool. It’s France!

She’s done this every year since we’ve been coming here. Her bobbed black hair is the heaviest part of her body. And in some strange and bizarre way, seeing her brings familiarity and a sense of comfort to me. I like seeing her.

And I can bet she refers to me as “Zee wolee-polee pale American beech“. I wonder if she likes seeing me as much as I do her?

Across the pool is the woman I’m calling “Helen Mirren” because she’s about my age and looks great in a bikini. I’m so intimidated! I suck my gut in and begin to read my next book, “The Little Paris Bookshop”. After reading the first chapter, I’m hoping this snoozefest of faux literature gets better. I have a strong suspicion that it won’t.

Helen Mirren would show up in great bikinis every day. She even bought one from Virginia the bathing suit girl! Who says older women cannot rock bikinis??

Après pool we take a drive into Grasse. It’s my annual trip to reload on my favorite summer scent of all time. “Fleur d’Oranger”. I got hooked on this scent the first time I traveled to the South of France about 8 years ago. Even though I still have half a refill at home, it’s good to have a backup.

Random flower pic. This was taken outside our apartment. So it is kind of on the way to Grasse–right?

The drive to Grasse is pleasant and the beautiful countryside never gets boring.

We arrive at Fragonard and make our way down to the boutique.

Did you know that Fragonard parfumerie is named after the great artist Jean-Honore Fragonard? Click to see his paintings but scroll down till you find them.

My 2016 version of the front of Fragonard. I take the same picture every year!

Copper vats at the parfumerie….

….Bottles of essential oils…

…and a Frenchman who isn’t on strike! What’s not to love about this place?

We are greeted by Eva. She’s so cute and bubbly. Are you reading this anyone who thinks the French are rude? Because they aren’t. I make Eva laugh when she suggests a different scent and I tell her it gives me a headache—and I give enough people headaches as it is without having one of my own.

My Fragonard BFF, Eva. Such a Jolie Blonde! We had lots of laughs together!

She then has me try out the new “Fleur d’Oranger Intense”. The scent is captivating. Seriously. It is. It’s so …intense. But, Fragonard doesn’t sell refills of this so I pass. I know I will regret not making the purchase later on.

Now that I’m home, I’m regretting not purchasing this. Had I been an heiress, I would be able to hop on my private jet and return to Grasse. Oh well….

We engage in some serious Franglish and before I know it, a nice big box containing my regular Fleur d’Oranger is in my hands!

I mistakenly cut the bottom of this photo off. But I think this is Louis Quatorze. Whoever it is, he must have smelled nice!

Travel Tip: Fragonard (as well as other perfumeries in the area) gives tours of their facility in Grasse. The tour is quick—about 20 minutes. But it’s fun and interesting. There is no charge for the tour.

If you want to shop at the boutique and forego the tour, you can. I’ve made a shop stop here every year. The soaps and creams make great gifts for friends and family!

On the way back home (I love referring to the apartment as “home”); we missed the same turn we miss every single year! We took the long way home and marveled at the beauty of the way the yellow and ochre buildings blends in so well with the bright blue sky.

Our daily stop at the market brought to fruition our only argument during our stay. I saw veal kidneys at the boucherie. I wanted them. Bonaparte wanted steak. He won. To sooth my bruised spirit, I headed over to the snack aisles and picked out a couple of items that I knew would feed into my self-pity!

I could have wiped the entire supply of this out. I had an “itch” for Pitch!

Peanut butter in a can?? This is epic greatness. I could open the can and just stick those little brioche-covered chocolate bars into this all day. That boy’s face is a bit scary though!

Dinner on this longest day of the year was fun. Bonaparte had his mega binoculars at the ready so he could zoom in on the behemoth cruise ships on the horizon.

Lots of activity on the Mediterranean tonight. An old-school fishing boat made me happy. We saw a snorkeler—thanks to the binoculars. A few yachts and smaller boats dotted the sea.

The swallows are flying high. Bonaparte said that’s very good for the weather. It means it’ll be dry and no rain.

Bonaparte may have used the binoculars to look at the boats, but I’m a voyeur. This is the old Pierre Cardin house just up the street–or rather “mountain” from our apartment. It’s the coolest!

As the sun begins to set, the sounds of the evening can be heard in the distance. The frogs are singing in their low cadence. The sea is hitting the rocks at a faster pace. It must be due to the many boats in the water. The motors on the small boats are humming and it all sounds so lovely and soothing.

Another day has passed. But it was the longest day of the year.

As I step from the terrace into our bedroom, I turn around to see that the moon has left a path of light on the sea as if to invite me to step out and take a walk over the Mediterranean.

Moonglow on the Mediterranean. Isn’t it pretty?

That would make a nice dream. Wouldn’t it?

Dreams make me think of this song by Mama Cass. Her voice was also very soothing.

Posted in fun in france | Tagged #Humor, Cote d'Azur, France, Travel | 40 Comments

Back in the d’Azur Groove! (Sing it Loud)!

Posted on July 5, 2016 by Catherine

Saturday, June 18^th

It is, once again, a pleasure to wake up with the doors that lead from the bedroom to the terrace wide open and to greet the sun with a smile and a spray tan that hasn’t faded!

Weekends can be pretty crazy around the beach areas so we’ve decided to take the day easy and relax by the pool. And since it is early in the morning, we’ll take a trip into Cannes to Marché Forville. We can pick up great produce and cheese and whatever else strikes our fancy!

Bonaparte has left the apartment to make his daily trip to the little l’epicerie down by the pool. The shop is owned by a husband and wife who have been living in the area for a long, long time. They are always cheerful and welcoming and Bonaparte looks just as forward to seeing them each morning as he does to his daily croissant purchase!

While he’s gone, I get ready. Since my face is fake tanned, I’m happy to not load a ton of makeup. Actually, in the process of doing my face, I realize that I packed way too many cosmetics. Anyway, I got my mirror and tweezer and sat down on the terrace to pluck away. The lighting here is great for plucking those unsightly chin hairs!

Quickly, I apply a neutral shadow over my eyelids. Then I pencil in my brows. A few coats of mascara, a swipe of liquid liner, a bit of blush and clear gloss and I’m done. That’s it!

My three-minute face!

Bonaparte is back and making the coffee. The morning air isn’t dreadfully hot so there’s a coolness surrounding us and it makes the hot coffee taste more delicious and gives off a feeling of warmth.

The morning view never fails to please. It remains the same but changes every day in small ways. On this morning, there are no boats within view. The sea is as smooth as glass and she is somewhat silent. The cicadas aren’t chanting and the wind is still.

The sea is incredibly calm with no boats in sight. This is a view we never tire of. Year after year!

I throw on a simple gray maxi dress over my bathing suit. Slide into my sandals, grab my older-than-dirt Longchamp bag and we’re off to the market!

That’s one of the things I love about being here. It’s so casual. An old Longchamp bag and old Rondini’s are a perfect fit for running errands!

Travel Tip: When running errands or out and about in a resort or summer vacation area, it’s really best to get the job done early in the morning. The longer you wait the more traffic you’ll have to deal with and the larger crowds. Tired? Sleep on the beach or at the pool. You’ll still be rested and your tasks will be completed in a timely manner!

We parked at the lot across from the Market. I’ve mentioned this before, but the first hour’s parking is free. There are quite a few parking lots throughout the area where the first half hour to first hour are free. If you have a car, take advantage of it!

The Marché Forville is always a fun place to be..and the fruit and produce…Wow!

Marché Forville was thriving. Vendors calling over to you to try their products. People inspecting each piece of fruit to make sure that perfect ripeness has been set. Sounds of laughter from friends running into one another. The scents of fruit and flowers giving off a delightfully dizzying aroma. The waft of spices. Men and women emptying their trucks of yet more produce.

Check out the produce!

Vendors are always happy and willing to engage with customers!

It is a colorful, fun, busy and happy place and the hectic vibe adds to the charm!

I almost fell into these bags head first because the scents were so enticing!

Cheese…and..

…more cheese! We purchased the Herbes de provence Chevre and it was spectacular!

If I lived around here, my home would always be filled with a ton of fresh flowers–they are so inexpensive!

But before any purchases are made, we take a walk around to check out the best prices. On one end of the market cherries are 6 €, 95 a kilo. (That price isn’t bad considering a kilo is the equivalent to about two pounds). At the opposite end. 3 euros.

We bought the less expensive cherries and they were so sweet and delicious. They were gone in two days!

We stop for our annual supply of tapenade and luckily, the tapenade guys are up and running. They are also selling a ton of product.

The tapenade guys! The guy on the right gave me so many samples of different tapenades that I had a complete lunch!

Bonaparte wanted to also stop off at Nicolas for wine, and at Ernest for his favorite pissaladière, an onion, olive and anchovy tart that is best served hot!

Too bad we didn’t have Nicolas in the States. The people who work at the various locations throughout France are very knowledgeable about their wines! Naturally–it’s France!!!!

Ernest. For all things prepared! Did you know that “traiteur” is French for caterer? I just found that out.

Bonaparte’s pissaladière is resting on the platter above the little pizzas to the left!

Our expert timing allowed us for a return to the car within the hour of gratuity parking!

Back home to drop the goodies off, and literally throw towels, goggles, sunscreen and other necessities in a bag and make a dash for the pool!

On our way to the pool I practiced the same words I’ve repeated almost every day during our stays here in previous years. And I’ll repeat those words every time we arrive at the pool and I am greeted by the pool guy! Only this year the great pool guy from the past two years isn’t here. His replacement is a young man with a smile!

Bonaparte explains to him that I’ll be practicing my French….

I greet this young man with “Bonjour! Je voudrais deux matelas et un parasol s’il vous plaît!”

He smiles and upon paying him for the cushions and umbrella, he tells me in broken English “Thanks you very much”!

I’m so fluent…………….in my broken French!

It was great to be back at the pool. We took a little walk around and snapped some pics!

The too cool diving board gives the pool quite the quirky appearance!

I stood up on one of the pool’s decks to snap this pic of the snow-tipped Alps. We are in the department of the Alpes-Maritimes! Isn’t this view beautiful?

We both like the pool best this time of day!

The new pool guy is making sure everything is orderly!

OK. Time to give my fake-tanned feet a rest!

Slathered with sunscreen and under the umbrella, I started the first of three books that I brought along—The Apprentice by Jacques Pepin. The book is an autobiographical account of his life and career in food. He also adds recipes too! This is my kind of book because I get to enjoy all the food he writes about without adding calories to my well-rounded body!

I’m envious of Bonaparte as he swims because if I go into the pool, my fake tan will wash off. I have to wait a few days. Besides, if I get my hair wet, my bald spots will show through. The things I do for beauty…..

A bit later and it really feels like home. “The Bathing Suit” girl has arrived!

Let me explain. Every summer, at the pool, there is a girl selling bikinis and cover-up skirts. She sits at a little opened cabana of sorts and the swimwear is displayed on the counter.

An assortment of bikini tops. I swear my goal for next summer is to fit into one of these!

She has the perfect body. She also has a great tan and great hair. She should be illegal! Every so often she will take a walk around the pool area wearing a different suit with matching flowing skirt. She doesn’t have to say a word. Her body and breezy tone sell the suits for the swim apparel company she is representing—Dolores Cortés.

Virginia! The Bathing Suit Girl! How adorable is she? I should copy and paste this pic to my fridge as inspiration!

This year, I muster up enough courage to talk to her because I want to write about her in my blog. Her name is Virginia and she’s worked as a graphic designer since 2006. She loves fashion and I must say, fashion loves her!

She’s very sweet and pretty much popular with the regulars as many of the women come to greet her with hugs and pecks on each cheek.

Virginia gets the crowds going. She has a steady clientele! It’s really nice to see!

When she told me that she needed to work on her tan I almost passed out! She was pretty tanned to begin with.

I’m feeling bad because I never lost enough weight to actually buy one of the suits, but I’ll make it my goal for next summer!

Three hours of pool time gave way to gray clouds hovering overhead. Bonaparte is convinced that our entire trip will be a wash out. I ignore him and am happy I remembered to bring my umbrella with me.

We left the pool to return, once again, to our happy place. Geant!

Presently, I feel like I discovered gold. I headed over to the cosmetics area, which, in itself is an oasis of beauty products so wonderfully displayed. I needed moisturizer because what I thought was moisturizer that I picked up yesterday was “shampooing”.

Look at this cosmetics display. In a hypermarche no less–the equivalent of one of our large supermarkets. Ain’t no displays like THIS in a supermarket back home!

This is almost too much for me. I’m ready to go into a frenzy!

Anyway, I saw a display against the wall. Little spray tubes of perfume. I had never seen such a selection in my life! I could see the seed of a new obsession being planted.

I’m in love with these scents. In LOVE with them. Woody Citrus is my fave!

While Bonaparte started shopping for food, I started playing with these fragrances from adopt’. Made in France AND the fragrances are long lasting! I casually slipped two fragrances into the cart: Amber Orange Blossom and Woody Citrus. Hey. I need fragrance to place into my purse anyway. Just in case I start to smell bad! These little tubes are a steal at 7€ each! .

Our food shopping completed for today, we headed back to the apartment in the rain.

Back “home”the rain has stopped and sun has come out once again. But the weather is also cool as I sit on the terrace writing and observing the goings on below me.

Birds are chirping but the cicadas are in hiding. It’s clearly too cold for them.

A lone man is walking down the path below and his dog is slowly lagging behind.

The sea is relatively calm with one yacht anchored in the distance, and a sailboat floats closer to shore. Three motorboats are racing and leaving a trail of little whitecaps and waves that are shaped into large curves. The yellow buoys in the water bob up and down in quick rhythm. And the sound of the small waves hitting against the orange rocks are the percussion to the songs of the birds flying over the sea searching for a seafood dinner.

The one mosquito bite on my face itches and I am overjoyed by the scent of the Amber and Orange Blossom that I bought home from Geant!

Palm tree and azaleas to my left. Bright purple Rhododendron to my right. Aubergine petunias in a large ceramic pot all contribute to a view that brings a simple pleasure to me.

Another view from the terrace but this time focusing on the landscape!

Bonaparte is napping because he’s disgusted by the weather. I feel bad for him, but I’m enjoying this time to collect my thoughts and write.

I make my way into the small kitchen to start the prep for this evening’s dinner.

We’ll start with the Tapenade we purchased at Marché Forville. Naturally, we have a fresh baguette. Bonaparte also made sure to pick up some saucisson. He’s having his favorite –Tournedo of beef and I’m going to enjoy my fresh Lotte—that’s French for Monkfish! (I’m so pretentious!)

I’ll also serve a salad—just to be healthy. And for dessert figs and cheese! That’s until Bonaparte takes the ice cream out of the freezer!

As we sip our aperitifs, we agree that it is just nice to sit back and talk about nothing and everything.

After dinner, Bonaparte, in a panic, announces that we forgot to eat the Pissaladière from Ernest!

Don’t worry Bonaparte. The pissaladière isn’t going anywhere!

We can have it tomorrow!

Sunday, June 19^th.

Today is Bonaparte’s Birthday! He is 72 years old and has the energy of a man thirty years younger! Today is also Jean Dujardin’s birthday and my parent’s 62^nd wedding anniversary. I hope my parents are looking down at me with love and affection!

Happy Birthday Bonaparte! May you have good bread and wine!

It’s early in the morning and I’m up before Bonaparte. It must’ve poured last night because looking down from the terrace, the ground is wet and the large drops of water are dripping from the plants and flowers.

The skies are overcast.

A half hour later, the clouds have left and the sun is shining. Mother Nature has given Bonaparte a nice birthday gift! The air has warmed up and it looks like another day at the pool!

We ran into the owners of L’epicerie. They informed us about the restaurant that we enjoyed so much, L’Aiguille, (click for the story) did, in fact close and that the owners would not be opening another restaurant. I tell you I felt so local to be a part of that conversation. But I also felt sad that the restaurant is gone.

The pool was pretty much empty and there wasn’t much going on. The only excitement was when I stood up and the bottom of my bathing suit felt a little loose.

Not only was it loose, but it untied and was falling off me. Thank God nobody was there to catch that comedy of errors! Four hours of sitting under the umbrella and the thunder and rain crept in.

This was pretty much the birthday boy’s expression when my suit bottom became untied!

Four sunny hours of reading for me and swimming and baking for Bonaparte (He’s his own birthday cake!), ended with the sound of thunder and a sprinkling of rain. I guess the sun became tired of shining.

Sunday isn’t the same here in France as it is back in the States. Many shops are closed. Our very own Geant doesn’t open on Sundays until next week—at the official start of summer.

Bonaparte was visibly shaking with worry that he wouldn’t be able to find a baguette tradition. I mentioned to him that there was a small boulangerie in St. Raphaël.

Off we drove. The back roads along the shore. Past L’Esterel. And past some wonderful vistas.

Sorry, I know it’s raining but I forgot to snap a photo of l’esterel in the rain! I had to add a sunny pic instead!

We found the boulangerie and once again, Bonaparte received another gift in the form of an opened shop! Not only did we get the coveted baguette, but we also picked up a Tarte Tropezienne as a substitute for birthday cake!

Le Fournil du Port is the little boulangerie that was opened on Sunday. I don’t know WHAT Bonaparte would have done without his baguette! I shudder at the thought!

It’s a good thing it was Bonaparte’s birthday or I would have started picking at this baguette!

The surprises didn’t stop. He was over-the-moon thrilled when I received a text from Oona wishing Bonaparte a Happy Father’s Day! Yeah. I was also Father’s Day!

I’m giving the writing a rest for now dear journal. It is off to celebrate Bonaparte’s birthday with a nice dinner, his baguette and the pissaladière that he forgot to eat yesterday! Oh. And the Tarte Tropezienne too!

Tarte Tropezienne. One of the greatest desserts of all time.

And for anyone who has a birthday coming up. Here’s a French Happy Birthday song for you cleverly performed by JB Craipeau!

Posted in Cannes, Marche Forville, St. Raphael, Theoule sur Mer | Tagged #Humor, Cote d'Azur, France, Travel | 35 Comments

The Return to France. Ready. Jet. Go No!

Posted on July 4, 2016 by Catherine

Caveat: I’m writing my posts about our trip to France as they appear in my journal entries. Also—this is a different kind of travel post about France. There are no smoke and mirrors here. This is not the jet-set view of the Cote d’Azur. It is MY view—and you know what that means.

I would say it’s a bit of a cross between Anthony Bourdain and…

Yes. No smoke and mirrors for me. My tone is a bit Anthony Bourdain–a bit rough. Well, I’m a girl–so maybe Antoinette Bourdain

Rick Steves

But my sweetness is more like Rick Steves. OK. I’m a girl–so maybe Ricola Steves. Like the cough drops!

I’m the girl version of these guys.

The Cote d’Azur Unplugged.

So grab a coffee or wine or a stiff drink and enjoy my raves, rants, complaints and tons of fun with my France 2016 visit!

Thursday, June 16, 2016. 8:30 AM.

Boarding Pass √

Carry On √

Makeup √

All Other Stuff –I Guess √

And that’s it for my big checklist. After all, I’ve been packing and repacking for about a month. And I know that I’ve still managed to over pack! (More on that in a later post…)

True to form-the rain arrived on the day of departure. I’ve never ever left for France on a clear or sunny day. That’s in ten years. Maybe bad weather is good luck for me.

It’s weird. I’m not excited—but I am happy. The lack of excitement is because it’ll be the first time we’ll be in France without being with Daniele. This is not the time to wax sadly about her passing or about Paris. It is the time to enjoy!

It is also the time to get dressed. I’m flying comfortably, but not like a slob. I’ll save the slob travel look for when I return home. Instead, I’m wearing a simple Lilly Pulitzer shift dress and on my feet I’m wearing my pink pointy-toed Gemma flats from J. Crew. (Note. I have to say, these shoes, as pretty as they are when new; look like crap after a few wears.)

This is the dress I’m wearing. Unfortunately, I look NOTHING like the fetching young lady modeling MY dress.

My obsession with arriving early at the airport—especially for international flights, proves well. Checking in was a breeze. We were also pre-checked at TSA so we went through security with no issues.

I’ll admit. I was a bit disappointed because I didn’t get the thrill of a pat-down from the fun folks at TSA, but perhaps they just were not interested in me! It was my goal to have to go into that little tube and get a complete check. Oh well, maybe next time!

Part of the thrill of flying for me is getting the pat-down! I’m such a hot mess these days that TSA couldn’t be bothered touching me!

We arrived at the gate and despite the timeliness of our arrival, all the little cubicles with the USB ports to charge your iPhone were taken up by the morons who couldn’t leave their damned cell phones for two minutes. You would think that the way these people are snuggled into these tiny spaces with their luggage and personal items, that these USB cubicles are the new homeless shelters.

Seriously. I need a charge. You would think these selfish and entitled travelers would seek out a USB port closer to their gate. Do these idiots not realize how self-important I am???

After a complete walk around the airport and trying the outlets in over twenty empty cubicles, I now realize why everyone is at our gate. None of the outlets in this damned airport work. Wait. I finally found one! It takes me fifteen minutes to fit the plug in without falling out. But at least I’m charged!

BTW, this is one of the FEW operating outlets to charge your phone or tablet or what ever. It’s over by Gate 20.

Philadelphia International Airport is so kind to those who travel. CNN is televised at each of the airport’s gate areas. Nothing like watching about all the bad things going on in the world—especially when one is getting ready to fly overseas. Hey Wolf Blitzer. Can you report any other news besides the horrors of what’s going on in this society? I’m flying in a while! I don’t want to be scared!

Thanks Wolfie! Got any other fun news for travelers?

Now I have to go to the bathroom. Ugh. Why did I drink so much water before I left? The ladies rooms at Philadelphia Int’l. are so disgusting! I feel bad for any foreigner whose first impression of our great country is the restroom at this airport! They would think all women are filthy slobs who “make” (I’m a classy broad. In my family we use the word “make” for number 1) on the toilet seat rather than in the actual toilet. WTF? Why can’t women who pretend to sit on the toilet seat because they are afraid to sit their oversized asses on the seat, wipe their pee-pee drippings when they are finished? They are so concerned about the germs of others, yet they leave their prissy little germs splattered on the toilet seat for others to enjoy! Welcome to the filthy hygiene habits of the American woman!

Hurray for gender equality because I’m going to start using the men’s room. It’s probably cleaner!

Back at the gate and observing other travelers. (As though I’m perfect *eyeroll*) Sitting across from me is a man with shorts so baggy that I thought they were his boxers and he forgot his pants. On his feet are sandals. This shouldn’t be a problem, but his toenails are yellow and curling in at the ends. He also has toe dandruff that is visible from where I am sitting. I pray that this man sits nowhere near me on the plane. He may be drunk because of the way he’s babbling about the things that Wolf Blitzer is reporting.

I look away and see a woman who is also at our gate. She is going to France, the food capital of the world. And she is eating—or rather gorging, a ton of food from a Styrofoam plate. She keeps piling the food into her mouth and is talking while shoveling the food. I think she may be practicing for a food eating contest.

I’m pretty sure the woman shoving food into her mouth was getting ready to compete in an eating contest with this guy!

My appetite just got lost. If only I could clone this woman and have her follow me around, I might lose some weight!

In the meantime, I’m discussing these observations with Bonaparte.

He is beaming with pride! He told me that I have officially become French because I can complain about others better than any native Frenchman or woman he has ever known.

Well, I’m French enough to complain about everything from the time I wake up until I go to sleep. I even DREAM complaints while sleeping!

The plane arrives. We board. Happily, the plane is less than half-filled. It’s going to be a great flight!

Dressed in Lilly and taking a minute to stop complaining. OK. Maybe half a minute!

Had Air France not gone on strike, our flight would have been better because we would have been on a nicer aircraft. We also would have received better meals. Thanks Air France. Thank you for making us have to fly American Airlines!

Our plane awaits us. In the rain! Again.

Dinner tonight is a choice of chicken or pasta. No way would I go with any form of meat with this airline. The pasta is awful. The macaroni is sticky and the sauce is like glue. I don’t finish it. The salad? I ate it dry. Bedbugs probably taste better than this garbage. At least the bugs are chock-full of protein!

I’m a woman who LOVES to eat. My hips are proof–so’s my ass, but even I couldn’t finish this garbage!

The cost of a seat in economy is airway robbery and American Airlines can’t give us a meal that is composed of organic ingredients rather than the fake butter, fake salad dressing, fake cheese and a dessert that is loaded with ingredients I can’t even pronounce?

Next I decide to watch TV. One of my favorite shows, “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”, is on the current American Airlines view list. I guess since it’s always raining whenever I fly, this is a good show to watch. And it is, but thank God the plane is almost empty. I laugh so hard and loud that I wake the sleeping passengers up!

I love everything about “It’s Always Sunny….”–especially Danny DeVito!

Sorry! Bonne Nuit!

Friday. June 17^th.7:30 AM

J’arrivee in Paris—But We Have Another Plane to Catch!

American Airlines wants passengers to think we are all the Beatles exiting the plane to crowds of waiting fans. That’s why we didn’t land at a gate. This is the second time that we’ve flown American Airlines and had this happen. We just don’t learn.

The plane disembarked on the tarmac. A set of portable steps allowed us, with carryon luggage in hands, to try to make a graceful attempt in walking down to a waiting bus.

This is what you get when you pay over $1,000.00 to fly American Airlines to Paris! You get to pretend you are John or George or Paul or Ringo!

The Beatles were luckier. At least THEY had someone else to handle their carry on luggage!

Note to self: Write to American Airlines asking for a 20 percent refund check because my flight did not make it to the terminal. I had to take a bus.

It was a bit weird to land at CDG in Paris and not get a cab to Daniele’s—but life changes and this time around, we were headed off to collect our baggage and then through the airport to the terminal to catch another plane to Nice.

Thankfully, Air France “ended” the strike. We may have had to change our flight to Paris, but our flight to Nice was still unaffected!

Also thankfully, the airport wasn’t that busy on this Friday morning. We breezed through customs and got our luggage with no problems.

I snuck into a ladies room—which, by the way was incredibly clean. I changed from my dress into shorts, a striped shirt and my Bass Weejuns. I also applied deodorant. Lots of it.

My feet were more comfy in these shoes anyway! You’ll later see how filthy the airlines got my cute pink suitcase!

This is just too easy.

I spoke too soon.

Let me just say that the actual staff of Air France is wonderful. They are helpful. They are incredibly nice. They rock their uniforms. The women all have their hair back either in severe burns, chignons or French twists. Their makeup is impeccable. And the men look just as chic!

I was hoping to ask one of the attendants to help my put my hair into a pretty French twist! Look how chic the Air France women are!

But before I continue, I have to say that the electronic kiosks are way out of date at CDG. We had to pay for our larger luggage. No big deal. Right? Well, yeah. The kiosk we were trying to use kept rejecting our credit cards. We were told by a staffer that the rejection of credit cards in the kiosks is a common occurrence and that the staffer at the check-in would take care of the payment.

These kiosks at Air France are a joke. They don’t accept American cards–that’s what the man from Air France said.

Five minutes later, our larger luggage was rolled away and paid for. Thanks to the assistance of a human being.

However, when it comes to keeping order in the process of boarding—it is mass mayhem.

The flight from Paris to Nice was akin to that of a NYC subway car during rush hour. In the middle of summer. With no air conditioning.

And because of this, the ground staff was pacing the crowd. Eyeing everyone’s carry on. Many passengers were called out because their luggage was just a tad too large for the French version of carryon. Like the thin and small-boned Gauls, French carryon luggage is just as small-framed. And many of those pieces came under the scrutiny of Air France and had to be placed into baggage.

One staff member kept walking back and forth past me. She was looking at my Longchamp weekender, which was filled to capacity. Then she would bring her eyes up to my face. My resting bitch face would not work to keep my luggage with me. Instead I gave her a kind of tilting head with a begging smirk kind of look.

Almost three weeks worth of clothing was stuffed into this and I had to try to make it appear smaller!

I also kicked my weekender in at the sides to make it appear smaller. Either that or she loved my get up of shorts, striped shirt and loafers. My bag passed the test and I was able to carry it on with me.

There was no rhyme or reason or organization once the announcement was made to board the plane. The staff tried to allow priority boarding board before everyone else. And they did a decent job. It was the mad rush after priority that caused a minor riot.

They say the most intensive French sport is that of cutting ahead in line. I mastered that one a long time ago. I pushed and shoved in the most aggressive but discreet way. After all, I needed quite a bit of overhead space for my bag!

No. I was the one cutting in line. There ARE no excuses!

We boarded the aircraft and in true form, the rain came. And it came as soon as we boarded our flight to Nice. And it came pouring down in the form of severe thunderstorms.

Hard to believe that rain delayed our flight to Nice from Paris for over two hours. (Really?) I seem to travel only in bad weather!) It was even harder to process the thought that we were either in the eye of a storm or rather the eye of the Air France strike which was not yet quite over. The latest news is that the Air France strike will resume next week.

Anxiety rules when you are stuck on the runway and cannot wait to get to your destination.

Anyway, once we were off and running, the hour and a half flight had us landing in Nice to sunny skies! It’s great to be back on the Cote d’Azur!

NOW I’m getting excited. Look at that view of the Cote d’Azur..

…and we’re getting closer…

..and closer!! And the return is happening!!!

We were greeted by the gentlest breeze as we exited the terminal at the airport and I swear I could hear Daniele’s voice whispering “Bonjour ma Cherie” as the breeze kissed my cheek. She was looking down at us and smiling!

It was also a warm and fuzzy moment of total familiarity as we hurried to get the car and headed out of the airport to highway A-8 and on our way to the apartment in Theoule. Driving along the route gave a feeling of returning home. Well, ok maybe not home, but almost home!

On Autoroute A8. Got the Nostalgie station on the radio. I’m pumped!

The community was a bit on the quiet side when we arrived. Bonaparte found out later from the proprietor of the little Epicerie by the pool that the number of visitors was down from last year. He said because of the tragic events in Paris some foreigners (i.e. Americans) were afraid to travel to France.

I’ll drink to that! Quite a few customers that I’ve had in Retail Hell basically told me I was nuts to travel to France due to terrorism. I don’t think these women watch the news at home. Orlando? Sandy Hook? Columbine? Daily drive-by shootings? Um…where’s the danger?

And as is our usual routine, we dropped the luggage off and headed to Geant Hypermarche. My happy place! It’s the greatest supermarket in the world.

Geant Hypermarche upped their game. It is now Geant La Galerie. With shops like H&M among the boutiques. This is my French happy place!

We loaded up the car with way too many food items we didn’t need. We also stocked up on laundry detergent, tissues and toilet paper! You know—the necessities.

I don’t even EAT burgers but who could resist this Burger Cheese? And it’s cheddar!

Last summer I made friends with the Mojito Girl. This summer it’s the Olive Man!

Bonaparte had to physically remove me from these cans of Mascarpone. I had one to my mouth! I love Geant so much!

We headed back to the apartment in anticipation of an easy dinner of one of those delicious little roasted chickens and various salads. However, by this time, I was starting to feel a bit “punchy” –as though I had too much wine or something. It had been over 24 hours since I slept.

We ended up enjoying our little meal on the terrace and gaining a feeling of calm and peace as we looked out at the sea and just sighed and smiled.

Yes. This will be a great trip! This already IS a great trip!

But I’m about to pass out from lack of sleep so I’ll let the sound of the sea rock me to sleep!

And here’s a song about travel. Francoise Hardy and her husband Jacques Dutronc. “Puisque Vous Partez En Voyage”!

Posted in France, humor | Tagged #Humor, France, Travel | 29 Comments

Je suis arrivée à la maison. Yes. I’m Back Home From France!

Posted on July 3, 2016 by Catherine

It’s been a fun, fun time on the Cote d’Azur. I have SO much to tell you about.

But today, I’m spending the day uploading photos for the posts about our trip. I had no idea how many photos Bonaparte and I took.

Anyway, I just wanted to write a post to tell you about a great gift that Bonaparte received from his father! FAMILY PHOTOS! Yes! OLD SCHOOL VINTAGE FAMILY PHOTOS!

It’s so exciting because I love living vicariously through his family. They are just so….so…FRENCH!

I gotta stop talking. Have a look at some of the vintage pics that ~~I, we,~~ Bonaparte received.

Enjoy!

Bonaparte, his sister Isabelle and their mom Evie. La Ponche, St. Tropez. 1947. Check out how chic Bonaparte’s mother is.

L’Estagnol plage 1957. I’ll be posting pics of this same beach–we went there. It hasn’t changed!!!

Another shot of L’Estagnol. I think I have this same exact shot taken last week! OMG. I love this so much!

Who IS that man looking at?? Why it’s Bonaparte. And his sister Isabelle is to the left of him. This was a picture from an editorial in Marie Claire magazine. Bonaparte said it was for a famous designer but he couldn’t remember who the designer was. He said it was either Dior, Carven, or Givenchy! We need to return to dressing like this!

Keep calm and study! Bonaparte was such a serious student. Suntanning whilst studying. I certainly never studied while baking in the sun! This was 1957.

Another shot of the beautiful Evie. Bonaparte’s mother and I have the same sandals. She loved her Rondini Tropeziennes just as much as I do!

This HAS to be one of my favorite pics of all time. Check out Bonaparte’s mother Evie and his stepdad Jean in the background! Even in a barn surrounded by farm life, there is still time for romance!

OK. Wanna know why THIS photo is so special? Well, it’s because this was our first visit to France without visiting Daniele (R.I.P) And look!!! We still got to see her because this photo was included with the pile of pics. It’s Daniele and her husband, Yves Robert on their wedding day!

Hope you enjoyed! I’m going back to uploading pics! Glad to be back at the computer after a hiatus of phone, TV, computers and wee-fee (That’s how the French pronounce Wi-Fi. I know these things! I’m special!)

Stay tuned!!! XOXOXOXOXO!!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged France, Memories, Travel | 40 Comments

Leaving For France..But I’ll Be Back!

Posted on June 16, 2016 by Catherine

Hi Everyone!

I just wanted to tell you that due to my lack of prowess and ability on my iPhone, I won’t be able to post while away. I’ll try though. We’ll see what happens…

But–I’m using this time to write and chill. And will be back refreshed and with new adventures..

So…please…

Don’t you forget about me for the next coupla weeks! XOXOXOXOXO

Posted in Uncategorized | 39 Comments

Oh Bonaparte! I Didn’t Get “SPAYED”–I Got “Sprayed”!!!

Posted on June 15, 2016 by Catherine

Sometimes I wonder if Bonaparte pays attention to a word I say.

I had a few high-maintenance items to take care of for our trip.

The nails were a disgusting mess. So I needed a mani-pedi. But it wasn’t just any manicure and pedicure. Since we would be away for just shy of three weeks, I decided to get a gel mani-pedi. The gel polishes last longer and really—they don’t chip off.

In addition, my fingernails were in such awful shape I decided to have a set of acrylics put back on. (Don’t judge. My nails suck). Under normal faux nail situations, I like a longer nail. However, with going away, I decided to go for a shorter, sportier look.

See how pretty my old lady hands and feet are with my new gel mani-pedi? You just cannot go wrong with a bright red. It’s the new OPI gel color of “Big Apple Red”! (No. Not named for the computer store.)

I am very fussy, though, about the shape of my nails and had them rounded out.

I also saw Adam, my hair saint, for a color and blow out. Oh. And while I was at the salon, I also had to make a future appointment for Oona. She’ll be here in August and explained that it was of dire importance that Adam cut her hair.

As usual, he made my hair look spectacular. If it looks this good clean, can you imagine how great it’ll look as it gets dirty? I may not wash my hair the entire time we are away!

Lastly in my cloud of high maintenance was the spray tan. Yes. I decided to go, not for the gold, but for the delightfully delicious bronze. The fact is, I actually told Bonaparte that I was going to get sprayed but, he either forgot, he didn’t pay attention, or he tuned me out when I spoke of this procedure.

I’ll get to the actual procedure later. But when Bonaparte saw me after the spray, it kind of went like zis:

I arrived home before Bonaparte. My spray had dried and I was really loving the color of my body! I was so busy admiring myself in the mirror when Bonaparte came upstairs…

I couldn’t help myself. Between the fake tan and the big, fluffy blow out that Adam gave me, I was feeling like the ~~prettiest~~ best looking, average old lady on the planet

Bonaparte: (shocked to see that my legs and arms were not fish-belly white with a tint of veiny blue). “Oh mah Got.” “Wha deed ou dooooo?”

Me: (Very happy because for the first time in my life, I was almost as dark as Bonaparte). ” I got sprayed”. “It’s a spray tan.” “I told you I was getting this done”. “I wanted to be as tan as your Mediterranean peeps!”

Bonaparte: “Wha do ou min, SPAYED?” “Oo SPAYED ou?”

Me: (questioning the word “spayed”) “I got SPRAYED.” “Not SPAYED!!” “Dogs get spayed!” “Are you calling me a DOG?” “Do you ‘sink’ I look UGLY???”

Hey! Even Chippy did a double-take when Bonaparte mentioned that I got “spayed”. I think Chippy may have gotten a bit….excited!

Bonaparte: “Non! Non! Casseeeee” “Em not cullin’ ou a douge!” “Ou look so boo-ee-fuwl wiz zuh spay ten” “Ou much monay did zis spay cos’ me?”

Me: “It was priceless” “Besides—it meks—I mean ‘makes’ me look thinner”

Bonaparte: (a bit suspicious) “Cassee.” “Ou did zis?” “Was eet a men?” “Deed ee see ou nekkeed?”

And so I explained to Bonaparte that no, it was not a man who “spayed” me. It was an adorable young woman named Alexa and I kept making her laugh with my moronic remarks!

Alexa of Luminosity . The place where you can get an airbrush tan AND get your teeth whitened in the same day! She’s a great spray tanner!

Here’s how my “spay” went. I went into a dark booth with mirrors. On the floor was a huge fan. On the walls were hooks for ones purse and clothing. There was also shelving on the wall for personal effects such as jewelry, watches—whatever.

To the right, under the sign is where the tanning magic took place.

I stripped down to everything but my bra. Yes. I took my panties off because I never had a tanned ass before and I figured what the hell.

And I wanted to explain to Alexa that I was keeping my bra on only because what if I took my bra off and then a little bit of the spray tan product seeped into one of my nipples and then I got an infection in my titties?

I didn’t want to scare Alexa with that explanation. Nor did I want her to screw up the application process of airbrushing me.

I never gave a second thought to any tanning product seeping up into my colon from the other end.

My new hairdo was protected with a super strength shower cap.

Before the color. Look how uneven and pasty my skin is. I look like a friggin’ circus clown!

I stepped onto the little towel that worked as a buffer between my precious feet and the floor. Alexa asked me if the fan was too much for me.

She laughed as I told her that my life is one long hot flash so if she wanted, she could turn the fan up a bit.

I followed her commands to put arms up; put arms down; place arms in a square position. Turn legs out. Turn legs in.

But it was the command to stick my butt out that almost made her drop the tanning applicator.

I told her I felt like Kim Kardashian when she posed with her tanned ass to the world but I looked more like Caitlin Jenner!

Actually, it’s a sad day when you realize that Caitlyn Jenner is a better looking woman than you are! But I’m glad my ass isn’t Kim sized!

When all was done, I was thrilled with the result. Kudos to Alexa for giving me the correct “color” tan. She explained to me that with my naturally fair coloring, the darkest tan would not look great. Instead, she sprayed me with a light to medium mixture.

Ten minutes after the ‘spay’! Look toward the bottom right. You can see my bra strap!

Look how ‘natural’ my fake tan line is!

I purchased some tan extender and was on my way. But—I will be back to tan my hide and to make Alexa laugh!

I had a struggle with my new selfie stick today. It was misbehaving! But 24 hours later, the tan is looking mighty good. And no matter how naughty my selfie stick is, it does a great job of making me look twenty pounds lighter! Who needs photoshop????

On the other hand, did I tell you that Bonaparte purchased a new and bigger suitcase for me? Yeah. He couldn’t process the fact that I shoved a ton of clothing into my Longchamp weekender.

We went to Marshalls and I picked out a peachy/pink number by Samsonite. I fell in love with the girly pink mostly because I know it will become filthy and raggy looking in no time. The filthier the suitcase, the less chance of anyone trying to take my stuff!

I guarantee you this suitcase will be spotted with filth by the time we arrive in France! No wonder it was in the clearance area!

Now you know why I get to sit at the “genius” table at the Apple store!

We’ll use my “big” suitcase for our beach towels (because they are heavy) and for my other “stuff” like books, journals, shoes that I forgot about packing and toiletries that would never make it through TSA.

Oh. I also decided to clean my makeup brushes before leaving. Being the lazy slob that I am, I decided to wash the brushes in Dawn dish soap. Winner!!! The grime and old makeup came off so easy. I didn’t even have to scrub!

Check out the chewed ends on some of the brushes. Chippy must’ve thought they were ice cream sticks!

One last thing. Bragging time! My nephew Matt was drafted by the Kansas City Royals. It’s a glorious moment for my baseball family. And it is also a bittersweet one because my dad isn’t here for Matt’s signing. This would have been one of my dad’s happiest life events. But hopefully he is looking down and smiling!

Hey batta batta! Oops. He pitches!!

And now I’m all caught up. Tonight we’ll have a relaxing and light dinner and I will no longer check my luggage because I just don’t want to! XOXOXOXO!!!

In honor of Matt, I want to listen to some John Fogerty! Centerfield!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged #Humor, Baseball, Beauty, Spray Tans, Travel | 40 Comments

Get The Cell Outta Here! The Emotional Shattering of Setting Up a New iPhone!

Posted on June 14, 2016 by Catherine

About a month ago I dropped my iPhone. As I was getting out of my car, it fell from my lap and onto the driveway. The screen cracked.

Now—it didn’t seem that bad of a crack and there was no way I was going to visit one of those “We-Can-Fix-Your-Cracked-Screens” Kiosks at the mall. They charge well over one hundred dollars. I have better things to spend money that I don’t have on.

But over the course of a couple weeks, the crack worsened.

My crack never got this bad but let’s just say it grew to be pretty bad.

I went to my local ATT store at the mall to find out if I was eligible for a new phone. I wasn’t.

However, I remembered I have phone insurance. God forbid the ATT people actually remind me of that as they checked my account to tell me I was not eligible for a new phone.

And when I reminded the ATT people that I wanted to see if I could replace the phone, I was told I could, but I had to do so either online or via my cell phone.

I went home, went online, and couldn’t figure out the instructions for replacing the damaged phone because I needed a “passcode”. I never remembered even creating a passcode because it had never been mentioned to me by the good folks at ATT when I had my past phones.

After many naughty words spewed from my mouth, I called the number for assistance.

This is pretty much how I looked while spewing some well-deserved naughty words…

Thankfully, the assistance I received over the phone was stellar. I was told to create a passcode, which I did over the phone with the help of Jeanne from ATT. A new phone would be sent to me within 2 business days and I was to follow the instructions that came with the phone.

Fine.

Phone received on Friday.

When I opened the box, I immediately followed the instructions to charge the new phone. I could do that!

…and believe me, charging the phone was just about the ONLY thing I was capable of doing!

And having to work in Retail Hell on Friday and Saturday, I figured I would wait until Sunday to focus on setting up my new phone. After all, I’m not right in the head and I am also a very maniacal, crazy, over-reactive, emotional woman so it was best to not have any pressing matters come my way during phone set up day.

One cup of morning coffee down and in a productive mood, I started to read the remaining instructions. They seemed simple enough.

My instructions seemed pretty much simple and foolproof…

I proceeded to take my newly charged phone over to my computer. I successfully entered my Wi-Fi connection. Success was also measured in setting up the cute little generic icons. Uh oh. How come my really important icons such as Twitter, Instagram, Face Book, and other ones displaying my narcissistic nature weren’t transferred over?

Where’s the important ~~shit~~ stuff (Bonaparte made me correct my gutter language) like Instagram, Twitter and Facebook? How will be able to display my obnoxious and narcissistic personality to the world??

Back to the instructions.

Easy set up my ass!

I needed to get my Apple ID and passwords. WTF? I haven’t used them in over a year!!! *Sigh*

Pause as I sent emails to reset my user ID’s and passwords.

Back to the set up.

I’m constantly reminded as per instructions to return my old and damaged phone back to ATT within 10 days. Three days have passed and it appears that it just may take another week to figure all this out. And I’m leaving for France. This is not good. If I don’t take care of this soon, I’ll have a hefty penalty charge.

Yeah, I get the message that you want the phone returned!

I decided to call the ATT tech assistance phone number that was provided on the instructions. After prompting to the correct department, I didn’t get a human voice, but received a recording: “You have reached technical assistance.” “Our hours are Monday through Friday, 8AM through 5PM”.

I’m sure that most people who are having issues with technicalities on their phones do not have the time to call on Monday through Friday between those hours because they are at work! So they call on the weekends when nobody is available. Does this make sense?

Nobody is on the other end of the line to hear the nastiness that’s coming out of my mouth.

True dat. I can scream and curse at the top of my lungs but nobody but a recording is on the other line! Nobody can hear me because nobody is working!

After hanging up, I take another pause and realize that I’m smart enough to figure this out. Back to the instructions.

Ok. Unlike Stuart Smalley, one outta three ain’t bad. I’m pretty sure I’m smart enough!

I insert my phones to the USB chords and insert the chords into the computer. Now I’m going to try to switch data over from one phone to another.

There is an issue on my computer. I cannot make the switch because the computer doesn’t recognize my devices. The computer only recognizes Bonaparte’s account. WTF? All of a sudden my computer is Gallic?

All of a sudden the computer of “mime” is French?????

Now I’m going full-tilt boogie crazy!

I would say that I am in that outnumbered grouping!

I go back to the ATT site to see if there is a different solution. ATT wants my MEI number and my SIM card number.

I didn’t realize there were so many numbers on my phone. I find the MEI and it is NOT the MEI number that ATT has in their records. I am not able to change the MEI number on my computer and cannot submit anything. For some reason my Gallic computer is not recognizing my information and is blocking me from moving forward.

It is now almost 11:00 AM and I started this process over two hours ago.

Yeah! I have all the time in the world to set up my new phone. All the time in the world…….

I rip out both phones from the computer.

I pack throw both phones into the box in which the new phone was mailed to me.

I wonder how many people get to this point? I have NO idea how those chords became THAT tangled. I must have really thrown them curve-ball style into the box!

I go into the bathroom and wipe deodorant on my pits. I don’t even bother to wash my face. My hair is in the same braid that I wore to work the previous day. My mascara is smeared because, yes. I’m a slob!

I drive to the local ATT store. This time, I don’t go to the ATT store at the mall. I go to the one up the street from where I live.

Luckily I arrived just as the store opened. Nate and John, the two young men who work there, greet me.

Also luckily, Nate has helped me before with other issues so he knows what is in store. He didn’t run away!

Somehow Nate just doesn’t seem thrilled to see ME! He did a fantastic job in such a short time! Perhaps he and John were glad to get rid of me!

It took Nate all of twenty minutes to set up my iPhone.

I’m happy as a dirty little bottom crawler of a clam as I make my way home to finally bathe and play with my new phone.

Filthy hair, smeared mascara, dirty old slob but happy that my phone has been set up!

Until…..

Day Two:

I now have a couple of “Apple” issues and have to drive to the Apple store to take care of this. For some ungodly reason, I can’t email pics from my phone to my computer.

Take a good look. The Apple store is never this empty!

This is very important because we are going away and I need a backup to save my photos.

Wait! I have my digital camera!!! I can pack my camera! I go over to the desk where I keep my camera and it isn’t there.

Where did I put it?

I unpack all the stuff I so carefully placed into my carryon. The camera isn’t there. I go over to the little closet where I keep my sweaters and wigs (don’t judge) and random stuff. No camera.

And to think that I thought I was FINALLY organized. Another fine mess I’ve gotten myself into!

I go into our bedroom and search handbags, drawers and any crevice I can. No camera.

Now I panic because I’m 61 years old and my memory is going. My hypochondrium is building up.

The phone rings. It is Bonaparte.

He went to have my car inspected and he asks me, quite annoyed too, where the auto insurance card is.

My response is “WTF are you talking about?” “I didn’t get any insurance card!!!!!” “If I did, I would have put it in the car!!!!!!!”

Now Bonaparte is pissed. “Zuh cahrd sud be eeen zuh cahr.” “I em sur I gev eet to ou!” “Don’ worreeee”.

He hangs up and I’m crying.

I get dressed to go to the Apple store and am only thinking about my lack of memory. St. Anthony isn’t even coming through to help me find my memory.

St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come around. My memory is lost and stuff cannot be found. Thanks big guy!

I’m crying and catch a glimpse of my hair in the mirror. It is filthy—my hair, not the mirror. And I notice that the dirt and grime in my hair has given me perfect beach waves! I snap a pic with the phone and post it to Instagram. True narcissism knows no boundaries! At least I can post to Instagram!

Despite how upset I was, when I saw these nice beachy waves I suddenly realized what a beauty asset filthy hair is. How could I not pause for Instagram?

Bonaparte arrives home and he’s no longer annoyed.

I tell him we need to take me to a doctor immediately because I am suffering from early dementia. I tell him my camera is lost along with the insurance card.

Bonaparte apologizes and tells me he is sorry but he packed my camera and the battery recharger into his suitcase.

Why did Bonaparte not tell me he packed my camera……

He also tells me that he knows where the insurance card is.

….and thanks for filing the auto insurance card away and making me think it was MY fault!

I get into my car.

I arrive at the Apple store just minutes before it opens for the day. The Apple man places me on a list and tells me it’ll be twenty minutes before they can see me but they will text me. Two minutes later I receive a text to come on in!

I am lead to the “Genius” table. (No kidding—that’s what it’s called). I’m guessing calling it the “Idiot” table” because that’s where all the idiots who have no clue are sitting’ is too politically incorrect. Call it what it is. I’m an idiot when it comes to setting up my cell phone. OK?

To all those parents who’s kids are in AP classes. I made it to the genius table! OK?? I hold bragging rights!

I explain that I am unable to email photos from my phone to my email address. Therefore I cannot send photos to my computer. I am told it is an issue with my Verizon server.

Try as she may, Eve, the Apple expert assists me in getting my Verizon email password figured out. Instead, I get locked out of my email account and the only way I can get back in is having Verizon call our home phone with a temporary password. Only problem is that I’m not home.

Eve, in the garden of Apple delights, tells me to go to the Verizon store down the road. Then she turns to Adam of Apple, whispers something to him and they both look at me as though I’m the poisonous serpent telling them to take a bite of the forbidden piece of fruit!

The Apple people may think I’m a slithery serpent, but all I want is to use my iPhone! Is that too much to ask?

I leave Apple and drive to the Verizon store. And I’m greeted by a pimply adolescent who tells me, after I explain my problem that the issue is with my Verizon server, he can’t help me. I’m at Verizon Wireless. I need Verizon Fios.

I tell him that “I am not right in the head and with every second that passes, I become less right in the head”. He becomes scared and calls a Verizon expert over.

This is the face that scared Verizon!

I tell the Verizon expert that Verizon sent a voicemail with a temporary password to my landline phone but I’m not home. She explains that the voicemail is on my home phone and the message will be there for 7 days.

I get home and stress eat melted mozzarella on a slice of rye bread. It is so mushy and delicious that I forget my phone issues for the ten seconds that it takes my gluttonous self to finish.

The message is, in fact, on our landline. I write down the temporary email address and reset my password on my email.

I’m thrilled because now I’ll be able to send pics from my phone to my home email.

I do a test and send a pic.

It didn’t work.

Later I’ll go back to see Nate at the ATT store. Right now—I just can’t.

Like the screen on my original iPhone, I’m also shattered!

Besides. I need to get a mani-pedi.

The nail place is in the same shopping center as ATT. So after my nails are done, I drop by to see my old friends Nate and John.

Are Nate and John hiding from me????

Nate is busy (which I’m sure he was thrilled about) and John tries, in vain to help me.

He explains to me that Verizon changed their server updates and many people were having issues, but Apple can fix the issues.

Unfortunately, I was the 1% that Apple could not help. More unfortunately, I’m in the wrong one percent.

It is now after 5 PM. I am NOT dealing with rush hour traffic in order to go to Apple. Again.

Instead, I go home and call Verizon FIOS.

After explaining the issues of the past 24 hours, I was instructed to go to my “settings” and was further instructed in what procedures I had to take in order to update the incoming and outgoing servers.

My phone is finally in working order.

Yet, somehow I’m waxing nostalgic for the old rotary phone we had growing up in Long Island. The days when we didn’t have passwords or user ID’s or passcodes or MEI and SIM card numbers.

Life was more simple back then when the entire family shared one phone. Oh the fights between my sisters and me over time spent on this little machine. Oh the locks that my dad put on it to stop my sisters and me from pulling each other’s hair out! I miss those days!

The only number we needed to remember was our phone number: Mohawk 5-2889.

How is it that I can still remember my childhood phone number and not the seven thousand passcodes/passwords/ID’s that I am now known by?

Like the screen on my original phone I’m…

“Shattered”!

Posted in Ageing, Uncategorized | Tagged #Humor, Iphone issues | 46 Comments

Atypical 60

Do You Know The Way To St. Tropez?

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Hidden France–L’Estagnol. The Greatest Little Beach On Earth.

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On The Abbaye Road…

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Summer Has Arrived in France!

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Back in the d’Azur Groove! (Sing it Loud)!

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The Return to France. Ready. Jet. Go No!

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Je suis arrivée à la maison. Yes. I’m Back Home From France!

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Leaving For France..But I’ll Be Back!

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Oh Bonaparte! I Didn’t Get “SPAYED”–I Got “Sprayed”!!!

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Get The Cell Outta Here! The Emotional Shattering of Setting Up a New iPhone!

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