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Back to the grind tomorrow. But for now my mind’s still here… #europe #france #megeve #ski #alps (at Megève)
I'm a Chilean-American, born in Japan, living in Switzerland. I drink too much coffee, am addicted to Young Adult Literature, speed Scrabble, creative cooking, and my Polaroid Land Camera. I'm learning what it means to live as an Expat and using my darling dog to make friends (cause Lord knows the French isn't coming as fast as it should). I regard my five-pound toy fox-rat terrier, named Sophie, as my child; I've been known to think she is cuter than other "children" (canine or human). [misgirlandpup@gmail.com]
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14 juillet celebration dinner. A wonderful outdoor restaurant complete with colorful lights strung from the plane tree branches above, a local band with trumpets, bass, accordion, and a lead opera singer, cigars and cognac, a petanque match, and swing dancing under the starry night sky.
Perfection.
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the weekend was for
A road trip to the south of France with dear friends. Visiting [and sleeping in] historic medieval sites and farmhouses; [hi]stories and narratives at every turn, in every corner. Days filled with bright blues, yellows, and purples.
A cold [mistral wind] snap that invited cardigans and scarves for our outdoor evening dinners accompanied with bottomless pitchers of rosé and conversations in Franglais.
Morning breaths infused with the scent of lavender and the sound of humming honey bees; the rooster our initial alarm, and the donkey our second.
Eating well. Eating what’s local. Eating what’s in-season. Salads layered with grilled aubergines, roasted red peppers, pesto, potatoes and goat cheese from the house around the corner. Lamb grilled to perfection; the fire stoked with pieces of wood and bark from the yard; sprigs from the rosemary bush thrown in for good measure [and flavor].
Field frolicking. Trying to create a permanent memory of the quickly fleeting flora that brings Provence to life this time of the year; the landscapes like a bold painter’s palette eager to wake his canvas up from a year’s slumber.
Wistful discussions about life and longings. The slow and serene pace of our surroundings working as an inspiration for dreams of settling down, simplifying, learning to live instead of exist.
Realizing that a trip to southern France is in order every year. At least once.
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It has been quite awhile since I’ve spent a Saturday without skis attached to my feet. But with temperatures reaching 60 degrees, and a cloudless sun-filled sky, we changed our agenda this Saturday. Today we decided to take advantage of Spring’s tease (because let’s face it, snow is in the forecast for next week).
We left around 10am and got to Dijon, France just in time for lunch. We ate salad with chevre chaud, people-watched, perused the quiet (who knew everyone was on holiday?) alleys, my hand in his. We sipped espressos, squinting from the welcomed brightness pouring over the multi-colored shingles. I love the French weathered roofs. It felt, for a moment, like we were exploring an abandoned Hollywood set. But every once in awhile a couple would pass walking a dog, a woman on a bicycle, baguette in tow, and I’d remember that this.is.real. That these kinds of places inspire the stories I would read and watch growing up. I love France. And I love that just across the border I can be in a new place, with a different feeling, and just drink it all in.
But I also love that I can be back home, in Switzerland, for dinner.
Happy Saturday to you!
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somewhere in France
Nathan: I'm looking for a swimsuit. French saleswoman [thick accent]: Eh...okie...here is ze swimsuit we carry [holding up a speedo]. Nathan: Do you have anything looser fitting? Like swim trunks? French saleswoman: Eh...non...eh...en France ze people wear zis type of suit. Eh...ze French are...how do you say in English...ze French are....dusty? Nathan: ... French saleswoman: Yes, dusty. Nathan controls his facial muscles just long enough to thank the woman for her time and exit the shop. Apparently there's a strict rule in France demanding that men wear speedos to keep all of their 'dust' or dirt, as she was trying to say, contained. How's that for an image? -
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Reflections. On the St Bernard pass heading towards Genoa, then France.
Road trips are so much better when sights like these are encountered.
Theme: Linear by Peter Vidani
