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The Heart of Biarritz

10/31/2014

I've been dreaming of Biarritz.
Literally.
Forty winks of nighttime reverie brings me back
to one of my favorite spots on the planet.
It's forever imprinted on my heart.

Assorted travels throughout France have taken me to many diverse locales.
Pretty faces and picture-perfect postcard views are fine for some travelers.
But I prefer hamlets with interesting and exotic character -- exactly
what you get in my favorite Basque refuge.

Biarritz can justifiably be called a seaside sanctuary.
But -- yawn -- most guidebooks casually classify it as a resort town --
as if that's reason enough to show up -- and that's not even half the story.
I say give credit where credit is due.

If you prefer unorthodox communities, avoiding standard holiday hot-spots,
you'll discover Biarritz and the Cote Basque are decidedly different.

Don't even try to classify Biarritz.
It's an absorbing mix of history, architecture, food, weather, sun, and people.
Messy in a good way --- Like beach hair on the pages of Vogue.
Waves pounding, wind blowing, it's slightly unsettling.
A rare language, not easily pronounced or understood, teases our ear.
Amusing sculpture wakes up our imagination.
Platters of new tastes and local color make you crave multiple feedings a day.
Oh, and did I mention this is Basque country?

Biarritz is unique.
Stimulating.
It will remind you of all the reasons you travel.

Biarritz is indeed pretty as a postcard.
But its beauty goes deeper than any typical resort town.
Miles of beaches offer a contrast to belle epoque villas that line the streets.
Jagged rocks and cliffs contrast with whispery tamarisk, oleander and umbrella pines.
Old fashioned elegance tangles with surfer culture.
It all comes together somehow, a perfect blend of the curious and the exotic.

Biarritz's near neighbors, St. Jean de Luz and Bayonne, are close-by -- just an
inexpensive bus ride away -- an easy day-trip to add to your itinerary.
Espelette, Sare and even Saint-Jean-Pied-de Port (inland at the foot of the Pyrenees)
are must-see stops, too, if you can tear yourself away from the charms of Biarritz.

Outdoor activities will monopolize most of your time here.
I'm a huge lover of museums -- and there are a good number of them,
(Musée de la Mer Aquarium, Musée d'Art Asiatica, Planete Musée du Chocolat to name a few), but it's darned impossible to tear yourself away from the call of the seaside promenade
and the lure of a little café in favor of indoor intellectual pursuits.

Start your day with a gentle walk on the famous promenade along the Grande Plage,
past the art deco casino and onward to Place Ste-Eugenie and fisherman's port
where you'll purr as soon as you spy the Rocher de la Vierge (Rock of the Virgin).
In order to get to the Rock and its famous Madonna sitting squarely on top
(protecting the local fishermen), you'll have to cross a sturdy iron bridge
designed by someone you may already know -- Gustave Eiffel.

By then, you'll be ready for lunch and that's a whole new adventure.
Will it be the local Bayonne ham, grilled sardines, chiperones (tiny squid),
or scrambled eggs covered with brilliant red piperade?
Local Irouléguy wine, for sure.

As soon as lunch is over, you'll start thinking about dinner -- basque chicken,
fresh catch of the day or cod-stuffed-peppers with spicy espelette pepper sauce?
Goodness knows, you'll never run out of ideas.
Don't forget the cheese course.
Brebis cheese with red cherry jam is delightful and for dessert,
make sure you bite into a gateau basque (two for me, please).

A word about the food.
You will be spoiled for riches here.
Tapas are called pintxas and I guarantee you'll always remember where you had your first one. The Basque kitchen delivers one of the world's great cuisines.

Basque architecture is unlike any other in France - brilliant reds and greens like their flag

Espelette peppers hang to dry -- I'm still using the dried spice long after purchase!

By now, you're probably wondering why more people don't
recognize the star power of this amazing small city.
This is the kind of place that must come straight from God's hand or a wizard's wand.

Many famous people have enjoyed the pleasures of sun, sky and sand in Biarritz.
It all started back in 1854 when Empress Eugenie cajoled Napoleon III*
to join her at this unknown paradise.
They had a grand villa built on the premiere location along the beach, transforming
the simple fishing village (whaling was the key industry) into a fashionable hot-spot.

*Louis-Napoleon, nephew of THE Napoleon Bonaparte, was emperor of the
Second French Empire and the smart guy who hired Baron Haussmann to transform Paris.

Today you'll find the stunning Hotel du Palais standing in the shadow of the
old Villa Eugenie, refashioned as a posh 5-star hotel.
It's a lovely place to sip a cocktail as you pretend to be one of the rich and famous.
Famous celebs flocked here, from kings & queens to movie royalty.
Queen Victoria, Sarah Bernhardt, Coco Chanel, Frank Sinatra, Princess Diana
and a whole gang of notables enjoyed the charms of this Basque beach queen.

Speaking of beaches, there are many to discover, all distinctly diverse.
Surfboarders swarm the area now, so instead of jewel-encrusted crowns,
you're treated to wetsuits, bikinis and board shorts to celebrate
the new royalty -- the kings and queens of European surfing.

Biarritz is the acknowledged surfing capitol of Europe.
Every year a rocking gala honors the California-bred surf competition.
The Biarritz Surf Festival takes place annually in July and offers
all brands of water activity in a party-like atmosphere.
Surf City, here we come!

The Atlantic Ocean is a surfer's paradise

Biarritz is delightful and no doubt, you'll have a good time whatever plans you make.
There's even a Russian Orthodox Church to visit, built back in the 19th century for the
Russian aristocrats who came to gamble away their gold and their gloom.

The covered market, Les Halles, is worth a look and a taste.
You'll be stunned by the miles of seafood, freshly caught,
deservedly displayed in their own splashy wing.
Aisles of fresh produce so colorful, you may have to wear your shades.
Cheese and ham create a mouth-watering spectacle in the huge exhibit of gastronomic glory.

Golf is a big deal here but if that's not your sport, choose from a long list of athletic and
health inducing activities -- Pelota, rugby, Thalassotherapy, or beach-watching, it's all here.

Don't miss the Pointe-St-Martin with it's lighthouse that watches over the town and its sea.
By then, you'll be ready for a comforting cup of hot chocolate,
a specialty of the chocolate-smitten region.

A cup of hot chocolate is where my own story begins.
My husband and I were visiting in September of 2002.

On the 1st anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy, we sat sadly together, licking our wounded
hearts and feeling guilty about being in a gorgeous seaside sanctuary while our fellow compatriots at home were likely re-living the tragedy minute by minute.
As my tears fell and our dark conversation faltered, a local woman shyly
stopped at our table to gently ask if we were Americans.
She was respectful and contemplative, telling us that she would say a
prayer for our country and our citizens today.
As we worked up a thank you and a smile for her, we realized how lucky we were --
that Biarritz is not just a beautiful place with blue skies and a beach.
It's a community full of good-hearted and nurturing people.

Before long, we noticed others slowly passing our table, hands folded,
heads lowered, seeming to pay their respects, too.
Their sad faces and gentle nods acknowledged
their compassion and empathy over America's tragedy and
helped us realize that it was a blow shared by the whole world.

It didn't just help us get through the flashbacks of that terrible day.
It made our whole vacation.
Thank you, kind people of Biarritz, for taking the time to offer a little love
to two Americans who sorely needed it.

Travel.
Sometimes it's not about what you see but about what you feel.
And I feel just fine in Biarritz.

Do you remember Cadillac's El Dorado Biarritz? - The fanciest head-turning car of its kind!

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Dijon Mustard - Crown Jewel of Condiments

10/27/2014

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Distinctive jars and exotic flavorings line the shelves throughout France

The Chinese did it. The Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans -- all the ancients did it.
But no one does it quite like the French.

That is, taking a simple seed that grows abundantly in the countryside -- and transforming
it into the condiment hall of fame --- a product that elevates food to a whole new level.

I'm speaking of Dijon Mustard -- that must-have jar of creamy seasoning that likely sits
on your refrigerator shelf -- just waiting to pep up your culinary cosmos.

It's not just for le hot dog.
What would a vinaigrette be without a dab of Dijon M?
Or the divine Lapin a la Moutarde (rabbit braised in mustard)?
Be it steak marinade or quiche, Dijon mustard adds flair to everything it touches.

Are you getting Dijon Vu -- the feeling that you've had this mustard before?
OK, I'll admit it, I saw that on a t-shirt once and was hoping
for a chance to use it somewhere.....

And who can forget the classic Grey-Poupon commercials of the 70's where the
stiff-necked British name-droppers traded barbs over their favorite French accessory?

The story of Dijon Mustard began in 1856 when Jean Naigeon substituted verjuice (the green juice squeezed from unripe grapes) for vinegar.

Dijon is a city in Burgundy, an area rich in wine production.
The savvy grape growers knew better than to throw away any harvest
deemed too unripe for use in their priceless vintage.
The cunning producers saved the immature fruit, turning "leftovers" into payday.
Less harsh than old recipe using tried and true vinegar,
the verjuice became the "new & improved" version and the rest is history.
Dijon's new mustard became the standard.

The recipe is relatively simple -- crushed mustard seed mixed with vinegar
or lightly fermented wine plus a bit of salt and seasonings
determined by the chef's creativity.

Dijon had been on the spice trail for many years and once that
enterprise dried up, they needed to come up with a new game plan.

The strategy worked.
Gold in a jar.

But mustard had a history in France that preceded its stellar beginnings in Dijon.

For that, we need to head south -- all the way south to Marseille, where distiller Antoine Maille sold vinegar from a pump, placed literally on the street.
It was here that Monsieur Maille was credited with saving much of his city
from a terrible epidemic in 1723, a true killing machine.
The antiseptic qualities of his vinegar seemed to stop the spread
of the plague in its tracks, guaranteeing his ticket to fame & fortune.

As his popularity soared, he expanded into mustard - also selling it from the pump. Maille opened a second shop on rue St. André des Arts in Paris
where his fame grew by leaps and bounds.
Louis XV, Catherine of Russia and monarchs all over Europe became
enamored of the pleasantly pungent sauce.

It wasn't until 1821 that Antoine's son (Antoine-Claude) founded the Dijon connection and opened the first Maille boutique in that city.
Everyone loved the little earthenware jars they designed for customers to
take home, and still today, you'll find collectors who prize
these culinary relics, especially the hand-painted beauties.

You'll find a jar of Dijon mustard on nearly every table in France.
Although I was raised on "White Gloves & Party Manners", I'll admit to a bit
of unrefined table etiquette on my continental culinary adventures.
I can't stop myself from dipping into the jar for "un petit gout"
soon after being seated.
Tears (of joy and heat) rush to my eyes as soon as I get
my first taste of the zesty, addictive spread.
I love that sweet wallop.
Kapow!
Voodoo in a vat --- it's the taste of France.

After all, what would a steaming platter full of sausages and choucroute
be without the zap of our favorite creamy condiment?

Long before the legend of Monsieur Maille, Dijon secured its place in mustard history, beginning with a grand gala held by the Duke of Burgundy back in 1336.
Legend has it that the duke's friends and family consumed 70 gallons of the
cheeky condiment, the lusty diners delighting in the sassy intensity of its fire.

Mustard continued to gain a new following, not just those
interested in its culinary virtue.

Proving itself to be relatively inexpensive and reliable, mustard has been
cheered for centuries for its antiseptic and anti-inflammatory properties.
The mustard plant is related to broccoli and kale -- Get the connection?
These health benefits continue to multiply with declarations
of therapeutic benefits in the treatment of everything
from migraines to appetite control and digestion.
Asthma, arthritis, high blood pressure -- the list is endless, and medicine-men since the age of Hippocrates (father of medicine) have employed its anti-bacterial,
anti-fungal, anti-inflammatory and antiseptic safeguards.

Got a health problem?
Eat some Dijon mustard!

Parisians used to buy their daily dose of mustard
much like they purchased their daily baguette.
For a few centimes, they would go to their local shopkeeper
to buy mustard in tiny quantities, guaranteeing it's freshness and fire.

Once Maurice Grey (of Grey-Poupon) invented the machine that automated
mustard grinding, its popularity continued to grow.

Me, I'm just in it for the taste.
Amora, Maille, Grey-Poupon, Edmund Fallot, Musette (formerly Temeraire)
are a few names you can look for -- in countless variations.
They say variety is the spice of life and from time to time, I'll try
one of the nuanced add-ins (such as tarragon or lavender) -- but for my money,
the regular full-strength basic formula is exactly what my taste buds are looking for --- and believe me, I insist on a daily dose.

Prescription Dijon Mustard = healthy, wealthy & wise.
Any other mustard -- let's face it -- just doesn't cut the mustard.
The Concorde of Condiments.

Violets, pastis, piment d'Espelette -- the ingredients added to mustard continue to evolve with the times

Here's mud in your eye --- this poor guy must have gotten an especially pungent dose of his Dijon M.

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Rodin! Rodin!

10/22/2014

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Who can forget the moment when Isabelle Adjani
(playing the title role of Rodin's exploited student-lover in "Camille Claudel")
dramatically implores, "Rodin! R-r-r-rodin!"
-- rolling her r's and creating movie history.

Years later, Woody Allen set the scene for "Midnight in Paris",
casting former first lady Carla Bruni as a tour guide in Rodin's Garden.
She smoothly corrected know-it-all Paul's misguided take on Rodin's love life.

The cinema seemingly loves a dramatic telling of artistic agony and ecstasy.
And why not?
These creative types are more interesting than the average Joe & Jane.

Sculptor Auguste Rodin has always been misunderstood -- mostly
admired but occasionally condemned, in both life and art.

For me, it was love at first sight.
From the moment I stole my first look, his masterstroke,
The Burghers of Calais, swept me off my feet.

I'm always amazed when people tell me they've been to Paris
but, no, they just didn't have time to visit this classic museum.
That's like eating an ice cream cone without the ice cream.

Please, don't leave the best parts of Paris behind.

Here are just a few reasons to propel Musée Rodin to
the top of your must-see agenda of Paris attractions:

You'll recognize some of the art.
      Thank goodness, Mona Lisa isn't the only piece of art in Paris
that will ring a bell in your memory bank.
Everyone knows The Thinker dude.
As travelers, we like to believe we're at least somewhat cultured
so it's nice to flash on art that's unmistakably familiar,
even if it is something you first saw watching Dobie Gillis back in the 60's.

   Buy 1 --- Get 2 Free
At the Musée Rodin, (1) you'll get a lesson in art appreciation --- mixed media
that shows off sculpture, paintings and photographs;
As a bonus, (2) you'll be treated to an amazing example of French architecture
in a gorgeous 18th century manor with the sexy name -- Hôtel Biron;
And the frosting on the cake: (3) You'll get a chance to catch a fresh breath
as you wander the sprawling garden in the middle of the city -- roses included.
Art, architecture, peace and fresh air. What a deal!

Location, Location, Location
     You're dead center in the middle of one of Paris' most
unabashedly beautiful neighborhoods.
Bring extra (camera) batteries.
Let's see -- you're minutes away from Les Invalides, the Pont Alexandre III,
and some of the best shopping and eating around ---
including three Christian Constant restaurants.

What's not to like?

Many of Rodin's best masterpieces reside in the garden.
My personal favorite lives here.
The moment I saw them, I was smitten:
The Burghers of Calais

The piece portrays six well-to-do political leaders as they're marched off
to meet their maker, condemned to death by King Edward III of England in 1347.
The king sought retribution, snatching the lives of the city's top brass
in exchange for saving their vanquished, crippled city
during the One Hundred Years War.

It's a raw work of art, evoking an immediate feeling that conjures up war,
suffering and pain as we contemplate these men, grimly succumbing to fate.

Rodin marched to the beat of his own personal drummer.
When the city of Calais commissioned him to create a bronze of their hero,
Eustache de Saint-Reve (head honcho of the condemned city councilmen),
he bucked the request and paid homage to all six humbled heroes.
The city was not amused, especially since it took many long years to
complete the work, over-budget and overdue.
They wanted a glorified, god-like monument that was typical of its day,
a monument to a great man, perched, in traditional manner, on a pedestal .

It turns out they didn't get what they paid for -- thank goodness.
When you examine the anguished faces and body language of the six men,
barefoot and ragged, marked for sure death, it will stop you in your tracks.
The ravages of war are seen in their gaunt, starved faces.
Yet Rodin somehow captured a different emotion on each individual's face --
rage, fear, surprise, despair, denial, shock, bitterness --
it's all there, just like you would expect in real life.

He positioned his sculpture so the public would stand at eye level
with the men, able to look into the eyes of horror and madness.

It makes me recall the words of a beloved
Steve Winwood song,
"Higher Love"

"Worlds are turning and we're just hanging on
Facing our fear and standing out there alone
A yearning, and it's real to me
There must be someone who's feeling for me
Things look so bad everywhere
In this world, what is fair."

The legend of the Burghers of Calais resolved itself thanks to the
intervention of the king's sympathetic wife, Queen Philippa.
She begged her spiteful husband to liberate the men,
saving their lives and their dignity.
They returned to Calais as heroes, having bravely
bargained their lives to save the city.

What a party that must have been.
My only wish is that Rodin would have captured
those very different emotions in a followup sculpture so
we'd have a second feast in the museum garden --
elation, joy and yippie ki-yay alongside the pathos of the original.

And for that fantasized work, I'd tag another Steve Winwood song,
"Back in the High Life Again."

"And I'll drink and dance with one hand free
Let the world back into me,
And oh I'll be a sight to see
Back in the High Life again"

Rodin's Gates of Hell is also justifiably famous.
It captures a chapter straight out of Dante's Inferno, composed of
some 180 figurines -- truly jaw-dropping.

Once you're inside the mansion, it won't take you long to find
The Kiss,
much favored, too, as you'll see by the admirers surrounding it.

Seductive, ravishing, provocative -- this marbled portrayal of passion
is a lover's nightmare of the best of times and the worst of times.
It's yet another reference to Dante's Divine Comedy, capturing the erotic moment
that set the table for death and eternal condemnation in hell.
Rodin's lovers surely inspired the fire out of him, illicit or not.

Camille Claudel's works are front and center, too, as well as the
personal collection of Rodin -- a bonus -- paintings from Van Gogh, Renoir
and Monet adorn the walls, enhancing your exhilarating experience.

Hot & Heavy -- then damned to hell

Auguste Rodin was a late learner.
He didn't achieve great success until well into his midlife,
having spent nearly twenty years as an ornamental sculptor & decorative bricklayer.

On a trip to Italy, he uncovered his genius after seeing
Michelangelo's sculptures for the first time.

When he returned to France, he developed his skills, honing both his craft
as well as his finance and marketing brain, collaborating
with others to build a solid business.
He was one heck of a salesman, convincing his partners
to change the way sculpture was cast and merchandised.

The Gates of Hell are a startling reminder of Dante's Inferno

Take some time to discover the ornamental garden behind the mansion.
You'll discover hundreds of flowers, ornamental bushes and delights
along with even more art -- including The Marble Gallery -- as you
wind down and enjoy your surroundings.

Follow the path across the wide lawn as it leads to a large
ornamental pool, continuing on to an ivy covered trellis and even more green.

The perfect place to take a time-out in Paris.

The Hotel Biron, built in 1732, perfectly captures the time and spirit of the day

It's a treat to see an artist's work-in-progress

Rodin often concentrated on capturing the essence of the human hand and foot, usually exaggerating its presence

Rodin's portrayal of Balzac also upset his critics

On your next trip to Paris, please make Musée Rodin one of your first stops.
You'll be so glad.

And just like me, as you immerse yourself in the pleasures of Paris,
you, too, will discover what's best about life, love and art.

Reward yourself.
You'll be back in the High Life again.

Walking the plank in Rodin's day

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Prince Charming in Strasbourg

10/17/2014

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It was just about a year ago that my sister and I took a 4-day jaunt
to enchanting Strasbourg, a city full of surprises.

Anticipating a charming city awash in gingerbread houses and
picturesque canal walkways, we got that -- and a whole lot more.

Strasbourg is like a 4-scoop ice cream cone, each flavor melting into the other.
You get a taste of France, Germany, Medieval, and Modern in a fairly compact,
easy-to-navigate town chock-full of savory pleasures.

Strasbourg is the capitol of Alsace, the territory that's been fought over for centuries,
bartered back and forth from France to Germany and back.
It's no wonder.

The region is jam-packed with riches, surrounded by vineyards
heaping with precious fruit that produce some of the best white wines in France.
The Vosges mountains are nearby as well as an abundance of storybook villages
on the wine road and across the river butting up to Germany's Black Forest.

The city is unexpectedly cosmopolitan.
You won't find Hansel & Gretel here --- but perhaps a Prince Charming or two.
Folks here went out of their way to be helpful.
Whether scooping up our luggage or offering insight into a particular city
pleasure, the people of Strasbourg swept us off our feet.
We felt like princesses in a fairytale province.

The Cathedral is the big wow.

It's in the middle of a tightly clustered square, surrounded by shops
and restaurants --- so tall, it's tough to capture a good photo without working at it.
Cathédrale de Notre Dame is Gothic, initiated in the 11th century and completed around 1439.
Its pink sandstone glows at night but you'll want to see the stained glass during the day. Intricate carvings, a super-tall spire and monstrous gargoyles monopolize
the lacy facade -- but that's just the promising beginning.

Never one to miss lunch, I broke my golden rule and stayed
to see the "show" that starts half past midday inside the glorious church.
Here, the astronomical clock comes to life, showing off
its mechanical genius to all who are willing to stand and wait.
Just when you think you can't stand the crowds one minute longer, the chimes begin to ring,
a life-size cock crows, and the pageant begins --- an 18-inch tall figure of Jesus Christ
stands to greet his 12 apostles as they march across the mantelpiece and your imagination.
I didn't even mind being late for lunch that day.

On a prior visit to the cathedral, my husband and I were treated to a
different type of theater -- on the square just outside.
We were drawn in by the voice of an angel, notes that ranged from the top
of the music scale to a deeper tenor.
Imagine our surprise when we got a look at him - expecting to see a woman because
until that moment, he was only singing the high notes -
The guy, all buff and tough in boots and chains, looked like someone you might not
like to run into in a deserted alley -- but as soon as he opened his mouth --- with
a voice so sweet, he melted our hearts in less than five seconds.
Since then, I have discovered much of France has been treated to his amazing
talent on the French version of the popular tv series "The Voice".
Another Prince Charming in Strasbourg.

The fun doesn't stop at the cathedral and its square
(named The Grande Île, a UNESCO World Heritage Site).

Like so many cities in France, the city is carved up into distinct neighborhoods,
so it's both easy and pleasing to walk from one clear-cut quarter
to another, equally winning but unmistakably diverse.
It's not like changing horses on a merry-go-round; it's more like getting on
a completely different carousel.
You'll want to take a spin where-ever you go.

There's even a fairytale village within the city, the deservedly
famous neighborhood known as Petite France.
Located just a few short blocks away from the cathedral, you're suddenly drawn into
a fairytale world where geraniums spill over nearly every turn you make.
Half-timbered homes drip with whimsical character.
Canals and footbridges force you to stop every 30 seconds to capture a
ridiculously adorable photograph for your memory book.
It's almost unreal.
Restaurants, hotels and knickknack shops are in overabundance
but it's so pretty that even the most chintzy novelties don't ruin the mood.

Strasbourg is a cultural city, offering theater, opera, multiple museums,
art galleries and even their own philharmonic orchestra.
The Palais Rohan with it's double-feature museums -- the Musée des Beaux-Arts
and Musée des Arts Decoratifs, are very popular along with the more low-key Musée Alsacien. You'll discover museums dedicated to archeology, contemporary art and print
(honoring, of course, the famous achievement of local legend Johan Gutenberg),
if you can tear yourself away from the wondrous temptations of the outdoors.

As a university city, you'll sense a youthful exuberance everywhere you walk.
Between the cyclists and the canals, you might think you're in Amsterdam for a second or two. But then you'll turn around and find something so utterly French - or German,
depending on the neighborhood, and you'll come back to your senses.

You can even walk over a bridge and into Germany -- two for the price of one!
We took a mini-excursion over the border to Baden-Baden,
a deservedly famous German spa town.
It was a quick hop on the train and back off again --- into the welcoming embrace of
the local baths, a worthwhile novelty on a trip designed to capture the essence of the region.

My sister and I especially enjoyed a leisurely walk to the Parc de l'Orangerie.
We passed drop dead gorgeous manor-houses belonging to embassies and the
well-to-do, vowing to buy one or two when we win the lotto.
The park is stunning, drawn up by Versailles' famous designer André Le Nôtre.
Peaceful, green and happy, it's a perfect break from city life.
We got a charge out of our slow stroll, watching the kids at play and gardeners at work
while an elderly couple pushed a dog in a fancy baby carriage.
Just a day in the life....
There's a small zoo with an amazing variety of animal life as well
as a lake and other entertainments.
Don't miss this one.

There are many gratifying sights to see, too many in fact, to list here.
Strasbourg is incredibly famous for its Christmas Market (Marché de Noel),
a virtual wonderland of holiday festivities.
They're particularly proud of their Christmas traditions, claiming it was right here
where locals developed the custom of Christmas tree decorating.

The Barrage Vauban is well worth a look as is the whole modern side of the city
where the European Parliament and the Council of Europe reside.
Talk about contrasting images!
The mirrored buildings strike a progressive chord in the city,
reminding us that this Strasbourg is no museum relic.
It definitely an urban oasis that lives, evolves and continues to ripen.

Strike up the band! This is one cathedral where you'll laugh out loud.

As you walk this fresh and exuberant city, it's hard to believe some of its history.
After the Nazi invasion of Poland in 1939, the entire municipality was evacuated.
For ten months, the city was empty, minus a few unlucky soldiers left to stand guard.

After France fell in June of 1940, all of Alsace was surrendered to Germany.
Only residents of Alsatian origin were permitted to return.
The Jews were immediately deported to camps and the
exalted historical Synagogue burned to the ground.

During the war, the Alsatian resistance, called La Main Noire (the black hand),
was active but not too fruitful in their efforts, suffering both during and after the struggle.
Much of the old town was heavily damaged, mostly by Allied bombing,
some of it erroneously targeted.
Fortunately, the German occupiers had removed the precious stained glass in the cathedral,
presumably because Hitler had admired it, hoping to turn it into one of his own monuments.
Lucky for us but too hard to imagine in today's peaceful burg.

If you travel further back in time, Strasbourg's history is even more staggering.
As terrified as we all are over the carnage brought on by today's Ebola virus,
can you imagine a plague so terrible, to this day, no one is sure of its cause or
its resolution -- but the one sure thing we know is that
THE KILLER was DANCING MANIA.

This is no joke; people literally danced themselves to death.
Was is caused by stress & poverty -- or a curse -- or by poison, perhaps in the local rye?

Physical or psychological, this Dancing Mania - sometimes called St.Vitus'
Dance Phenomenon, literally killed thousands of people throughout Europe.
In 1518, over 400 people in Strasbourg alone had heart attacks and died.
They would dance for days, screaming, laughing and crying.
Their hallucinations were likely called visions back then, but either way, it was a killer.
Chaos, dancing and death --- truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

One can't possibly talk about Strasbourg without referencing their amazing food and wine.
A bold cuisine, it's revered world-wide, actually laying claim to dozens
of Michelin-starred restaurants in the region.

In its capitol city, you're in for a real treat.
A few standouts include choucroute (in many forms),
baeckoffe (many meats stewed for many hours), coq au Reisling,
eel stew, oie aux choux rouges (goose & red cabbage)
along with foie gras, kugelhopf, and tarte flambée.
Don't be shy, try as many tastes as you can.

The Route des Vins may not be as famous as that of neighboring Burgundy,
but it has stature and tradition -- as well as enduring fans.

There's more to celebrate in October than beer --- of course, famous brewer Kronenbourg
is not much more than a mile outside of town -- and beer is deservedly popular here.

October is wine month, too, as the region celebrates the grape harvest
with festivals and much merry-making.
Like so much of France, the cuisine and the wine pair up perfectly.
Gewurztraminer, Reisling, Sylvaner, Tokay (not the same as Hungarian Tokay)
and muscat are just a few familiar names.
The area is also valued for its eau de vie such as Kirsch and Framboise.

Eat Drink & Be Merry.
Strasbourg is a heavenly destination for lovers of good food and drink.
And it's perfectly acceptable to offer a toast in either French or German.
Prince Charming will probably reciprocate in kind.

Santé! Prost!

Choucroute is a dish that's means business -- sausages, knuckles of pork, steaming sauerkraut = delicious!

The unique sounds of Luc Arbogast are mesmerizing

You'll find a whole city of contemporary architecture, a bold but welcome contrast from the historical center.

Look UP! Storks are all around!

It appears she found her prince.

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France Through the Eyes of a Child

10/14/2014

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Memories of my first summer in France come back to me in bits and pieces.
Reminders of that trip surface in little snippets of pleasure.

I was only eleven when my parents sent me to Paris to meet
my aunt, uncle and cousin for the first time.
I was "sentenced" to their care for the entire summer break -- parents not included.
Not knowing the language, the customs or even my relatives, I was terrified.

I knew I'd miss my parents and big brother -- we were a tight knit family -- but like
most kids, I worried about what I was missing at home in our neighborhood,
especially the 4th of July picnic and fireworks.

As soon as the plane landed and I saw the smiling faces
that arrived to greet me, I felt a little better.
My mother had versed me well about what to expect -- or so I thought --
but no preparation could have readied me for the assault
on my senses and preconceived notions.

Today's fresh catch

I lost my heart to France that summer.
It has consumed me ever since.
It didn't make me less of an American.
My stripes are still red, white and blue -- with a little
bleu, blanc, et rouge thrown in for added dimension.

The funny part about memory is that it's the little things that stick with you.
A kid doesn't go to Paris in search of lavishness or grandeur.
I just wanted to survive that alien summer, minus friends & family,
and learn about my mother's birthplace and people.

My aunt and uncle lived in a small town near Paris where they spent their
weekends and any free time their daughter wasn't in school.
They kept an apartment in Paris for school days so I was treated
to the best of both worlds that special summer.
Both experiences were exceptional and remain colorfully vivid to this day.

The country house was a 3-story chateau that was older than the U.S.A.!
It had been in my uncle's family for many generations.
I had my own balcony and a huge feather bed.
The library had a hand-painted mural of a woman baring her breasts,
incredibly shocking to a young American girl in those days,
especially when my aunt proudly boasted she had posed for the painting.

The Paris apartment won me over the minute I walked onto its ornate black iron elevator.
The balcony view was pure Paris and handy, too, as my cousin and I could
drop water balloons onto unsuspecting neighbors below.

I distinctly remember one of my first trips to the country marché.
My aunt bought a live chicken for dinner and made me carry it home.
Upside down, squawking, my little hands wrapped around its scrawny legs,
that wretchedly doomed chicken was less miserable than me.
I cried all the way home.

A week later, I carried a small pail of fresh fish home from the market.
Giddy with such new adventure, I felt as much underwater as the swarming fish.
My aunt didn't understand my reaction; Didn't everyone buy their fish live?

I fell in love with French food --- the simpler, the better --
especially my aunt's addictive plum confiture.
Bread and chocolate were another favorite (do not try this at home; it doesn't work)
as were those little Carambars and Choco-BN cookies that were like kitty-litter to a kid.

My uncle famously concocted a brilliant green soup from vegetables and herbs
just picked from his huge garden (he employed a full-time gardener) -- so fresh
and full of flavor, I didn't care what was in there.
It was that delicious.

Chocolat chaud every morning was an exotic treat, served in the classic Breton bowl,
scented with slightly funky unpasturized, unhomogenized milk and real chocolate -- delectable.

And the cheese, dear God, the cheese.
Camembert oozing across the plate.
Who knew a kid could learn to love stinky cheese?
I still recall the care my aunt took in selecting the best fromage.
The cheese-monger, caressing the top of each ripe disk, asked if she planned to serve it
this afternoon, this evening or tomorrow -- to insure the perfect selection.

I somehow survived without my Campbell's Soup and grilled (Velveeta) cheese sandwiches.

In France, a child is taught at an early age to shake hands.
I had never been taught that simple etiquette and it showed.
My aunt and uncle had lessons to teach.

Even more disgraceful, my well-bred uncle couldn't get over that American
children were allowed to use their left hand to eat and to write.
Oh the horror!

Back in those days, the refined upper class used their right hand
whether it came naturally or not.
It was "correct".
No wonder they thought Americans were gauche (left).
My parents had written him a letter about my "disability", insisting it was ok.
It bugged my poor uncle to no end.

Sunday lunches, in particular, were long, often including
other guests at the long table.
When the weather was right, we'd dine outside.
Gorgeous surroundings and lively conversations - often debates -
kept me wide-eyed during the dining marathons.

We would often eat a whole fish, grilled on the ancient outdoor barbecue.
My uncle delighted in putting the head (eyeball staring) on my plate,
claiming I was his honored guest while smiling at my apprehension.
But after a little taste, I learned he was right; it was one of the best parts.
I vowed to never eat another fish stick again.

Each Sunday blowout felt like a festive occasion.
After eating for three hours straight, we'd finally go back into the house
to watch Steve McQueen's "Wanted: Dead or Alive" on the little black and white tv.
An American with status!
Cowboy bounty hunters were cool.

We vacationed in the Pyrenees, my first look ever at a mountain range.

People looked so different from what I was used to, especially in Paris.
Women seemed effortlessly elegant, decorated in real fashion.
They resembled movie stars, more Audrey Hepburn than June Cleaver.
My own clothes were out of place.
French children didn't run around wearing shorts and t-shirts.
My aunt bought me several skirts and blouses so I would fit in.

Snail hunting is fun -- and delicious.

A few other memories I hold dear to this day:

Mussel gathering on a trip to the Mediterranean Sea.

Snail hunting near the Pyrenees Mountains -- I found the most!

Gawking at prostitutes on our way to dinner at a little "off-the-beaten path" bistro.

Admiring Place des Vosges before it was cleaned and spiffed up.

Dancing at a Bastille Day celebration -- with a stinky boy.

Laughing at the sight of a pissoir.

Rubber-necking at the tiny cars -- some small enough to park on the sidewalk.

Immersed in the sounds of Sacha Distel and Mireille Mathieu.

Succumbing to my first taste of French ice cream.

Recognizing how special it was to see a black Madonna in a teeny church
in the mountains (to this day, I don't know where).

Battling with my aunt who tried to give me a bath (I won) -- she
continued to bathe her own 12-year-old daughter.

Getting my hair done at a salon where they singed split ends with a lighted candle.

Marveling at policemen on horseback in parc Monceau.

Perceiving the value adults placed on intellect and education.

Figuring out how to eat langoustines -- and why it was worth the effort.

Learning respect for a home garden and all good things from it.

Loving the sounds of both the telephone ringing and the sirens blaring in Paris.

When you're small, you rely on others -- and come out ok.

I learned much during that summer so long ago ---
even forgiving my brother for getting to go to Disneyland without me
while I was "suffering" so far away.
Oh, and he got a new bike, too..... grrrr.....

But sometimes, I need reminders of that nurturing and influential summer.
The key to unlocking that simple life.

Because I didn't know the language (and so much more), I had to
CONCENTRATE ON ONE THING AT A TIME.

There was no multi-tasking then, who had ever heard of that ridiculous term?
BE PRESENT.

It was a bit chaotic there -- but easily as fun as July 4th and maybe even Halloween --
STOP BEING SO BUSY LOOKING FOR PERFECTION.

I was in the care of near-strangers and it worked out beautifully.
LET SOMEONE ELSE DO THE HEAVY LIFTING ONCE IN AWHILE.

Thank goodness there was no fancy technology in those days.
Although I'm a fan of it now (too much so), I had to rely on my senses
to get by in that strange and wonderful place - no email, just snail mail.
DON'T LET TECHNOLOGY RUN YOUR LIFE.

And finally, be a kid -- let your mind wander -- and enjoy today.

"The best things in life aren't things."
Art Buchwald

Through the Eyes of a Child
Recorded by: Frida Baccara; Music by: Emile Stern; Lyrics by: Unknown

The wide eyes of a child look upon a world reborn
See the glory of a rose that never bears a thorn
The wide eyes of a child can invent a laughing moon
And the orange sun leaps high just as a floating toy balloon
He clearly sees the flower and the bird
Whose thoughts he knows without needing any word
And any child can hear ringing laughter from a stream
Hear the music of the heart, to us a half-forgotten dream
In sleep he hears the star's distant song
Oh, may its wonder last for his whole life long
If we had vision too, as we stumble on our ways
We could sometimes see our days as through the eyes of a child

A little trip in the "way-back" machine is a good thing from time to time.

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A Walk Through France

10/10/2014

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So you've already been to:
The Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, Montmartre, Notre Dame, Musée d'Orsay, Luxembourg Gardens, Canal St. Martin, Palais Garnier, Père Lachaise, the whole Top 20 kit and caboodle.......
Congratulations.

You're back in Paris and looking for a new experience.
What's left for a veteran Paris traveler like you?

How about a walk through France?

And you won't even need your hiking boots or compass.
As a matter of fact, in order to launch your crusade, it's as easy as a
Metro ride to a time-worn landmark smack dab in the middle of Tourist Central.

It's the same place you stood, awed by your first look at the Eiffel Tower.
In fact, this architectural gem is most well known
for its perfect perspective on Monsieur Eiffel's masterpiece.

Palais de Chaillot, located just steps away from the Trocadéro Metro, is
most appreciated for its stunning vistas of France's most famous landmark.

Centerpiece of Trocadéro Plaza, Palais de Chaillot
is not just window-dressing for the mythical Tower.
Sure, everyone admires its graceful lines, gigantic fountain and beautiful gardens.
The tourist circus here is always lively and crowded, admittedly a bit
annoying as you weave your way past the peddlers,
around the skate boarders and photo-snapping tourists.

But most people just see P.C.'s outer skeleton.
They never consider what's inside this rich piece of real estate.

So today, let's banish the conventional and take a peek inside this marvelous palace,
where you'll find a time capsule filled to the brim with the riches of France.

Palais de Chaillot, occupying perhaps the most prized real estate in Paris,
was created in 1937 for the Paris International Exhibition.
Two wings, separated by a wide esplanade, are shown in countless photos of Paris --
yet few travelers wander into the actual structure, the artistic achievement of
architects Louis-Hippolyte Boileau, Jacques Carlu and Léon Azéma.

P.C. played a huge role in the early days of both the United Nations and NATO.
Headquartered here, in 1948 the U.N. adopted its signature affirmation,
The Universal Declaration of Human Rights,
recognizing the rights of the individual as first influenced by the Code Napoleon.
NATO, too, was headquartered in these same halls during its inaugural days.

Soon after both organizations de-camped the premises,
the city of Paris realized a good opportunity when they saw it.
They established several good museums and a theater in the Palace,
including the magical corner where we'll start our walking tour through France.

Inside the Palais de Chaillot, you'll find a multitude of riches,
including the amazing City of Architecture & Heritage
(Cité de l'Architecture et du Patrimoine).

The museum first opened in 2007 with the aid of a strong infrastructure,
the previously established stockpile from the Museum of French Monuments.

The collection of French Monuments was already famously respected for its role in saving
the renowned smiling angel from Reims cathedral, blown to pieces in WWI.
The noteworthy angel is again in her rightful place, cast from one of the
perfect reproductions that was the hallmark of that museum.

Thanks to the brilliant thinking of Viollet le Duc, who, in the late 1800's,
thought it made sense to showcase France's greatest
monuments (cathedrals & chateaux in particular) in one place.
His brainchild, established to inspire the artistic community of Paris,
ended up saving priceless art that may have been lost forever, ravaged by war .

The new museum offers three glorious galleries of these plaster molds, casts dating
from the 12th to the 18th centuries as well as additional collections
made up of murals, stained glass windows and more.

Over 350 plaster-cut reproductions of medieval, Gothic, and Renaissance architecture
will bowl you over -- including life-size reproductions of gargoyles, crypts, and columns.

Doll-house sized models offer 360-degree views of details you might miss
even if you have the opportunity to visit the real monument in person.
A stunning reproduction of the doorway of Chartres Cathedral is
reason enough to enter the museum.
And you didn't even have to buy a train ticket to Chartres.

If you've longed to see the majestic glories of Vézelay, Bourges, Autun,
Conques and too many more to count -- but don't have the time or money
to do so, you'll at least get a taste of their magnificence right here.
One thousand years of architecture in one place.
Count me in!

Where else can you size up the cathedrals of Notre Dame, Strasbourg,
Chartres and Sainte-Chapelle --- and see them all before lunch?

With over 86,000 square feet of space, the City of Architecture and Heritage proudly
lays claim as the largest museum of architecture in the world.

Not only do you have the riches of the past, you have the glories of
a more contemporary world of architecture upstairs.
The Cité Radieuse, Le Corbusier's famous housing project from Marseilles,
is on display for budding architects -- and for architecture wonks like me.

New challenges in an ever-changing urban landscape is the recurring theme.
You'll marvel over the complicated blueprints and models of the contemporary galleries.
Diverse exhibits, including mock-ups and videos, will challenge
most non-professionals but a quick look is both interesting and rewarding.

The Ecole de Chaillot, a school offering post-graduate degrees in architecture,
urban design and historical restoration, is housed here, offering non-professional
admirers of engineering and construction the chance to see budding masters at work.
Architecture buffs will flip over the bookstore, a great spot to beef up your collection.

Top it all off with (GASP!) the most stunning view ever of the Eiffel Tower --
from an upstairs window of all things --
a photo op perspective you won't get on the plaza outside!
Your walk through France is complete -- and you don't even have blisters.

Well done!

"A pile of rock ceases to be a rock pile when somebody
contemplates it with the idea of a cathedral in mind."
Antoine Saint-Exupery

Ask yourself this:

Why is France the #1 tourist destination in the world?

Surely, architecture needs to be near the top of that list.

So doesn't it seem impossible to ignore this museum one day longer?

Enjoy the view!

Café Carlu is just outside the museum -- amazing chance to gawk at the Eiffel Tower without battling the crowds!

Remarkable Perspective on the Eiffel Tower as Shot Through the Museum Window

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Paris Takes the Cake

10/6/2014

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Cake, lovingly displayed, tempting to all.
Window shopping is a sweet surprise in Paris.
Pâtisseries offer a hefty dose of happy,
a honeyed narcotic that you'll never want to kick.

A bite of cake is a reward - a standing ovation - for celebrating a birthday
or an anniversary, getting married, or just surviving a tough day.
When it comes to French cakes, you get a full-frontal view of a nation's food culture.

Cakes (gâteaux) represent France's inspired cuisine -- the care, the quality,
the beauty and the passion of French food architects.
Yes, architect -- one who plans, designs and makes.
A French pastry chef (pâtissier) is a virtual builder of mouthwatering temptations,
creator of triumphant finales that put the legend in the legendary French dining experience.

Walk into a Parisian pâtisserie and you'll be overwhelmed by an excess of choice.
Much too much of a good thing.
That's when you'll realize you need your math skills after all.

If you have seven days in Paris, how many different tastes can you experience?
Hint: You'll need all your fingers and toes -- at the very least.

Here's the short list of tempting creations:

Dacquoise - layers of almond & hazelnut meringue topped with whipped or buttercream

Moelleux - similar to a fondant or molten lava cake, soft & flourless

Croquembouche - little choux pastry rounds piled high, held together by threads of caramel

Financiers - very small cakes flavored with buerre noisette (browned butter)
and ground almonds, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside

Baba au rhum - small yeast cake doused in rum & filled with pastry cream

Bûche de Noël - Christmas specialty frosted & rolled again & again, a
fancy sponge cake that screams holiday, decorated to look like a yule log

Mille-feuille - sometimes called a Napoleon, it translates to cake of a thousand sheets - layer after layer of puff pastry and pastry cream, the poster-child of pâtissiers everywhere

Gâteau Basque - chewy and handheld like a cookie, the Basque specialty is filled
with either cherry preserves or pastry cream -- a personal favorite of mine,
I once ate three in one day and had a stomach-ache for two. Buyer beware!

Paris Brest - made to commemorate the Paris-Brest bicycle race in 1910,
the wheel-shaped choux pastry is filled with luscious praline cream

Petits Fours - petite iced cakes meant for small bites

Saint Honoré - choux (cream puffs) dipped in caramel on top of a pastry base

Opèra - sponge cake layered with coffee & chocolate buttercream and glazed
in gleaming chocolate - quite decadent, it's the picture of sin

Forêt-Noire - Black Forest Cherry Cake

Gâteau Breton - a specialty of Brittany, made with the region's famous
salted butter, a bit like shortbread with French flair

Madeleines - small spongecake baked in a shell-like mold. This is the famous
treat that triggered Marcel Proust's memory in "Remembrance of Things Past"

Marjolaine - similar to the dacquoise but long & rectangular with almond and hazelnut

If la cuisine francaise is a portrait of Lady France,
the irresistible cake is surely her eyes, window to her soul.
So much of the sensation is in the look, the presentation.
Expressive, colorful and dramatic, this portrait is a masterpiece.

You'll find several really good pastry shops in every neighborhood.
I'm a fan of Gérard Mulot, Ladurée, Dalloyau and Jacques Genin.
Knowing Parisians' love of sweet endings, I realize there are dozens of
new shops to try and shouldn't exclusively stick to the tried and true.

So next time, I'll try something new, perhaps from this list:
La Pâtisserie des Rêves, Sadaharu Aoki, Des Gâteaux et du Pain,
Carl Marletti, Gontrain Cherrier, Blé Sucré -- and that's just for beginners.

I'm sure you have a favorite, too.
A special place where you almost made it past the window.....
You knew you were looking at "art" and couldn't help yourself....

Now that your taste buds are engaged and ready, I'll admit
my first impression of a French cake wasn't so rhapsodic.
Twelve-year-olds from America expect a birthday cake covered in
oodles of icing and rosettes, sweet and intoxicating.

My French aunt didn't go to the pastry shop that day, hoping to show her love
and generosity with something made from scratch in her own kitchen.
Parisians don't often make their own desserts since it's so easy to find
something deliciously ready-made just down the street.

I was pretty excited, knowing that it would indeed be exquisite -- after all,
Tata's cooking was fantastic and I'd have bragging rights at home with tales
of my very own French birthday cake. This was kid-cloud-nine.

Imagine my surprise when she presented a rather plain and homely looking
one-layer yellow cake -- naked (no icing or decoration of any kind).
It even looked a little burned around the edges.
Remembering my manners, I said merci and smiled as I took my first taste ----
I grew up a little that day and learned a valuable lesson.

It was the best cake I had ever tasted in my life.
Even without icing, chocolate or sprinkles, it was delightful.
Quality ingredients coupled with technique, tradition and know-how
play a bigger role than an overload of sugar and embellishment.

So you're probably wondering, what kind of cake was it?
It was the old fashioned, very traditional, easy-to-make French Yogurt Cake.
You don't even need a mixer to make it, just quality ingredients
like good French yogurt and farm fresh eggs.
Trust me, your family will think you're a pastry genius once they bite into this.
The French yogurt cake is a pâtisserie's ugly little sister --- the one that
surprises you with her ingenuity and charm.
Winner.

Whether you fancy your baked goods from a luxe Parisian landmark patisserie -
or prefer perfecting your own special French recipe at home, you'll enjoy the end result.

Celebrate the good life and give in to the French Cake Cure.
The Cure involves a different taste every day.
What could be more simple -- or delicious.

Respect for quality ingredients coupled with matchless technique,
the French have perfected this divine taste of heaven.
With each bite, they engage our endless passion for fine food.
Just part of The Paris Effect.

Self indulgence is a specialty of Paris, a joyride around every corner.
So go ahead, give in to your lust and take the Cure.
Pleasure and contentment sometimes come in small packages.

Cake, the uncommon cure for just about anything.

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Break the Mold in Paris

10/2/2014

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Stand still and take a moment for yourself.
Think about your next trip to Paris.

After all, you deserve it.
All that hard work, those late nights and the jazz you put up with
from your boss/neighbor/significant other/kids/you-fill-in-the-blank.

Why Paris?

In Paris, you no longer need to be everyone's favorite problem solver.

- When in Paris, your "problem" is deciding which baguette to start
your delicious day, the tradition, the ancienne or the compagne?

- Which world class museum should you go to first, The Rodin or the Carnavalet?

- Red, white or rosé? Bordeaux, Alsace, Provence, Loire.... such a "problem"!

In Paris, there's no need to to check your phone every five minutes,
worried that you might overlook some inane office missive or
Facebook comment from someone you don't even know.

- When in Paris, your phone is your camera - always at hand to record
a beautiful door or the Christmas display at Printemps.

- Email and Facebook are too vanilla when you've got inspiration
by the truckload all day, every day in the City of Light.

In Paris, there's no need to "entertain" yourself with another morning show
interview, makeover or didn't they do that yesterday workout segment -- again.

- When in Paris, the world is right beside you, diverse and beautiful and surprising.

- Entertainment comes in too many packages to count.

In Paris, there's no need to puzzle over what to do this weekend and how to
fit it all in between grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, bookclub & tailgating.

- When in Paris, you'll never run out of new ideas.
Half the fun is falling into accidental adventures and meeting new people.

- There are no "must do's" and no one gives two cents to find out
what you do for a living or how much money you make.

In Paris, there's no need to fill the gas tank - again.

- When in Paris, you'll love the world class public transportation as well
as the best, most efficient "wheels" ever -- your own two feet.

- The entertainment value alone of the Metro is priceless.

In Paris there's no need to mindlessly watch half-witted network
shows that dull your senses and put you to sleep at 9pm.

- When in Paris, you can watch re-runs of "Friends" in French -
Ross, Rachel, Chandler, Phoebe & Joey will teach you new language skills.

- You'll see lots of breasts (totally acceptable here) in the media -
but really, there's no time for that either, turn off the tv and go outside.

In Paris, there's no need for the bureaucratic tangle of self-sufficiency
you've grown accustomed to, that mantra of autonomy we've learned to chant.

- When in Paris, you'll need help from strangers.
Delightful dependence on the kindness of those around you -- for help
with the language, with directions, with a nod of encouragement.

- Friendship comes to those who ask. It will open up your world.

"If you're not having fun, you're doing something wrong."
(Groucho Marx)

Too many people regard travel as an an accomplishment,
a gilded medal, a slide show to share with those they hope to impress.

Take a deep breath and get over yourself.

It's exhausting being you.
Or at least the "you" you're supposed to be.

In Paris, you can afford to bend the rules.
Break the mold; be more Dali and less Renoir.

Take a chance; ban monotony.
Say NO to humdrum and YES to throwing caution to the wind.

Remember this:
"You don't drown by falling in the water; you drown by staying there."
(Edwin Lewis Cole)

Go to Paris and open the door.
You won't return home the same person.....if you break the mold.

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The Heart of Biarritz

Dijon Mustard - Crown Jewel of Condiments

Rodin! Rodin!

Prince Charming in Strasbourg

France Through the Eyes of a Child

A Walk Through France

Paris Takes the Cake

Break the Mold in Paris

AUTHOR
MICHELLE MOGGIO
Thanks for visiting my blog!

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AUTHORMICHELLE MOGGIOThanks for visiting my blog!

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AUTHOR
MICHELLE MOGGIO
Thanks for visiting my blog!