An afternoon snack in the South of France
I am blessed with parents who try to be supportive no matter what crackpot idea I happen to have up my sleeve at the time. So, when it came time for my annual return to the motherland, it was my father who suggested that we spend a week in France so that I could get some “material” for the blog. Of course, I immediately dusted off my best French, “Le singe est sur la branch,” and packed sweaters and boots for an English summer. Boy, did I need them. Of course, leather-soled cowboy boots are less helpful in a damp country than you might immediately think. If it happens to be raining (and it’s England- it rains all the time) chances are high that you’ll break your neck.
But I digress…
Over the next couple of weeks you can expect to find blog posts detailing my time in both France and England, lots of pictures, and many recipes. I feel comfortable saying (since she’s several thousand miles away) that plane travel with my mother is the most stressful thing you can do that doesn’t cause bleeding. French waiters are really quite delightful (I’ll reserve judgment on totally delightful until I return to Paris). I found that I can live, quite happily, on bread and tomatoes. And there is nothing like a French supermarket. As for England, it is the most comforting place in the world. Cold, damp, green, familiar, and quite simply beautiful.
Bleeding can be arranged.
Mom, you’re several thousand miles away. My blood is safe for at least several months. And if I’m doing to be injured then let me add this- people ask me why I walk so quickly. I tell them it’s from a lifetime of trying to keep up with my mother.
Air travel isn’t that bad. Car journeys are much more fraught with anxiety. I love you, mommy
Suck up!
OH! I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures. Pictures, please! And lots of ‘em. We mice could do with a little armchair traveling right about now.
+Jessie
Maybe I should just travel alone – much less troublesome. Nile cruise, African safari, so hard to choose.
Jessie- Thy wish is my command!
Mother- Just be careful sprinting through the airport in South Africa. The border guards probably shoot first and ask questions later.
Looking forward to your south of France post – I’m trying to sort through my pictures from this past weekend and post my own.
I just read your about page – cooking is my therapy too and keeps me relaxed and sane. Of course, my complaints as a California expat in London is that there is just not enough sun and its always too damn cold. I hate having to wear shoes that cover my toes and carrying an umbrella everywhere because one never knows when it might rain.
Um, not to be contrary or anything, but you haven’t met my mother;) Sounds like you learned a lot about yourself over your lovely holiday–bread and tomatoes, mmmmm–I’ll take mine as Panzanella, please!
Looking forward to France and England posts.
PS The first sentence I ever learned in French class in 8th grade: Je vais a la plage. I would rather have vais-ed to the montagnes
I feel like Momzilla.
Gastro- You and I should switch countries- I miss the cold and damp of England. I like wearing boots and coats. I can’t wait to read about your South of France post!
Jenni- I’m with you. I’d rather vais to the mountains, too.
Mom- You’re the least Momzilla mother I know. I just like sharing your idiosyncrasies when it comes to travelling. xxxx
Mais le singe est dans l’arbre, n’est-ce pas?
Le singe… est disparu… (At this point I should really hope you’ve seen Dress to Kill or I’m going to look like a bit of a berk…)
that is THE most gorgeous photograph…
of wine. and olives. and a table with a view.
Thank you! My mother sat there getting more and more annoyed while I tried to get the perfect shot- it was her wine!