South of France, Part I

by Nicole Bravo

After our Italian adventures, we were ready to spend a few days taking it slow in the South of France.  We rented a room on the outskirts of Aix-en-Provence (thank you Airbnb!), a sprawling home owned by an older French couple.  The home belonged to artists and as such had a lot of character, and was located in the countryside surrounded by beautiful trees.  Compelled by the beauty of the landscape, we asked our host if we could venture beyond her large property and walk around.  She pointed west of the home toward the lovely Mont Sainte-Victoire and told us we could find trails that way; however, the house behind them probably wouldn't appreciate our wandering around.  She explained, "He gets tired of tourists always trying to find his house since Cézanne used to live there."  It took everything I had to not spit out what I was eating at the moment.  Cézanne... is their neighbor.  Well, Cézanne's house, and if we were transported back in time to the late 1800s, we would be able to venture over and have a chat with neighbor Cézanne. Are you kidding me?  It was another of the scores of moments during our trip where I had to pinch myself to verify that what I was experiencing was in fact real.  

We took things slow in the South, sharing meals on the patio, jumping on a large trampoline like kids, and taking afternoon swims during thunderstorms.  We delighted in the surrounding panoramas which were wonderfully picturesque, and later found that Cézanne must have truly loved them as well.  This evidenced by the fact that a museum we visited filled with many of his paintings included the same views we had of the landscape and Mont Sainte-Victoire.

Venezia

by Nicole Bravo

Whether getting lost in the labyrinth of winding streets and dead-ends during an awe-inspiring thunderstorm, crossing twenty small bridges in order to find the local fish market, waltzing by moonlight in Piazza San Marco, listening to the songs of handsome gondoliers, or enjoying a bottle of Prosecco with feet dangling over the Grand Canal, Venice is the place where the world you once new is swallowed up by the astounding, reality-defying "Floating City."

Mangia!

by Nicole Bravo

To say that we ate our way through Italy is anything but an exaggeration.  Every morning began with at least one pastry, usually filled with or covered in chocolate, and a cappuccino.  We found it very interesting that in the dozens of cafes we went to, no one took their coffee to go.  Most took the time to sit down and enjoy their drink, while some business folks would stand at the bar, throw back a shot or two --of espresso-- and then head out.  We did manage to get a drink to go just once, but it consisted of only half the drink haphazardly poured into a tiny, lid-less, Styrofoam cup; we never made that mistake again.

For our afternoon meal, we oscillated between one or two courses, but definitely NEVER skipped lunch, as we often do back home.  Every night we enjoyed a delectable two to three-course meal and when it came to gelato, any ounce of American calorie-counting restraint was completely cast off.  We delighted in heaping servings of gelato a consistent three times a day, in order to keep our stomachs full and our bodies energized as we covered a daily average of six miles on foot.  Although really, we would have done the same if we'd walked but one mile a day because I had an especially large budget for gelato, due to my shameless obsession with all things ice cream.  And somehow, wherever we went, we managed to make new friends who were always more than happy to have their image documented and incorporated into the spectacular story unfolding before us.