Driving back from Uzès to England

As you leave the vineyards and olive groves behind, speeding northwards, the countryside gradually begins to change. Golden, clay tiles roofs are replaced with slate, church spires seem thinner, reaching higher, the trees and plants become more deciduous and gradually the skies dull and are full of clouds. The cities of Montelimar, Valence, Lyons and Mâcon are all sped by and after 500 km, tired and travel weary you pull into the sleepy, historic town of Avallon in Burgandy, France.

Once on the main coaching route from Paris to Lyon, Avallon is now sadly mostly forgotten by travellers hurtling down the autoroute. Wandering it’s ancient cobbled streets, they are missing a treat!

We had spent a night in Avallon’s most impressive coaching inn, Hostellierie de la Poste, 30 years earlier returning from the south on our honeymoon. We had stayed in the quarters frequented by one of the inn’s most illustrious guests, Napoleon Bonaparte, who on March 16th 1815 had spent a night here on route north from Elba………

Somewhat worn but with the same warm welcome and sumptious dinner we were just as enchanted and for a small, relatively, simple abode surprised to learn more it’s incredible story. Since 1707 it has welcomed many important guests, including the King of Prussia, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Ernest Hemmingway and Presidents Kennedy and Eisenhower. Its fortunes over the years have risen and fallen. It was mentioned in the first edition of the Michelin Guide in 1900 and was proud to be one of the first restaurants ever to earn one Michelin star in 1948 followed by two in 1953. Certainly today the restaurants doesn’t disappoint, nor does this charming town.

Dating from 1120, Avallon’s medieval walls and turrets are still largely in place. An array of historical architecture span the centuries, a magnificent clock tower and imposing church, wide doors invitingly left open which when explored leave you speechless with wonder as you stare up at the arches spanning the ceiling and wonder how masons over 800 years ago developed the understanding to successfully construct such timeless majesty.

We were sad to have to continue our journey the following morning but having enjoyed the little town so much decided to sample a little more of the area rather than retuning immediately to the Autoroute. This was the Burgandy region of France, the home of Chablis wine and epoisse cheese, none of which we had time to sample but whose picturesque villages and sweeping lush countryside were stored as a region to return to.

By 4pm we were pulling into Calais and the Chunnel back to England.

‘Clio’ had taken care of us for over 12 000 km,   I could not believe that our sourjorn in ‘La Belle France’ was over. Creeping forward onto the Chunnel I remembered the nervous anticipation I had felt steering myself in the opposite direction 5 months ago. All that had occurred since then, all that we had experienced and seen, indelible memories in my heart. I had followed a dream, scared and frightened to start with but in following a passion had fulfilled and found a joy, an elation I had believed existed and was waiting for me amongst the cobbled streets, the history, the worn shutters and still to bloom sunflowers. A contentment which would forever be part of my soul, which I wanted to continue to be part of my life’s story, a joy I knew I would soon be returning to.

“Parlez-vous français?”

“Parlez-vous français?” – “Oui, un petit peu” – was my response when I arrived in Uzès in January. By the time I left at the end of May I was able to truthfully answer the same question a little differently: “Oui, je parle français, si vous parlez lentement” – ‘Yes, if you speak slowly!!’

The improvement, (although there is still much work required!) is in large part due to my delightful and endlessly patient French teacher, Maryse, who more than anything gave me the confidence to speak, however incorrectly and however terrible my pronunciation! Twice weekly, 3 of us struggling students gathered in her petit salon where we were gently encouraged to listen, repeat and often just share whatever came to mind. Maybe that was the key to our progress, no worrying about conjugating verbs or whether the noun required a ‘le’ or a ‘la’, we just chatted, searching our limited vocabulary for a word that would fit, stumbling often but conversing none the less and laughing as we did so. My fellow classmates, as anxious as I to improve their skills, became my new friends. Interesting people with different life journeys, from California, Sweden, Australia and Britain, bound together by our shared love of France and our joy at being able to live there, even if just for a moment.

It was with great sadness I bade then ‘au revoir’, yet I knew it was just that, an           ‘au revoir’ for I would certainly be returning to this beautiful region and to Uzès. Uzès, the “Premier Duchy of France,” in the Gard region of Languedoc Rousillon, southern France, just 45 km west of the magnificent and now much beloved medieval papal city of Avignon and 25 km north of the Roman stronghold of Nimes. Uzès, this enchanting bastide rooted in history had seduced me with its charm and authenticity. Its ancient, winding cobbled streets, its elegant squares, shaded by gently worn, golden, stone, shuttered buildings.

The glorious Ducal Castle, cathedral, and renaissance mansions. At its heart, Place-aux-Herbes, dominated and sheltered by the broad leaves of long ago established sycamore trees. Place-aux-Herbes fringed with its splendid arches, offering an array of enticing restaurants, many now old favorites, ‘Pizza du duche’, ‘A Cote’, ‘Le Terroir’ and ‘Zanelli’, where one could sit and enjoy the chatter and bustle and gentle sound of the Places’ glorious fountain. Place-aux-Herbes, host to carnival, the annual truffle fare, art fares, pottery exhibitions, brocants and renowned twice-weekly regional markets. Marchés, which had become such a part of my routine; smiling locals with linens, ribbons, baskets, and flowers, cheese makers, olive growers, and an abundance of fresh produce.

Uzès, with its unique, beguiling atmosphere to which I would always be bound had given me the feeling of having lived one hour, one day, one moment, back in time………..

Nice, capital of the Cote d’Azur

Nice, the capital of the Cote d’Azur, vibrant and exciting with its splendid shopping streets, famous beachfront Promenade d’ Anglais, its charming old town and stunning flower market.

The ancient history of Nice dates back to the Greeks, 350 BC, boasting one of the oldest settlements in Europe. It has been ruled by the Romans, returned to be part of Provence and then taken over by Italy and later Switzerland in the Middle Ages. In the mid-nineteenth century Nice was sold to Napoleon III in exchange for french financial and military assistance. Shortly after it became much frequented and much beloved by the English aristocracy. Beguiled by its beautiful setting and the warmth of the sunshine, the English brought a prosperity to the area previously unknown. They built luxurious, bougainvillea-covered villas, impressive churches and a walkway by the sparkling Mediterranean – Promenade des Anglais.

In the early twentieth century when the railway from Marseilles was extended, Nice became a destination, developing a tourist based economy with people travelling for the first time just for pleasure. Its picturesque surroundings also attracted those seeking inspiration – artists such as Chagall, Matisse and Arman, whose work is commemorated in the city’s fine museums. Today Nice remains the most visited city in France after Paris, attracting four million visitors every year.

While our boys soaked up the excitement and atmosphere of Formula One in nearby Monaco, we girls strolled Nice’s avenues, old town and seafront. We sampled some of the culinary abundance from the plentiful restaurants, pampered ourselves on private beaches, choose delicious fruits and vegetables for the evening’s dinner and gathered arms full of freshly picked blooms in the flower market. It was not hard to see why Nice has been and remains today such a favourite destination from visitors all over the world!

Vespas, espresso, pasta and Christopher Columbus!

Within a moment you have sped along the AutoRoute and it becomes the Autostrade and voilà France is behind you and you are in Italy! No passport control, no douane, no barricades, no police, just a dark blue square signpost with the familiar circle of gold stars and the words ‘France’ replaced by ‘Italy’. You are now in a different country! The roads are the same, the trees and plants but quick glimpses of the architecture reminds you that you are somewhere else.

Taller buildings, more compact, with longer, somewhat tattier looking shutters, the provencal ochre, blues and lavenders replaced with duller, more austere shades. The Autostrade hugs the coastline and twines its way along the Italian Rivera, close to the sparkling, beguiling Mediterranean. Small beach towns and fishing villages are frequently signposted, visited along twisting, winding switchbacks, bathed in sunlight beckoning you to sample their espressos, gelatos and pizzas closer to the water. You feel you should be in a convertible car with large sunglasses and a Hermes scarf neatly tied under your chin containing your beautifully coiffured locks, à la Grace Kelly!!

Within 90 minutes you are pulling up outside a smart Italian hotel in the city of Genoa, a bell boy anxiously rushing to relieve you of your luggage as you mutter ‘merci’, stammer and replace it with a ‘grazie’, one of the only 5 words of Italian you know, maybe your French isn’t so feeble after all!!!!

Genoa, sprawling strades, with a tempting indoor food hall, parmesan,

fresh pasta, luscious fruits and vegetables! Bustling cafes and

stylish people hurrying across magnificent piazzas and Vespas everywhere!

An impressive harbor, complete with a authentic replica of Neptune’s Galleon, appropriate for the city where one of the world’s most famous explorers was born – Christopher Columbus!

A Royal Pageant celebrating the Diamond Jubilee

Hundreds and thousands of people gathered together in London, June 2nd-5th 2012 to celebrate Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee. On June 4th the venue was on the River Thames for the Royal Pageant. Undeterred by inclement weather, torrential rain showers, bitter wind blasts and almost constant drizzle the crowds cheered, laughed and sang, full of patriotism and pride for the woman they hold dear to their hearts, their Queen.

Standing in amidst the excited, flag waving multitude one could not fail to be swept up by the enthusiasm and festive atmosphere. Our place secured at 7.30am by the hardcore younger members of our party on the Chelsea embankment, no one minded the eight-hour wait as the numbers swelled around us and the rain battered our brollies and raincoats! Warmed by Pimms and champers, a large screen TV kept us updated on the royal party’s progress.

Eventually the first of over one thousand boats participating in the pageant began to appear. From Hammersmith, they proudly sailed past in a grand procession to eventually disperse at Tower Bridge. Stunningly dressed for the occasion, adorned with flags, flowers and streamers, people and vessels alike attired in their most splendid rig.

One of the largest flotillas ever assembled we waved and applauded the rowing boats, working boats, cruisers, fire and police, boats from the armed forces, historic boats, steamers and wooden launches.

A spectacle to behold, the floating celebration enhanced by chiming bells, stirring bands and the voices of choirs singing to her Majesty. The majestic, timeless River Thames jubilantly bought to life reminiscent of its working history and splendid royal heritage, a perfect stage for a perfect celebration!

A tribute to Queen Elizabeth II’s Diamond Jubilee

Gracious, dignified, poised, respected and admired by millions across the globe. Queen Elizabeth II, the Queen of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth might only be a figurehead with no ‘real power’ but few others have set a more exemplary example of leadership. Her dedication and tireless commitment to duty demonstrate a work ethic seldom seen by even the most successful of leaders.

As we celebrate with pride, 60 years of this great leader’s reign, there are many lessons to be learned from her steadfastness, loyalty, determination and unwavering dedication to her responsibilities.

Nations across the world, people from different cultures and backgrounds, share a common connection with this incredible woman.

For many, Her Majesty is upheld as a timeless illustration of integrity and leadership – someone to look up to and emulate.

Congratulations to Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II on her Diamond Jubilee, 60 years of leading her people; an inspiring example to us all.

Turn the door handle to enter…….

Have you ever wondered what is behind ‘that door’, who lives or works there?

How many people the property enfolds, how old they are, what their lives involve, how the house is decorated, what stories the walls keep, whether there are any tell tale signs of the occupants, like a row of small children’s shoes as you walk in? I often think of these things, especially when I am somewhere where several generations have been ensconced.

I would love to be able to turn the handle and walk back in time!

These properties have doubtless seen significant changes of use, maybe from being an inn, to a shop, to a private home. A few hundred years ago such tall, imposing, shuttered buildings maybe housed several families but now are the pride and joy of one bourgeoisie, maybe it is even their 2nd home. Equally other dignified ‘grand dames of the street’ once belonging to a wealthy merchant or landowner have long since been divided into many tinier residences. Others have sadly fallen into decay, sheltering tenants or conversely they have been renovated into chic lofts and apartments or possibly during their life time have experienced all these changes in fortune.

If only walls could talk, the intrigue, the scandal, the sadness, the loss and the joy their secrets would reveal…put your hand on the door handle close your eyes and push open the entry, who knows what you’ll find on the other side~!