Home and Thoughts on France

We arrived home about 10 p.m. on Saturday night.  The house was plenty quiet throughout Sunday as Gracie Lou was still at "the spa" (Dr. Shields pad) until Monday a.m.  You can bet, though, that the first opportunity on Monday I could get to go and spring her, I took.  As always, she's pretty wound up from her stay there so it usually takes a couple days to get her relaxed again.

Today is now Wednesday and I've had time to get back into EST (Eastern Standard Time) and reflect some on this trip.  So, allow me to share some of those observations:

• France is a beautiful country, with nice people, a lovely language. and a culture second to none
• I love the pace of life in the small villages we saw (Arles, Vienne, Saint Remy) and could see  myself rising in the morning, walking to a café for a leisurely expresso (or four), reading the Columbus Dispatch on my iPad, and whiling away the day in a relaxed, charming place
• The French Riviera (Cote d'Azur) is equally beautiful, but much more urban and, for that reason, a great place to visit but wouldn't want to live there unless I was filthy rich and could have an apartment to visit a few weeks a year
• Except for a couple small snafus, the service on Viking was pretty darned good and the food was even better
• Our company - Ray and Mary Lee - was, as always, a ton of fun to travel with
• There's nothing like getting to spend time with Cheryl, away from the grind, in a relatively relaxing situation.  I enjoy being with her and she enjoys being with me.  With that said, we each still enjoy working and the challenges of that life, so it was also good to get back to work.
• And, in the end . . . there's no place like home (as the heels of my sneakers click together and I say it over and over like Dorothy).

Thanks for following along and will hopefully have other adventures to blog about in the not too distant future.   Peace and love.

Nice, Nice, Very Nice

The title was an early hit song for Ambrosia, an LA-based progressive rock band, in about 1971.  And, while it refers to the word "nice" (not Nice like this place), the sentiment fits our extra 3 days here on the French Riviera.

St Nicholas Orthodox Cathedral

Today (Friday) was pretty relaxed.   We had a nice breakfast and then took a cab to the Russian Orthodox church we saw on yesterday's tour .  . . just as the bus whizzed by it.  Today we had a chance to look around at what is the largest Orthodox church outside of Russia, built by Russians on the spot that Nicholas I died of an unknown illness in the late nineteenth century.  It was opened in 1912 thanks to the generosity of his son, Csar Nicholas II, who was killed a few short years later as part of the Russian revolution.

On the way in was a clearly marked sign that showed, in symbols, no video/no photography/no eating or drinking, etc.   The problem was that I missed the sign, so about three or four photos into the inner sanctum and at the beginning of a service being held, a young Russian "security" officer came over and said "Twice, o.k. Three times and you're out!" and he wasn't saying it with a smile.  So, Cheryl and I turned and left and only then, on the way out, did I see the sign.  I felt bad about it all day, but hey, people make mistakes.

Ray, Cheryl, and I walked the several blocks back toward the English Promenade and then along it, surveying the beach and the blue, blue, blue Mediterranean.  Magnificent hotels from yesteryear and well-kempt throughout the ensuing decades, lined the Promenade des Anglais.  One of these, the Hotel Negresco, was particularly interesting.

Opened in 1912 by Romanian Alexander Negrescu, it was meant for the wealthiest of society.  It features a spectacular Baccarat 16,309-crystal chandelier in the Negresco's Royal Lounge as commissioned by Czar Nicholas II who, due to the October revolution in Russia, was unable to take delivery.   Today's owner is Madame Jeanne Augier ,  She's 95 years old and has no family to leave this magnificent hotel to as part of her estate. 

Instead, her will bequeaths it to France's SPCA for the ongoing benefit for their animals.  That should provide quite a nest egg for the care of defenseless creatures all over France for many years.

Arriving at our hotel, we decided that it was the right time for a nap, so that occupied the next couple hours.  We arose for dinner and went back to the "Old City" where we had a lovely dinner at  Bistro Romain, followed by a stroll home (back to the hotel).

Tomorrow (Saturday), we leave Nice at 11:30 a.m., land in JFK with a long layover, and hope by 8:30 pm to be landing in good ole' Columbus, Ohio.   Can't wait to be home and pick up Gracie Lou Freebush Mace.   I'll probably write one more post to sum up the trip after having a bit of time to reflect on it, so don't hesitate to check back in a couple days. 

La Cote d'Azur in the Sunshine

Thursday in paradise began with a Viking-sponsored tour of Nice.  At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I believe we've had enough of riding around in large buses deciphering, with more or less success, what a French guide is telling us.  One more of this from 9 - Noon, our last one for the trip, centered on Nice and some very spectacular sites.

Nice is the capital of the French Riviera, know here by its French name as Cote d'Azur.  It is the southeast corner of France and contains the principality of Monaco.  Between Nice and Monaco lies Ville Franche where Cheryl's Dad spent time in the US Navy in the late 40's, and suggested we go look up one of his "acquaintainces" while we were there. . .  more on that later.

About 350 BC, the Greeks were the first to settle in Nice, calling it Nikaia after Nike, the goddess of victory.  Through its history, it has changed hands many times, particularly between the Italians (with Italy only a few short miles to the east) and the French, culminating in a vote where the people decided they'd rather be French in 1860.  And so it has remained since.

The clear air and beautiful light has been attractive to some of the finest painters, including Chagall and Matisse, both of whom lived here for many years.  And, the perpetually sunny climate (300+ days of sunshine per year) has attracted the rich from around the world for more than a century, particularly the English and more recently the Russians.

A view of Nice looking toward Spain and the west

Our first stop on our Viking tour of Nice was an overlook on one of the surrounding mountains (which, coincidentally, keep the mistral reported earlier down to a near whisper).  From this vantage point, the views were spectacular of the city and harbor.  The harbor seemed fairly bereft of yachts, though, and our guide indicated it is very difficult to get a pass into it - no cruise ships, no large ships - intentionally.

While at this beautiful overlook, our guide pointed out at the very top of the mountain a square tower as part of Elton John's home where he's had a "little place" for more than 30 years.   Our guide for Part 2 (described later) told us  he'd been there once and the entrance was festooned with naked male gnomes in all sorts of dancing positions.   Ah, the decadence.

The Regina (meaning Queen) was the home for Queen
Victoria (1837 - 1876) on her many excursions to Nice

Other sites seen on our city tour echoed both the artistic nature of Nice as well as the rich heritage of its aritocracy of the British, Europeans, and more recently the Russians.  There were many, many hotels on The English Promenade (the long street facing the sea as built and developed by, you guessed it, the Brits) and throughout the city on the nearby hills.

Most of the latter have been turned into condominiums (very pricey) or apartments, including The Regina as frequented by Queen Victoria.  She is reputed to have said in her dying moments, "If only I were in Nice I'd be healed!" A small condominium in the Regina goes for about 1M Euros, with monthly condo fees of course!

We spent a good deal of time at some magnificent gardens at a Franciscan monastery perched atop one of the mountains.  10 monks remain and take care of these gardens year round and the view from there was, as you'd guess, one more on the list of spectacular sites. 

The scent of the roses in the garden was simply wonderful, and many colors were in full bloom. And, the church on the site was also just beautiful, conveying a feeling of God inside and out.

Back to the "old town" (medieval) of Nice to finish our morning tour, and we saw magnificant markets overflowing with produce, fruits, chocolates, and all things edible.  We're very likely to spend our closing afternoon tomorrow (Friday) there and finding one of the innumerable restaurants for our last dinner in lovely France.

Our "Day and Night" tour group in Eze
with Cheryl, Robin, Mary Lee, Ray,
and our new friends JV and Azhar Ali

For the afternoon, I had previously scheduled a "Day and Night Tour of Monaco" for our intrepid band of four.  Our guide, Robin, picked us up promptly at the hotel at 1 p.m. and off we went with another couple from Pakistan - not in one of those behemoth buses, but rather in a small, comfortable van.  And, Robin himself would've been worth an afternoon of talking over espresso as he is half French, half Italian, has lived all over the world, and currently lives in Kiev with his girlfriend / fiancee.  His political views on both the Russians ("hate them") and the Americans ("the Ukrainians hate them for abandoning them, but you people are very nice") were particularly interesting.

Off we went in Robin's van toward the Golden Corniche (the highest of three roads connecting the cities, and built by the Romans) with a first stop at yet another magnificent overlook.  Photos galore were taken and we all hopped back in the van for an incredibly windy road with very tight turns along the cliffs leading to Monaco.  I honestly couldn't look over the side because we were very high up and I have a thing - not a good one - for heights.

A next stop was at an ancient castle atop a mountain where, according to Robin, was still fully intact because the French troops who occupied it throughout its long history had never fought a battle to protect it. 

According to him, when the Germans arrived in World War II, they simply opened the gates and told them to come on in.  It has only been recently opened to the public and, curiously, required one to buy a ticket for entrance from the Tourism office in the city, so all we could do was walk around it and, for me, keep to the path while Cheryl danced around the edges with a sheer drop to a certain death.

A few more miles on the Golden Corniche (and not many because it is only about 15 miles from Nicefto Monaco) and around the corner appeared Villefranche.  As earlier noted, Cheryl's father, Ray Creamer, has remarked a number of times about his days as a young American sailor and the apparent good times spent not only there but elsewhere in the Mediterranean.  From a high mountain vantage point, it, too, was just beautiful and we could easily see why a young man from West Virginia would be completely charmed by it and perhaps a French girl or two.

Our first stop after Villefranche was Eze, France, a small town dating back to 600 BC and perched atop a mountaintop about 1,600 feet above the Mediterranean.  Now it is a mass of small artisans and restaurants, and both Cheryl and Mary Lee dropped some euros on some fine custom jewelry, tablecloths, paintings, etc. and undoubtedly could've spent a lot more if not for my watchful eye (with at least my wife . . . .ML I couldn't control so where was Ray when you needed him?).

Mr. Nose sits in the midst of all of this, developing scents

Barely 100 yards down the road from Eze was our next stop, the Frangongard parfumeur.  We had a tour and got the explanation on the process, including their own "Mr. Nose" who designs their fragrances. 
Apparently there are only 50 - 100 "Mr. Nose(s)" in the world and the training is long and rigorous.  Both Cheryl and ML found perfumes, soaps, and skin creams that they couldn't live without, so the bags began piling up in the back of Robin's van.  I make light of it but it really was quite a place that any woman would loved to have seen.

Finally, on to Monaco, a principality occupying less than one square mile of land on the Riviera, with Monte Carlo as one of five "districts" and home of the annual International Gran Prix for Formula I racing.  The big race was set to occur in about a week so signs of it were everywhere.

Originally founded as a Genoan colony in 1165, a member of the Grimaldi family posed as a monk and was allowed into the walled city.  In the dark of the night, he went to the gate and allowed his accompanying band of mercenaries inside where they quickly took charge and established their rule for the next several centuries.  Today, Prince Albert of Monaco (Grimaldi) is the current man in charge, but Americans know Monaco from his father (dashing Prince Rainier) and his very beautiful mother, American movie star, Grace Kelly, who died in a car accident nearby in 1982.

Our walking tour of Monaco included beautiful seaside gardens, the cathedral where Rainier and Grace Kelly were married (and now buried side-by-side), and the open courtyard fronting the palace.  I was surprised at the relative plainness of the palace, but I'm sure it is magnificent inside.  It was fronted by a good deal of security, but I have to say that, compared to Buckingham palace and its grenadiers, it was pretty low key.

A view of Monaco from the courtyard outside the Palace

Our final stop in Monaco was the magnificent opera house and dinner at the Cafe Paris.  While expensive, it was good and how often does one get to eat al fresco in a foreign country? 

Robin brought us home after dark on the lowest corniche, but not before making a round on the streets that comprise the upcoming race.  At one stop sign (that obviously won't be there for the race), I told him to "gun it" and he did so, but the van didn't have much power and it only provided a laugh from all of us.

Home to bed after a very long day, reflected by
the length of this post.  Tomorrow is our final day here and then off to the good old USA on Saturday morning.  I'll have a post of our final day, so please stay tuned, and thanks for reading

A small (un peu) amount of sweetness for dessert after dinner at the Cafe Paris

N-I-C-E Indeed

We checked out of our accommodations on the Viking Delling this morning, and boarded a coach for the three+ hour ride to Nice where we'll spend today (Wednesday), Thursday, Friday, and much of Saturday before departing for home.  Even though it was a comfortable motor coach, it seemed like every time I (and most of the other patrons) started to doze, our French guide felt the need to chime in with some arcane bit of information about the area we were passing through.

One time, though, I enjoyed her comments as about halfway to Nie we passed by the Basilica of Mary Magdelene.  Seen from the highway about a mile or so away in Vezelay of Burgundy, it involved the story of Mary Magdelene.  Fleeing from persecution after Jesus death, she and two companions landed in France and made their way from the coast (about 50 miles or so) to this place where she lived in a cave for 30 years.  Upon her death, legend has it that the angels took her body and left it in the place where the basilica was built in her memory.  It is said to still contain her bones, there, and was the site of many miracles . . .  so goes the story.

We gradually passed Cannes, home of the film festival beginning next week.  Cheryl and I were there on our Riviera tour of a few years ago.  Then, on into Nice where we made our way to Le Meridien hotel where the guests from our ship are all staying, located directly across from the ever-so-blue waters of the Mediterrranean.  I believe I said this at the time about Cannes, but bluer water I've never seen.

Now it is about 6 p.m. here and we're getting ready to walk up the English Promenade (the main street here facing the beaches of Nice) to find a place for dinner with Ray and Mary Lee.  Lunch was a cheesburger that cost about 20 Euros - wow! - so hoping dinner can be found for not much more as it is expensive, as to be expected in someplace so n-i-c-e!

A view from the terrace restaurant at our hotel, Le Meridien

Tomorrow is a tour of Nice in the morning, and then we board a small bus for a "Day and Night Tour of Monaco".  I'll tell the Prince (whose private hangar we saw from afar at the Nice airport) hello for any of you who'd like me to. . . . .

Van Gogh Was but I'm Certainly Not

Today was all about Vincent van Gogh (or van Gog as our French guide pronounced it) a genius painter of the nineteenth century.  "Arles in van Gogh's Footsteps" was our tour today, beginning with a private painting class at La Couverture Verte ("the Green Blanket") at Arles Siqueiros Fine Arts School.  A charming, fortyish Frenchman, Phillipe Monnier, and his wife conducted a class for about 18 of us from our ship, including both Cheryl and I.

Phillipe, our instructor, with JD displaying his masterpiece
showing van Gogh's bedside table

It all centered on van Gogh, and began with us using a small square cutout that we placed over, first, a black-and-white drawing to select an area for us to try and copy.  Mine was lousy.  Then, we repeated it in color, and finally with a larger square on a larger area of a van Gogh painting.

Quite by accident, I selected a picture of his bedside table in his room at the psychiatric hospital, a place later seen with our own eyes at the Saint-Paul Asylum in Saint-Remy.  On the whole, it lasted a couple hours and was, initially, frustrating but gradually became great fun and enjoyable.  I've certainly never done anything like that before - perhaps in first grade for Ms. Ruth Taylor in 1963.

The theater in Arles, one of many local scenes
captured by van Gogh

From this experience, we walked around Arles where van Gogh spent 15 months from 1888 to 1889.  While there, he descended into madness but managed to finish 200 paintings.  All of these he gave away except one that he sold for money - the only one ever!  Our walkabout centered on sites in Arles that were imortalized by van Gogh on canvas.  It was beautiful to imagine him standing there 100+ years ago and painting away, except I imagined hearing him cursing when the mistral (see yesterday's post) would blow his materials all over the place!

After lunch in Arles, we jouneyed by bus down more of those same tiny roads (that make you wonder how two cars can pass each other in opposite directions) to St. Remy.  First, we visited a remarkably intact set of Roman remains that served as the entrance to a now competely ruined Roman city.  One column was a salute from a grandson to his grandfather while the other was an arc de triomphe.  It is amazing how they've survived when there's nothing left of the rest of the town.

Initially, van Gogh spent about two months in a psychiatric "hospital" in Arles.  His stay there was precipitated by an argument with fellow painter (and apparently his only friend) Paul Gaugin after which he cut off his left ear (bet that showed his buddy!). Later, he spent a year toward the end of his life in the mental institution attached to St. Paul de Mausole Monastery.  While there, he created 150 additional paintings including some of his best known.   Not long after his discharge, he shot himself in the chest with a revolver and died from infection a few days later at age 37.  His last words were "The sadness will last forever."

I remarked to Cheryl that the contrast between the beauty he created in his paintings vs. the sadness of his life was difficult to comprehend.  And, I can add that after the painting experience of the morning, I can truly appreciate what a genius he was because it is incredibly difficult to make something that looks reasonable and his paintings were literally glowing. So, in deference to van Gogh, he was a genius painter, and I am most certainly not. 

After our day of him, we went back into Saint-Remy for some closing shopping.   Cheryl bought a few gifts for friends and we boarded the bus after a "Coke Light" at a cafe, and are soon headed to our final dinner on the Viking Delling ship.  Tomorrow we leave at 9 a.m. for a 4-hour bus ride to Nice where we'll spend an additional 3 days.   Back to you later tomorrow evening after a walkabout and dinner in Nice.  It'll be "nice".

The Starry Night, by Vincent van Gogh

"Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)"

by Don McLean

Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul

Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue

Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night

You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could've told you Vincent
This world was never meant for
One as beautiful as you

Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frame-less heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget

Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free

They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

The Mistral, the Pope and the Pont

We didn't make the walk around Viviers after dinner last night because of "the mistral".  The mistral is a strong, cold, northwesterly wind that blows from southern France into the northern Mediterranean with sustained winds exceeding 50 - 60 mph.  After enduring it along with cold temperatures yesterday morning, we decided nothing we would see would be worth getting cold again.   People who did go were bundled up in winter coats, mufflers, and toboggan caps. .  . .one person I talked to said it was miserable. Instead we were tucked snugly into bed and watching television.

The city wall surrounding Avignon

Today when we awoke the mistral was still blowing but the temperature was clearly on the rise with a forecast for 60+ degrees fahrenheit for this afternoon.  I said "be not afraid" and broke out the shorts, again. 

After breakfast, we started our walking tour of Avignon, the remarkable home of seven 14th. century popes inside the walled city of Avignon. The papacy was relocated here from Rome to great convtroversy from 1309 to 1377 by French Pope Clement V .  It seems as if things were "hot" in Rome and a couple of his predecessors had died under mysterious circumstances.   Since Avignon was part of the Roman empire, off they went in a major relocation of the Papacy.  Wikipedia says this absence from Rome is sometimes referred to as the "Babylonian Captivity of the Papacy".

From this window the Pope would
appear to the citizenry gathered
in the courtyard below.

Entrance to the Palais des Papes

The Palais des Papes is made up of two buildings: the old Palais of Benedict XII which sits on the impregnable rock of Doms, and the new Palais of Clement VI, the most extravagant of the Avignon popes.   There were many fabulous rooms inside including the Dining Hall, the Pope's bedroom, his office, and chapel. 

Interestingly, in the days before smoke, white or black, signaled the outcome of a papal conclave (the selection of the next pope), a tower bell in the palace rang for 24 hours to signal that a pope had been selected, and to signal nearby towns of the outcome of the election.  They, in turn, would ring their bells accordingly for 24 hours in honor of the new pope.  And, of course, the exit from the building went through - you guessed it - the gift shop which was a two-floor extravaganza.

Back through the narrow medieval streets we went toward the ship, and saw the Pont d'Avignon (more correctly known as the Pont Saint-Bénézet) which was built between 1177 and 1185 to serve as a means of collecting taxes for transport across the Rhone.  It was eventually abandoned in the 17th. century, but is known to music lovers by the song we heard as children, "Sur le pont d'Avignon".

After lunch, we boarded a bus for the Pont du Gard Aqueduct, a fabulous Roman artifact dating from the first century AD.  It was designed to allow water to flow from a natural spring on a winding path, over a gorge and the Gardon River, for 31 miles to the Roman city of Nimes.   And, here's where wearing shorts paid off as the day grew progressively more beautiful. 

Wikipedia says the whole aqueduct descends in height by only 56 feet over its entire length, while the attached bridge descends by a mere 1 inch, indicative of the great precision that Roman engineers were able to achieve using only simple technology. The aqueduct carried an estimated 44,000,000 gallons of water a day to the fountains, baths and homes of the citizens of Nîmes, and was truly impressive.  The museum on the grounds of this UNESCO site was also very impressive, but curiously about 2/3 of the explanations were in French only.

We're heading to dinner in a few short minutes where it is the Captain's farewell, as tomorrow (Tuesday) is our last full day on the cruise ship (with 3 days in Nice to follow).   Cheryl and I are booked for an all-day experience entitled "Arles in van Gogh's Footsteps" where we'll attend a private painting class.   More on that tomorrow!

Turn Around in Tournon

Cold, rainy, dreary - that's what Sunday has wrought for us in France.  Docked in Tournon, we skipped the thirty minute walking tour at 8:30 a.m., opting instead to wait for the bus ride to the Train de l'Ardeche.  Tournon is  a small town lying between the Rhone River and nearby vineyard-blanketed granite slopes, and well known as an excellent wine-producing region (Tain-l'Hermitage).   A hermit returning from the Crusades planted the original vines here and invited travelers to drink with him.

Steam from the engine shrouds a
bridge over the gorge

The Tournon steam train tour was about 40 minutes up a mountain aboard the Train de l'Ardeche, powered by a steam locomotive built in 1903.   The entire region is inaccessible by road, making it a pristine wilderness along the Doux River.  The weather kept us from dropping our train car's glass windows down and made me think it would be a really beautiful experience in the fall, but today was, again, cold and dreary.

The locomotive on the turntable

One interesting thing about the steam train tour was seeing a canal built alongside the river by German POWs during World War I to help provide a regular water supply for people of Tournon.  Our guide said "In the first war, they were our prisoners.  In the second, we were theirs!"  Another was watching (in the rain) the steam locomotive detach itself at the halfway point, move forward about a quarter mile then back up along a nearby track and onto a turntable . . . . .after spinning around 4 or 5 times to the delight of the crowd, it backed up again and onto another track to get to the front of the passenger cars (the back of the train on the ride up) to guide us back down the mountain. A few toot toots of the whistle and we were back on our way down.

After lunch, we resumed sailing toward Viviers where we'll dock later this afternoon.  Viviers was founded as a Roman settlement in the fifth century.   We're set to take a walk around town after dinner tonight, so more on it later.