The South of France

The inspiration for the title of my blog is Hemingway's epigraph on his novel "A Moveable Feast". (Look up)!! Or, just to repeat, "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." While I have never been either a young man, or to Paris, I was lucky enough to live in the south of France when I was in my third year of university, and it was an experience that has had a lifelong impact on me, as I'm sure it did for everyone who went there. It was my moveable feast. Everyone has something that inspires them, and whatever your passion it is, let it be your moveable feast, what carries you through dark days, and times when life's routines seem mundane. You always have that spring inside you that feeds the lake of your inner self. (Deep, huh?) If you're lucky enough, you have a few springs to draw strength from, and cooking is one of mine, as is reading, and love of travel. I am fortunate to be able to travel as much as I have, and while I sometimes feel like a balloon that wants to float away, I know I have the stability of my family and friends and work life (or lives, depending on whether I'm at the store or indexing), to keep me grounded and safe.

A pretty nice place to study....

After a breakup with a boyfriend, and having no reason to skip class, I went to school one day  (in my second year at University of Waterloo), and in the hallway I noticed a poster advertising "l'universite canadienne en France" (UCF). I had never had much interest in going to France, I have always loved Great Britain and Italy, but something just made me want to take that leap of adventure. It felt like the right thing to do, so I applied (it was offered through Laurentian University). To prepare, I read "A Year in Provence" by Peter Mayle, loved it so much, and could not wait to be on my way in the fall of '94.  So off I went to the UCF campus on Mont Leuze, Villefranche-sur-mer, near Nice.

Going to UCF was a big decision for me, which required me to step out of my comfort zone and travel across the world on my own to meet a bunch of ultimately wonderful strangers, interesting professors, and to live on a mountaintop with about 120 other students. We had a great schedule, a four day school week, with French classes every day along with our other chosen subjects, and a three day weekend every week. We also had four weeks off for Christmas vacation, one of which I spent caring for an ailing professor, but that's a different story. Each villa had six rooms, shared, so twelve us had the use of one dining area and one tiny kitchen. I'm sure there were tensions and arguments, but I mostly remember everyone getting along pretty well, and I can guarantee that fun was being had at almost every moment somewhere!!

The Four Amigos - Shelley, me, Michelle, and Julia

Four of us who were really good friends were able to move into a different villa for the second term, where we had a whole floor (ie kitchen and dining room and bathroom) just to ourselves. It was great. Julia, Shelley, Michelle and I called ourselves the Four Amigos, and while Shelley seemed to drop off the radar immediately after returning home and I never heard from her again, I am still in touch with Julia and Michelle (aka Julio and Chichi....for some reason I was Juan).

Beaulieu-sur-mer

I remember going to Avignon with Michelle, and dancing on the bridge of song fame,  and almost going to Aix with Julia, except there was a train strike that day.....really, a train strike in France....and we ended up spending the day wandering around Beaulieu-sur-mer and the beach....a pretty good day, in other words. I've been out to PEI and visited Michelle when I was there, and Julia and I took a trip to New York City once upon a time.  

Almond Tree in February

 I don't really talk about my year in France anymore, not just because it was a long time ago, but because I know not everybody has had the chance to do that sort of thing and might not want to hear about it,  but it was meaningful for me, and it crosses my mind all the time, with unremarkable things triggering memories ....fresh rosemary reminds me of a girl who used to sautee spaghetti in olive oil and rosemary and other herbs that grew right outside our villa.... pasta carbonara reminds me of a dinner we prepared for another villa, raw egg yolk  cooking into the hot pasta..... espresso reminds me of my first evening in Nice at a cafe, outdoors under a starry sky, with the salted air waving in from the Mediterannean, where the espresso was so good on its own it needed no sugar or cream..... almonds remind me of a balmy afternoon on my birthday in February sitting under a blossoming almond tree....

In Nice

Citrus fruit make me think of the Orange Festival in Menton with giant sculptures made of oranges and lemons..... Chocolate croissants remind me of the cafe on our campus where I tried one for the first time, and fell in love with them.....
baguettes and brie remind me of my shopping trips to the Carre-Four in Nice.....

Cactus Garden in Eze

Chestnuts always make me think of marrons glaces (glazed chestnuts) which cost 8 francs each (it was a lot of money at the time, about $2) in the patisserie, sweet and soft and decadent..... crepes make me think of amazing creperies with dozens of fillings..... cacti remind me of the beautiful cactus garden at the top of the medieval village of Eze with its narrow windy cobbled streets, houses and shops crammed on either side...
.







.... a plaid blanket I still own reminds me of my first visit to Italy to the market town of Ventimiglia just across the border...... violin music makes me think of seeing virtuoso Joshua Bell perform with the Monte Carlo Philharmonic Orchestra with my music appreciation class, one of the most emotional musical experiences I've ever had.....

Olive Grove

....olives remind me of the day I ventured out on my own to Antibes and ate my lunch under a tree in an olive grove, surrounded by silvery green shade....
and I could go on and on.... and throughout all of these memories are woven the threads of friendship that were made while I was there. Because the best adventure is one shared....

....and tasted!!! A lot of these memories are triggered by food, and sometimes smells too. Every so often, I get a whiff of air that reminds of the way a strange place smells, and wonder if people touring my town notice. I still remember the strange combination of aromas on the walk from the bus stop in Nice to the grocery store....diesel fumes, coffee from a cafe, seafood from the sidewalk stall, the unromantic smell of dog merde, (I'm trying to be polite, not that it's a polite word in French, lol), and over all, the waves of freshly baked breads and sweets wafting out of the boulangeries and patisseries. So, I will be dipping into my memories of France here and there in my blog, this is just an intro. I wish everyone could have had a year like mine, and just remind yourself to truly the smell the roses (and EVERYTHING else) as you have your own adventures. Aromatically enhanced memories are part of the experience.