Updated: May 14, 2022
Nimes
After the day at the sea, we headed east to Nimes, the town denim was first made in (de'nim) I really wanted to buy a pair of jeans from Nimes, but sadly, found none. I don't think the French are as crazy about jeans as we, Americans, are. We rarely see anyone in jeans and when we do, we say, "They must be Americans."
Close to the coast, the countryside looked to me like I would imagine Italy to look like. Vineyard after vineyard, row after row, the growing grapes will someday be wine on someone's table. Perhaps, my own.
Nimes was holding their annual Feria De Nime Festival, a Pentecost celebration. There were street vendors selling chapeaus (hats) and matador scarves. The sun was beaming, so I purchas3d the hat and Kurt bought the scarf.
There were many food vendors selling paella in huge woks. My children chose that, but I opted for pizza. We have discovered the French don't eat on the run like we do. They sit...they smoke...they talk and laugh...they have a drink...then they order their meal. They take the time to savor each bite. Then they smoke...they drink...they talk and laugh. Then, they have dessert. When all that is finished, they have a cafe' (and another smoke), A course of its own, cafe' is meant to be enjoyed all by itself.
We learned that there was a bullfight four hours later. We sat together on a big green lawn, filled with festival goers, and discussed if we should stay for the bullfight or drive home to Baran. Chelsea REALLY wanted to stay for it, but I didn't care to. Kurt broke the tie and we decided to stay. When else would we ever see one?
We spent the next few hours seeing Nimes, glorious fountains, a peaceful hilltop park, and the Maison Caree, built in 19 BC. It is hard to comprehend that length of time and try to imagine the men who built it.
And then, off to the bullfight.
Mediterranean Sea
Tired of the rain, we headed to the beaches in the south of France. It was a long drive, but so worth it for some much-needed sunshine. We stopped along the way to purchase some beach mats and towels, then found a public beach and hauled our new beach items along the brown pebbly beach. It was such a contrast to the white sandy beaches of the Gulf of Mexico.
The water was very cold, so we didn't get in too deep. There weren't many people on the beach since it was early in the season. Unbeknownst to us, on France's public beaches, tops are optional. On one side of there was a pregnant woman and on the other side an elderly Asian lady, both of whom had chosen that option. Awkward for us. After a sunny day on this beautiful Mediterranean beach, we were ready for a good meal.
Dinner in Perpignan
Dressed for dinner at La France Restaurant
Two of my three children making silly faces.
After dinner, we stopped in a narrow pathway to listen to a local band play for just a bit. We were tired from all the sun and just wanted to chill in our hotel room. It was a brand-new hotel, very modern. We had to put our room key in the slot for the electricity to come on in the room.
It was interesting to flip through the television channels and watch old episodes of ER and Murder She Wrote, dubbed in French. The only English-speaking channel was the BBC...boring.
Up at 5 am to pick Chelsea up at Charles de Gaulle. It was a welcome change to drive through the empty streets of Paris. On the interstate, we passed a long line of cars in an exit lane. After we passed, we realized that was our exit, as well. We had to keep driving five more miles to the next exit. We took some back roads, which just so happened to lead us directly to terminal 1. We had no idea which terminal her flight would arrive in. Her phone wasn't working, and we had no way to reach her. I was panicked not knowing how we would ever find her. I felt sick that she would be scared and not be able to communicate with anyone since she didn't speak French at all. We stood at the gate with a mass of people holding up signs for their arriving parties.
No Chelsea.
Kurt stood there waiting while I walked around searching the crowd here and there.
No Chelsea.
Kurt noticed a man in a cowboy hat, so I asked him if he was arriving from Charlotte. He was. Everyone else had gotten off the plane.
No Chelsea.
I was about to lose it. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see my smiling Chelsea. I grabbed her and squeezed her tight once, then again, and again. I felt the sobs coming and I had to let them out. I hadn't realized just how worried I really was. Whew!
Kurt, Chelsea and I, finally in the car, headed straight into morning rush hour traffic. We went so slow for so long that the GPS lady asked, "Would you like to switch to pedestrian mode?" We may have laughed a little too hard out of relief.
Out of Paris, we stopped for fueling and Kurt made me drive so I would be prepared when I pick up Mom and Kathy next week.
It was so good to be back at our home in Baran. We had heard great things about La Merenda, a quaint restaurant owned by a married couple in the nearby town of Meyrals. The wife runs the restaurant upstairs and her husband runs the tavern downstairs. It was really good French food. Kurt and Chelsea really liked the Magret de Canard.
his restaurant is way out in the country. One would think that only the locals eat there, but when we arrived, we were seated at a table set for a large group of people. We tried our best to convey that there were only three of us. Finally, they moved us to a smaller table. Just then, we heard people outside speaking English. I listened. "They are southerners." When they entered, we said, "Hello." As they returned our greeting, I said, "They sound like they could be from Kentucky." They were!
At the table next to us in a remote little local restaurant deep in the countryside of France, were 4 couples from Kentucky, and Wildcat fans, no less. We even knew several of the same people. What a coincidence!
We savored our after-dinner cafe's
On the way home, we took Chelsea to see L'Oratoire at dusk. It is such a beautiful and special place.
