French la Vie

Chelsea and Martin's Apartment in Paris

 

Dear French La Vie Readers,

 

As you most likely know, Martin & I are expecting a baby very soon. 

We will give birth in Paris and stay here for a few weeks before heading down to the South of France, to our parent's homes for the summer. We are looking forward to being together as a family.

We are therefore hoping to rent out our apartment to someone we can trust for a month or two while we are back in our childhood homes with our newborn.

 

 

 

Below is some practical information if ever you or someone you know may be interested:

Availability & Price: 

July and/or August 2019. For one or two people. 1500 Euros for one month or  2800 Euros for two months. 

Location:

Central Paris, 10th arrondissement. 

 

 

 

The Apartment:

-             Two bedrooms (one is the baby’s room with a fold out couch),

-             One bathroom with a bathtub/shower,

-         A washing machine is available,

-             A fully equipped kitchen,

-             A living room/dining room with large screen TV & cable & Wifi,

-             On the 3rd floor (with an elevator) of a building inside a courtyard (no view of the street, calm),

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Neighborhood

-        A lively local neighborhood with many shops & restaurants, theatres. Many metros & buses around,

-        A five-minute walk from Gare de l’Est & the Canal Saint-Martin, a ten-minute walk from Place de la Republique, 10-20 minute from Le Marais (bus or metro),

-        Direct metro to Chatelet, Notre Dame, Montparnasse train station…

-        2 covered markets within walking distance, Grocery store a minute away.

-               Practical, Safe, Charming... Paris.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Please note:

We are renting the apartment as it is (with our belongings in it).

We moved in this year, so we haven’t spent the summer months there yet. It shouldn’t be too hot there isn't an AC though there are electric fans.

Our old but renovated building has many young families with children, so you can sometimes hear them running around or crying but it usually doesn't last long.

Our home is a NON-SMOKING, NO PETS apartment.

Please respect our neighbors: NO PARTIES allowed.

Don't hesitate to contact me directly if you have any questions,

Chelsea xx

chelseaetmartin@gmail.com

 

Babies are Sugar Lumps

 

 

There is something about a baby...

their baby smell, their little hands, their plump ruby lips, pinchable cheeks, silk ribbon tied wrists, their little bald heads...

Babies I am sorry to say I could swallow them whole like a lump of sugar.

 

Oh, and when they coo.

When they smile in their sleep.

When they want to stay in your arms and do not want you to put them down.

When they are, just as they are, chubby little deliciousness. 

 

When they nibble on your finger, and drool, soaking their clothes.

When they try to stand.

When they want what they want, trying to let you know by their little sounds.

 

 

 

When they hold your finger.

When they make you a family.

When they look into their eyes letting you know your world is no longer your own.

I love babies, I do.

Thankful am I that I had two... even when one of them didn't sleep through the night until he was five years old.

Oh those long sleepless nights, how I would take one of them now with absolute joy!

But only just one... 

Love is letting them go into their tomorrows, no matter how much you want to keep them a baby forever.

 

SuperHero

While sourcing furniture at Isle sur la Sorgue for our friends Gary and Ching for their new home in Cassis we ran into Superman.

 French Husband or Superman who is the real hero?

I am going to say French Husband because I know it is true for me. Even if today at lunch when he ordered strawberry cheesecake a delicious one at that then said he would save me a bite for me and seconds later polished off the cheesecake plus every single crumb.

I guess superpowers need their fuel.

He is a hero even if he eats in record speed and forgets to share he is still a hero.

What Superpower do you wish you had?

 

Loved Child

 

I am already in love.

We all are.

To love without knowing. 

A baby. A Grandchild that is already deeply loved.

 

 

Martin's parents are first-time grandparents as well, they are in love already too.

Giddy.

Martin's mother knitted baby clothes, darling ones at that. She asked if I knew how to knit at this moment I wish I did.

I took out the antique baby clothes I have been buying over the years. The little child will be head to toe 19th-century eyelet and white cotton... well when he is at our house that is.

Baby clothes in France are beyond darling. I cannot go into baby stores I just want it all.

Maybe Chelsea will have to install one of those "take a ticket" things in her home as we are all going to want to hold the baby forever.

Already in love.

Period.

 

 

Chelsea says that she rather that I did not use Va as that is my mother's Grandmother name (Portuguese). I told her I called both my Grandmother's Va. She asked, "How did you know which one was which when they called or when your mother said, "We are going to Va's house?" I smiled at the memory that brought up. I said, "My brothers and I would say, "Va with the gum or Va with the coffee?" 

I guess I could be called, "Sugar".

What name do you have or

will have or would take if you were a Grandmother?

___

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Last Lilacs

 

 

Walking around the countryside as Spring unfolds has allowed me to see nature's secrets. The barren branches, the buds bursting, the petals unfolding... I now know where the flowers bloom wildly, and where I can pick from the unattended fig and cherry trees.

Yesterday I went to pick some lilacs.

 

 

 

 

 

Then I gathered some long branches with tiny white roses.

My home has never had as many bouquets!

 

 

 

Darker lilacs grew further up the path so I gathered some of those too for the living room.

On the way back I saw my neighbor, she asked if I was hopping fences to steal flowers. I knew she was teasing, but to be sure I shared my source.

 

 

Today I saw an older neighbor, her arms overflowed with lilacs, she said, "Up the road, to the left, down the path and across the field there are wild lilacs bushes..."

I guess I am not the only one to find the secrets unfolding in wild places.

Pregnant and Beautiful

 

Chelsea came home for a few days as she is on maternity leave.

There is something surreal to see my daughter full and ripe with a baby in her womb. I have felt the baby move, watched her belly roll around, have witnessed the glow of love in her eyes and yet a baby is hard to imagine, a living person, a reincarnation of family cells.

Surreal beauty with deeply felt anticipation stirs within us.

 Forever life growing amongst us. Tender are these days ahead.

 

 

I have one more French la Vie before the baby is to be born, it starts next week I hope the baby isn't born then. After the French la Vie I will leave for Paris for a month. Then around July third Chelsea and Martin will come and stay in Provence for two months. And they think that after two months they will return to their home in Paris. I think I will keep the baby, how will I ever say goodbye after two months of doting?

 

A full circle embracing past, present, and future.

 

My Mother's Influence

 

Antiquing or the Brocante Bug as I have called it has been in my blood since I was a girl. The first thing I ever bought was a brown glass ink bottle, a small bone hand mirror, and a blue beaded 1920s clutch was when I was twelve years old with my own babysitting money. I left them in the States when I moved to France. At first romantic sweet things appealed to me, though for some reason I never thought of it that way until Jennifer my friend came to help me with the French la Vie. Watching her buy antiques rusty, country style gems that my mother loves showed me that I rarely look at those type of things, though they appeal to me and remind me of home and my mother's style.

My mother's influence on buying and selling antiques has had a major impact on my life, but more than her attraction for old things, her passion for creating a magical creative life stirs deeply within me, she taught me to take the ordinary and make it extraordinary.

 

Use silver and your "good" plates every day.

Put a tablecloth on the table.

Bake for the whole community.

She says, "Use your stuff or give it away. Why keep it in the closets? When you die your children might not want it and sell it for 25 cents at a yard sale."

Do you know that my mom decorates funeral luncheon's for our church community? And has for over twenty years.

Life is meant to be celebrated even at death.

 

We learn. We grow. We change and we become. 

 

 

What My Friend Found at the Brocante During the French La Vie, and She Wasn't Going to Buy Anything

 

My friend Jennifer came to help me with the two back to back French la Vie Journeys that I led. She was Godsent. A ball of energy. Funny no really funny. Swore like a truck driver or better yet worse than me. Drove like a French person which is a big plus, and I could go on an on with singing no shouting her praise. I forgot how much I miss my life in the States when old dear friends come to visit. I wish she was my neighbor, heck I wish she was my roommate!

Jennifer said she wasn't going to buy anything. But I know that brocante bug, I know how it bites and it bit Jennifer from her toes to the top of her head.

She bought and bought and bought.

My mother and Jennifer have a similar style which made me miss my mom and see her in every move Jennifer made which brought a rush of happy feelings.

 

 

 

 

I posted and post daily on INSTAGRAM especially in the "Stories" when I posted photos of what Jennifer found I had a flood of comments asking to buy what she had. Unfortunately, she did not want to let go of anything... well except a bag of nuts she bought at a shop. 

The French la Vie Group enjoyed Jennifer so much that Gloria and Barbara said, "When we come back we want Jennifer to be here too."

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next French la Vie is at the end of June, it is for one week. An adding plus is lavender will be in full bloom. Picnic and photos will be on the agenda along with brocanting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you think she likes Red?

Rust?

Tin?

Metal?

Check and stripes?

Cooking utensils?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you, Jennifer, I cannot wait for you to come again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eight Months -Soon To Be

 

Soon Chelsea will be a mother and Martin a father.

Their baby is loved.

 

Do you want to play a game?

 

 

Guess:

The birth date?

The sex of the baby?

The name?

The weight?

Will the baby have a lot of hair or not.

Chelsea was born after her due date: December 20th, 1989

She weighed 9.7 pounds without a single hair.

I had a cesarean after hours of labor at the hospital of Dr. Michel Odent, Dr. Laboyer, and Dr. Lamaze

 

 

 

What a beautiful Mother you will be Chelsea girl!

The Feast of Being a Mother

 

Next year my daughter Chelsea will be celebrating Mother's Day differently as her baby will be in her arms.

I will be a grandmother,

and my mother a great grandmother.

The wonder of giving birth, bring life, loving another, helping and watching a baby become their own person, it is an utter miracle, a masterpiece, a workout, a rollercoaster ride of emotion, a full circle of everything, anything and beyond imagination.

A child is a gift like no other.

I was fortunate to have a mother who loved me and showed me how to be a good person by setting an example in her life. I was fortunate to have a mother who loved my father and that they shared a beautiful life together, who was unwavering in her love, devotion and doing things right the first time so she didn't have to make up for it a second time. My mother loved me even when I was a pickle, a pear, and a banana I was a moody often judgemental person yet she never bowed under my uproars she remained consistent in loving me and letting me find my own way. I am a better person because my mother let me challenge everything she stood for, demanding change that could not be, and did not banish me from my lack of understanding. We cannot change others, but we can change ourselves and in changing or growing in ourselves we see others differently. I had a rare gem in my Mother's love.

 

Love is an amazing everything.

 

Though hard to follow when it feels like freefalling.

 

Chelsea soon you will be a mother, writing that Chelsea/Mother seems so normal and so strange. You have wanted to be a mother since Sacha was born you were such an easy little person. To think I use to let you push Sacha in your doll stroller when you were two and a half years old and he was three weeks old because I trusted you like a little mother. I hope your baby is as loving and as easy as you have been. This I know to be true you will be a wonderful mother, as my mother is.

Happy Mother's Day Mom,

 

Happy Soon to be Mother Chelsea,

 

I am happily sandwiched in the middle because I am a pickle that is fortunate to have two such strong women on either side of me. 

 

 

 

Textiles in Provence at the Brocante

 

 

What can I tell you about love? The way it begins, the way it the journey unfolds, it will take you. Love how it comes how we are often caught without knowing and if we do feel the arrow that pierces through our wall to our heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every Season in Provence

 

When is the best season to come to Provence?

Anytime.

Each season has its own unique beauty and bounty.

These photos were taken in different seasons around where I live.

 

 

 

'tween Winter and Spring.

 

 

 

Autumn 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring

 

 

 

 

 

Summer's Eve

 

 

Late Spring

 

 

 

 

 

Spring

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early spring

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer

Every season in Provence

 

 

Winter.

A blush of snow usually falls in Provence but doesn't stick around long.

 

 

 

 

The season of romance is constant.

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn, near my home.

 

 

 

 

The last wave of winter and a hint that Spring is arriving.

 

 

 

 

Saint Mary Magdalen Basilica

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the church that Chelsea and Martin were married.

Saint Mary Magdalen Basilica is known as the third tomb of Christendom.

The patron Saint (Mary Magdalen) has been declared as an apostle of Divine Mercy.

10 Place de L Hôtel de Ville, 83470 Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume

French Letters

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vine and Flower

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pretty in Provence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sweet Clementine, Holding on to What is True

 

 

 

 

 

18th Century French Plate Designs...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the next few days, I will be posting photos with little text, as I have been these last few days as I need a little break.

The French la Vie groups were amazing, and the next one is coming up in a few weeks, but in the meantime, I need to focus on my friend's apartment that I have been working on in Cassis. 

I will keep posting but wanted you to know that I will be doing so with photos and a few words as to catch up and give myself a little space.

xxx

 

 

 

In My Garden

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

French la Vie

 

The last two weeks of the French la Vie ended today.

So many memorable stories, new friends Carol, Susan and Jane, good belly laughs, treasure hunting, pounds gained in more ways than the weight of antiques in boxes, miles spent in the car with snacks, part of the car flying off,  Gloria and her cat expression, Jennifer's humor, discovering antiques I have never seen before (more about that later)...

A lovely full two weeks I am grateful for every moment that went by without a hitch.

Now back to the house project in Cassis, but first a nap.

xxx

May First, Lily of the Valley

 

 

In France today is a public holiday which celebrates the social and economic achievements of the labor movement.

On May 1st, 1561, King Charles IX of France received a Lily of the Valley (Muguets) as a lucky charm

and thereafter decided to offer one each year to the ladies of the court. From the first year, I arrived in France, to this present day French Husband has given me a brin of Lily of the Valley. He is so French and this American Wife appreciates every bit of it, well maybe not all of his Frenchness.

xxx

 

 

 

 

 

Another Wonderful Day with the French la Vie in Aix in Provence

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile Back to the Baby Watch

Chelsea sent me these photos as the two of them went away for the weekend, their last trip alone before the baby arrives.

34 weeks and counting.

Oh, little Boy Boy, we are so excited to meet you.

 

 

 

 

Come Join Me on the French la Vie

 

These last two weeks and counting have been wonderful, very affirming that my passion for the brocante is something many others share. I love leading the French la Vie, sharing about my life in France and what it is like to live abroad these last thirty years, I love meeting people and hearing their stories and talking about old things and so much more. Gloria, Barbara, Susan, Jennifer, Carol and Jane you have made me laugh and live darn fully these last couple of weeks. Thank you.

Today we went to four brocantes, and we would have gone to more if the time did not run out, why do brocantes have to close around five in the afternoon?

 

 

 

 

 

A must a real must is to go to Avignon and stop by Pascale's universe called VOX POPULI you will not be disappointed, and you most likely will lose your socks.

Tell Pascale you are a friend of mine.

 

 

 

 

Best Brocantes:

 

Villeneuve every Saturday

Carpentras every Sunday

Porte de Vanves in Paris on Saturday mornings

Grimaud by St Tropez on Sunday mornings

Guy Sellam, Odile, and Bleu Berge in Isle sur la Sorgue

 

And of course chez moi xx

 

 

 

 

 

Carpentras

 

 

 

A sign I missed at the brocante! It is the name of our street in Paris!

I know I cannot have it all but I kind of wish I could.

Wink.

 

Exploring Provence with the French la Vie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Exploring Provence with the French la Vie,

Today we went to the market in Lourmarin (every Friday morning) what a glorious spring day! The beginning of the season is magical with the irises waving and the birds singing.

Thank you Monique Alphand, Delphine Decompoix, Nathalie Masset, for opening your homes and shops to us. I am lucky to know you!

We went to lunch in Lauris, la Table de Margot (family owned inside a charming old shop. Aioli every Friday for a classic Provencal meal.

The village next to Lourmarin it has an extraordinary view from the Chateau's park.

If you would like to join me the next French la Vie is in June when the lavender is in full bloom.

 

French la Vie visits the Foraged Home by Joanna

 

 

Bravo Joanna your book is lovely. 

 

"A celebration of both sustainability and design, this book presents beautiful interiors filled with salvaged, recycled, and repurposed objects from around the world.

Artful home interiors are born from curiosity, creativity, and imagination, yet many of us fail to see a potential curtain rod in a bamboo stick or a kitchen counter in an old carpenter’s bench.

Anyone can create a beautiful home without expensive store-bought pieces simply by foraging and salvaging. Discarded objects can be restored, recycled, or repurposed to fill any space with style. Presenting the techniques and philosophies―such as beachcombing, forest hunting, and urban salvaging―of savvy foragers from across the globe, this book showcases how they created comfortable and stylish homes by breathing new life into what most would consider waste.

In an era when sustainability, living off the grid, and reducing our eco-footprint have never been more important or appealing, The Foraged Home will provide guidance and inspiration to those looking to go beyond the world of mass-produced products.

300 color illustrations." via

The Foraged Home

If you would like to preorder it please click below.

The Foraged Home

Joanna Maclennan is a freelance photographer who specializes in interiors. She has contributed photography to books and magazines such as the World of Interiors, Telegraph Magazine, Elle Decoration Country, The New York Times, and Marie Claire.

Oliver Maclennan is a freelance copywriter and editor based in London.

Strawberry without the Shortcake

 

 

Strawberries without the shortcake

Strawberries with cream and a spray of cocoa powder.

Simple   Refreshing    Divine as is.

 

 

 

 

While Scouting for the French la Vie

 

 

While scouting some new addresses for the next French la Vie group ...

My friend Jennifer found something that I did not see even though it was literally right under my nose and

if it were a snake it would have bit me.

An amazing 18th-century pique.

Jennifer said, "I am a fast learner! I have been watching you."

I am going to blindfold her.

 

 

A Touch of Spring for the French la Vie

 

 

Walking around the countryside as Spring unfolds has allowed me to see nature's secrets. The barren branches, the buds bursting, the petals unfolding... I now know where the flowers bloom wildly, and where I can pick from the unattended fig and cherry trees.

Yesterday I went to pick some lilacs for my home and the bedrooms where my guests will be staying. 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I gathered some long branches with tiny white roses.

My home has never had as many bouquets!

 

 

 

 

Darker lilacs grew further up the path so I gathered some of those too for the living room.

On the way back I saw my neighbor, she asked if I was hopping fences to steal flowers. I knew she was teasing, but to be sure I shared my source.

 

 

 

 

Today I saw an older neighbor, her arms overflowed with lilacs, she said, "Up the road, to the left, down the path and across the field there are wild lilacs bushes..."

I guess I am not the only one to find the secrets unfolding in wild places.

Tomorrow I will do the grocery shopping but today my nose is filled with nature's perfume.

One Group of Friends Leave and Another Arrives

 

 

 

Gloria and Barbara both who have been to France numerous times and whom I have come to know over the years, and Jennifer a friend from way back when I lived in the Bay area let me lead them around Provence on the French la Vie. Gloria and Barbara are textile artists so their focus was on such lace, ribbons, fabric, silks, embroidery, more lace, buttons... they managed to fill their suitcases, carry-ons, plus five big boxes between them. Jennifer loves rustic antiques, my mom would be so "jelly", I think Jennifer should be my mom's picker!

At the end of June there is another place available for the French la Vie, the focus will be on visiting brocantes with highlights of the lavender fields and surrounding areas. If you are interested let me know.

We celebrated Easter by having dinner in Cassis. A glorious day with a sweet ending.

Tomorrow they leave and the next group arrives Thursday.

It is a very good thing I LOVE antiquing as I will be doing it for two weeks straight though as you know I can never get enough of it, and even that is an understatement. 

Sacha is home visiting my mom and family, the photos he sent of Easter made me smile all the way down to my toes, HOME!

The traditions my mother so amazingly recreates and elaborates each year are thoughtful, and well loved. There is something to be said about consistency, the carrying on of traditions, of a loving generous matriarch. My mother is a genius, firecracker, creative force and damn awesome. Thank you, Mom, for doing everything that you do. Sacha is soaking it in.

 

Joyful Easter to You and Yours

 

Happy Easter!

 

Who Would be my Mom's Rival at the Brocante

 

Some say this is an old wire salad basket, where the washed salad was put inside then one would take the salad in the basket outside and swoosh it back and forth to dry the wet salad leaves. Others will say this wired basket from the 1900s was used to collect eggs. I am going to say it collects stories and mixes ideas so creativity can flow.

The delicate iron hands are door knockers called, "Fatima's hand", they have gathered their share of salads, eggs, and have seen people come and go. 

Today is day number four of the French la Vie, we have been to two massive antique markets and countless private home brocantes. We were going to go to another antique market this morning, but the group opted to take a day to rest, regroup, pack some of their purchases to be ready for tomorrow's big antique market in Carpentras. When you travel with a small group, and with a local, you have the freedom to change your course, to breath in what you want and sit with what you have. 

 

 

 

We are staying in my home so comfort is reassured and it gives my guests a sense of home since most of them have been

reading my blog we feel like we know one another, and they know every nook and cranny of where I live.

The portrait of Saint Martha taming the Tarrasque (The Tarasque is a fearsome legendary dragon-like mythological hybrid from Provence, in southern France, tamed...)

hangs in the hallway and protects the coming and going between the three floors of my home.

 

 

Jennifer a friend of mine back from when I lived in the Bay Area, came to France to help with the driving and be part of the group, Jennifer is a ball of extraordinary energy she has been like a right arm for me. The Brocante Bug bite her hard in less than one hour at the brocante... Though I wasn't surprised at the brocante bug as it bites nearly everyone I know. Jennifer is attracted to primintive, rustic charming antiques and has the same eye as my mom, they would be rivals at the brocante. 

What type of antiques do you like?

If you ever come to Frence what would you lire to see?

 

 

A Little Bit Pregnant

Seven months.

All good, all happy, all baby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Visiting Private Homes in France with the French la Vie

 

 

 

Along the back roads through Provence,

I am lucky enough that friends I have met through the brocante over these last thirty years invite my groups to come and see their homes. To go beyond the facade by entering into the soulful homes offers such thoughtful generosity into the culture and life of the French. Even if you do not speak the language of the host the spirit moves. I love that I can show those who come and join me a personal one of a kind experience by visiting my friends, to witness the charm of France and be inspired by both.

 

 

 

Such a treat to be welcomed into someone's home and allowed to go through all their collected brocante treasures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had lunch made for us, then tea, and dessert, fresh strawberries served in lemon juice and rum.

 

 

 

 

 

Friendship the true gift in this adventure.

 

French la Vie This Week

 

 

The first of the season, French la Vie's latest group started out yesterday for a week, to be followed by a second group. Gloria, Barbara, Jennifer and I had such fun! Easter week is full of brocantes in villages throughout Provence, this first group wanted to focus on textiles as they are crafters and artists who teach classes on different techniques using textiles. Luck would have it that we have met the mother lode of textiles at every brocante we have encountered. So much so that my eyeballs are swimming in lace.

Lace, ribbons, notions, fabric, quilts... a bonaza of joy.

My longtime friend Jennifer from the Bay area has joined us and I am thrilled to spend these next two weeks together. She is a firecracker, a rock star a genuine teammate! 

 

 

Please follow me on Instagram where I post photos and videos of what we are seeing and doing.

It is so easy to post to my stories on Instagram so if you want to "feel" like you are there, take a peek.

Today we went to Barjac that has a Bi-annual brocante throughout the village. 

 

 

 

 

 

Baby bonnets everywhere I looked. Why is that?

 

 

If you were to come on a French la Vie what would you like to see? What type of experience in Provence would you desire?

I love what Myrna said when she came to France and went to the brocantes with us, she said, "Everyone should see a country through going to brocantes because you are able to see the countryside as you travel to out of the way antique markets, mingle with the locals, have guidance as to what things are and the history reveals the country's past."

 

We also have the most fun getting to know one another, and sharing a part of our lives together which during the week is charged with dosages of beautiful inspiration.

 

 

 

 

Each French la Vie is handcrafted to meet the dreams of each group that comes, no two French la Vie's are the same though each group meets my closest contacts and hopefully wants to explore the brocantes. In June my friend Francoise will lead a group in Bretagne as I cannot join them due to the arrival of a baby brocanteur that is due to come.

 

 

 

 

I am so lucky to be able to show you Provence through the lens of the brocante.

Happy trails ahead.

 

Notre Dame love, faith and the promise of Joy!

 

Yesterday I wanted to share about Yann's marathon which was on Sunday

but the fire at Notre Dame consumed my every thought,

and the marathon trailed far behind in what I wanted to post on my blog.

Though today I saw a connection that seemed to bring a moment of stillness in the sadness of what has happened.

Chelsea (seven months pregnant) and I followed Yann while he ran the marathon in Paris by mapping out his course, calculating where and at what time he would be along the 42 km trail so that we could cheer him on as he ran by.

Yann was running faster than expected which meant we had to move faster between the meeting points if we wanted to see him. Our last meeting point before the finish line was in the Bois de Bologne at the 35 km point. When we arrived Chelsea noticed on the app that we were using that Yann had considerably slowed down, and we began to wonder if he was alright. 

 

 

We stood on stumps to see if we could see him. If you have never been to a marathon let me tell you it is hard to find a runner in a sea of runners but at last, we saw him his hand was on his head as he weaved back and forth mumbling, "I cannot do it, it is too much, I cannot feel my legs, I cannot do it." He looked terrible he had the face of defeat. I started to cry, and cheer him on with a mumble of words and emotions, at the same time as I was uttering my encouragement, I saw Chelsea leaped from the stump and run to her father. She joined him in the race, putting her hand on his back, "Papa you have this, breath, your legs are moving, they are taking you to the finish line, breath, let the pain go, you can do this, focus on your breathing you are going to make it."

It was so beautiful to see Chelsea act without a moment of hesitation, without a moment of reflection to herself. She knew exactly what her father needed and she knew she could help him reach his goal.

 

 

I stood in awe.

And there it was in that moment, encouragement, an extension of oneself to another, love, faith and the promise of joy.

_____

 

Notre Dame love, faith and the promise of Joy!

Notre Dame

 

Utter sadness, beyond scope, a tragic loss. 

Notre Dame survived hundreds of year, touched millions, was a beckon of faith.

More than any other monument Notre Dame is the one I had visited the most.

Countless Masses and prayers, visits with nearly everyone I ever knew who came to Paris with me. 

I wish words were magic, and that this would simply be a bad dream.

Words seem shallow in the depths of this moment.

 

I took the above photo on a rare evening where I waited to be the last person to leave Notre Dame.

 

 

 

 

 

And the grace and courage of the brave 400 hundred plus firefighters.

 

 

 

 

 

Sad day.

 

 

Marathon Man

He did it!

24 miles 42 KM.

He said it felt great until it didn't, the last four miles he could not feel his legs.

But he is ready to do it again.

I posted videos of the day on my Instagram stories and on Facebook. 

Such a highly charged day! I will tell more, but we left the marathon and took a train back home as I have a

Group coming for a French la Vie Journey. Life is never dull.

xxx

Running the Marathon in Paris

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yann is running the marathon in Paris tomorrow (Sunday).

If you would like to cheer him, on and follow his progress you can do so by downloading the app Schneider,

then you will need to look up his name Yann Rolland-Benis.

He starts at 9:00 in the morning (Midnight in California),

Chelsea and I will go to different parts of the course to cheer him on.

Last year Chelsea ran the marathon this year she is doing a marathon due in June.

 

 

 

 

Things to know.

 

 

The Course throughout Paris

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last year's marathon runner.

 

Photo Messages From Sacha

 

Should he shave his mustache? His beard?

I said no so loud I am sure he heard me in Seattle.

In Memory of My Dad on his Birthday

 

Today was the day my dad was born.

Repost from 2008

 

------------

 

 

 

My dad's shop was a milking barn but when I was fourteen he stopped dairy farming and went into motorcycles. He kept farming rice, and went riding on the weekends.

My dad had many different motorcycles, his Harley was his favorite.

Later the shop became a hang out for those who loved to eat, breath and sleep motorcycles. My brothers, cousins, and friends still gather there to shoot the bull, drink beer and occasionally work on their bikes. My dad's spirit is alive and kicking, as his heaven might was here as well.

 

 

 

 

 

In the barn, or some call it the shop, the walls are covered with memorabilia...

Racing tickets, photos, news articles, tags, motorcycles stickers... it is like a gigantic scrapbook dating back to the late sixties.

 

 

 

 

The photos are fading on the walls.

Though if you ask anyone gathered there on a Friday night they will relive the moment as if it were yesterday.

Nothing is forgotten.

Nothing is worth nothing.

Every moment lives.

The Shop is where I feel my dad.

 

 

 

 

 

The pegboard holds some of his tools. There is something to be said for things that remain the same, used, borrowed, shared, but remain the same.

It makes me want to keep things the same at my home so when my children come back it will be familiar, consistent, memorable...

but our home changes every weekend with my buying and selling so I guess keeping anything the same would defeat the memory of how it is.

 

 

 

 

Inside my dad's Harley's side packs were his jacket, vest, chaps.

French Husband and I took them out admired them for a while, shared a story or two, shed a tear, then put them back where they belong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Treasure chest of memories.

Open any drawer,

Each are stacked,

Haphazardly...

Organized...

Purposeful.

Glorious old tools,

to grab and use,

or just hold like a magic wand to take you back.

 

 

 

 

Those stools if they could talk.

If only they could talk.

I remember when they use to be in the house, by the bar that my cousin Doug made.

Later my mom changed the look of the living room and the bar-stools went to The Shop

When years of use rendered holes in the fabric my dad tape them with duck tape.

1972 and still standing strong.

 

 

 

Every Friday night the guys still gather in the barn the shop.

My dad would say it wasn't a place for ladies. Too much B.S.ing, drinking, and hot air.

Sacred ground.

 

 

 

 

 

The walls are lined with trophies, literally to the rafters.

Motorcycle trophies of my dad's and brothers'.

I don't know who has the most, they do, but they don't care about that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos of my brothers, first on bikes, then on motorcycles.

We all started riding young. My brothers would say I didn't ride. I guess the scars I have just mean I fell.

And I am here to tell you

I don't remember the pain of falling, but the fun of riding.

 

 

Stacks of bikes where the cows use to gather in the stalls.

They don't give milk.

Heck no, they just gather dust and sometimes are salvaged for old parts.

 

 

 

 

 

As I took photos my littlest nephew tagged along.

He found a broken trophy top on the ground.

He asked me if he could play with it, "It fell off from up there Aunt Coco. Can I play with it?"

I told him he could have it.

I like to think my dad's spirit knocked it off just for him.

 

 

 

 

He pretended to be racing while he laid on the dusty barn floor.

Happily.

Zroom-Zroom is what he calls motorcycles.

 

 

 

 

The memories of the barn haven't died,

they are simply passed on,

raced out of the barn,

around the bend,

down the lane and take off.

--------

 

Your love is present and I am blessed because of it.

 

Dogs Doing the Brocante

 

On top of the table

at the brocante

two dogs,

not one,

but two dogs sat on top of boxes of old postcards.

The brocante dealer tried to reassure me,

"They're not mean, just playful."

"Lucky for me," I tried to smile, "I do not need any more postcards."

 

 

 

Brocante with dogs. Is someone, somewhere trying to tell me something?

 What would I have done if those little critters were hopping about on a brocante table that had everything I ever had hoped to find?

Good question, and so happy I did not have to confront that issue.

Doggone it!

 

Off the Beaten Path in France, Where is it?

 

I am often asked about France, it makes sense given that I live here and write a blog about it. When I travel to a new place I like to have a few facts about the place in my pocket too. A good restaurant, a must see or do sort of thing, where to stay... a few starting bits so that I have a foot on the ground when I arrive.

The main question I am asked (outside of brocantes and where to stay) is about the secret spots, the hidden places, the off the beaten track... the real "France". I have thought about that question for awhile. Imagining a secret spot, some hideaway, where few tourists have been, a place that captures the French essence. Somewhere were someone could go and feel France embracing them in one juicy double kiss to the cheeks.

  

 

 

The hidden places in France...

Behind the iron gate, inside the kitchen, on the other side of the garden wall, deep down in the wine cellar, inside the turret...

When you are in France it does help to know that wherever you are is most likely knee deep with wonder and awe. With France being the most visited country in the world what secrets remain? In Paris alone, there are over fifty million tourists a year plus...

"6,100 streets in Paris
13,260 crossroads
3,000 km of pavements
33.7 km of Boulevards des Maréchaux around Paris 
4.4 km of Grands Boulevards (between Place de la Madeleine and Place de la Bastille) 
9,884 benches, 107 clocks, and 1,856 bus shelters
109 Wallace drinking fountains 
 2,417 km of sewers..."

Via Paris.FR

 

 

Secret places in France... 

I like grocery stores. And non-cosmopolitan cafes, bakeries that are not famous and sitting at the counter sipping on something, usually orange presse.

Over ten years ago I remember turning on the internet for the first time and instantly typing words such as:

France,

French,

Brocante,

Antiques,

French Antiques,

Undiscovered France,

Touring France...

and not one single thing popped up, instead, a blue screen starred back.

Now anything, everything, whatever we are searching for is ours in seconds.

 

Can there be a secret, a hidden place and off the beaten path?

Who is Norman?

Where can I learn to make Goat cheese in France?

Hot air balloons, boat rides, and charms?

Embracing your inner slowpoke.

Islands in France?

Have you ever been on a train from Menton to Sospel?

Wine tours in Alsace? 

 

 

 

 

How do I answer the question I am so often asked?

The first time I went to France was with my cousin Linda. My cousin was living and working in Germany when I arrived Linda asked, "Do you want to go to Paris? I need to go shopping, and I am thinking of Paris."

So we went to Paris.

Linda shopped. I tagged along.

We didn't see any of the sites other than taking a drink on the Champs Elysee. We walked down backs streets, and into little shops, we never saw one tourist, nor monument. It was magical!

Though Paris was awesome and the train ride was equally mesmerizing. I was hooked.

 

Years later when I married and moved to France, my parents came to visit me. We walked every single day from sun up to sunset. Each morning before heading out I would say, "Let's focus on Pain au Chocolat", or "The perfect rose", or "The best garden bench", and off we would go without any other agenda.

Now, what does this have to do with off the beaten trail and secret spots in France?

Not much.

 

 

 

 

Discovering a place is about going with your shoes off, with your hands ready to reach out. It is about closing your eyes and breathing with your heart. It is about getting lost and finding what you are looking for. Discovering a place is seeing the beauty in the smallest details: By holding beauty because you see it and not because someone has told you where to look. The secret spots, the hidden places, the off the beaten path... they don't exist per se, instead, people what to experience France of their dreams. They want to wake up to what they have read about, dreamed about, they want the Oh la la experience.

 

They need a brocante.

What am I saying. Forget that. 

 

 

Off the Beaten Path places to visit in France:

Some of my favorite people in France...

Vox Populi

Reves d'Argile

Domaine Lucien Jacobs

La Madone

Jouvaud 

Francoise's Pottery

 

What makes a place come alive? The people you meet and the experiences you share.

 

 

 

 

If you want to discover a place, let it soak into to you and take root. Take time to let it absorb you. Expect the unexpected as a gift. If you want to find that secret place, that off the beaten path, where tourist don't go, if you want the place that you dream about be it the cobble stones, the church bells, the croissants with butter filled happiness, the berets, the baguettes, the movie set imagery than come to France with your five senses as your guide. Trust yourself to find what you are looking for follow your insticts, let your desire(s) be your guide.

 

If you want to be the one of few, and not one in thousands then go explore France in the countryside, in the middle of France.

French Countryside 

A house in the French Countryside, we have one for sale....

Castles a dime a dozen

Back roads through France.

 

Or just join me by coming on a journey (French la Vie).

 

 

 

 

 

France. 

I love it.

Add your French favorites in the comment section.

 

 

Mini Tarte Tatins

 

Tarte Tatin is one of my favorite French desserts, it is a classic down to earth recipe when it comes to the array of French desserts, it is not the Marie Antoinette of pastries, instead, it is a French Country type that I can imagine having at a long farm table by an open fire.

The other day I had every intention to make a Tarte Tatin, but time was not on my side and guests where around the corner. So I had to improvise that is what I do since I usually have too many grand ideas and little time to put them in place. Or you can say I am scattered, or as my mother says, "... too many irons in the fire." Personally, I like working under pressure, I like the creative response it musters up in me. 

Hence, Mini Tarte Tatin was born.

 

What you will need:

Apples

Sugar

Vanilla

Butter

Puff pastry

Cupcake tin.

 

 

 

 

Peel, core, and chop four Golden Delicious apples.

Sautee with a fourth of a cup of butter, a third of a cup of sugar and 1 tsp of vanilla (more or less since I never measure and I am guess-estimating.)

Sautee until the apples are golden and the sugar is caramelized.

 

Cut rounds of puff pastry dough, large enough to cover each cupcake tin space.

I made twelve. "As any grocery store has excellent puff pastry dough for under two dollars," as Annie use to say, "it is not worth making it from scratch." Which fits right into Corey Amaro's by the sit of the pants cooking style.

 

 

 

 

 

When the apples are ready add them to the pre-buttered tin.

Of course, you can add cinnamon, walnuts, raisins... but then that is not the classic Tarte Tatin recipe.

 

Then cover them with the puff pastry rounds, tucking the ends in a bit.

Bake at 350 degrees until the tops are golden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they are ready, take them out of the oven and flip them over onto a large platter.

Or gently scoop and flip each one over.

 

 

 

 

For added delight and that wow effect, you can drizzle caramel sauce and serve with ice cream.

 

Serve warm.

 

 

Arriving to Marseille by Train

 

 

The TGV (high-speed train) from Marseille to Paris and visa versa takes three hours it is significantly faster than driving by car or by flying.

I returned home tonight after spending a few days in Paris visiting my dear friend Laura from Colorado and then this weekend with Chelsea. 

Delightful.

Happy.

Even if too short.

 

 

"The train station in Marseille opened on 8 January 1848, on the land of the Saint Charles Cemetery.

The station is perched on top of a small hill and is linked to the city center by a monumental set of stairs.

Since 2001 the TGV has dramatically reduced the travel time between Marseille and Northern France,

traffic has increased from 7.1 million annual passengers in 2000 to 15 million in 2007 and the station is currently the 11th busiest in France."

 

 

 

 

The Entrance to the train station in Marseille.

 

"The station was once a key stage on the sea voyage to Africa, the Middle East, and the Far East, before the popularisation of flying. The station, originally isolated from the city, was equipped with a grand staircase, envisioned by Eugène Senès in 1911 and opened in 1926. It is bordered by statues inspired by all the distant locations to which people sailed from Marseille's port."

 

 

 

A bit of the French countryside. 

If you take the TGV try to have a ticket for the upper deck, the views are spectacular. 

I love to see how each season changes the landscape.

 

 

 

 

Steps leading down to the center of Marseille.

 

 

 

Marseille train station.

 

Beyond the mountains in this photo is Cassis,

to the left, about thirty minutes away is our village,

to the right about a fifteen-minute walk is the port entrance to the Mediterranean sea.

 

Peeks into Beautiful Paris

 

 

Paris is a wonderland this Spring as the pink blooming trees are wearing nature's crown jewel. 

Against the greyish white buildings, the pink is intensified. 

 

 

 

 

The light in Paris, mixed with the stark stone facades and the blooming trees is striking. 

 

 

 

 

 

Where to See The Cherry Blossoms Bloom in Paris

• Notre Dame Cherry Blossom Trees.
• Rue Monge Cherry Blossoms in Bloom.
• Eiffel tower covered in Cherry Blossoms.
• Parc Monceau in Bloom.
• Jardin des Plantes in Bloom.
• Jardin Anne Frank 
• via the response Google gave me

 

 

 

 

Palais Royal

 

 

 

 

A detail of the impressive facade of the Louvre.

 

 

 

 

The most beautiful person in Paris as I see it --- I can say that especially now.

 

 

 

Sweetness of Friendship

 

“A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart,

chaff and grain together,

knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it,

keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.”

George Elliot

 

 

 

Yesterday evening I came to Paris to see my friend Laura who was in Paris from Colorado with her daughter Lily, Ryan her son in law and granddaughter Camille. We met for dinner. 

The last time I saw Laura I was pregnant with Chelsea, Laura met Chelsea for the first time this evening and Chelsea is pregnant with her first child. I met Laura's daughter about eighteen years ago when she was doing a study abroad program in Spain. Lily came and stayed with us over Christmas break for several weeks. Such a delightful evening to meet everyone at once... well nearly everyone.

Laura and I spent time with reminiscing snippets of memories yet most the time fully aware and happy while soaking in each other's company. A well full of understanding the extraordinary circumstances of our meeting one another at the monastery.

As it is in friendship we picked up where we left off. How I wish I did not live so far away.

 

 

We walked around Paris with her two-year-old grandchild Camille who was in a stroller. A doll baby who has a vocabulary of a four-year-old.

Such fun seeing Paris through the eyes of a child.

 

 

 

I love you Laura and will miss you very much xxx

Heading Towards Paris

 

 

 

 

Love as you know has no limits, and where takes us is on a journey to wholeness.

 

I am on the train to Paris... it is such a beautiful day, and as the train whizzes through the countryside spring is there waving its hands.

 

 

The Holy No

Tomorrow I am going to Paris to see a friend I have not seen since I was pregnant with Chelsea.

Laura was one of my closest friends in the monastery. Laura left around the time that I did-

she married, had children, a career, a beautiful life... and tomorrow we will remember and share

our stories of then, in between and now. I can hardly wait to see her. 

Here is a story I posted about Laura last year:

 

 

When I lived in a monastery, the Abbot asked who knew how to cut hair? I raised my hand, I had never cut anyone's hair in my life but being 19, in a monastery, I had to claim amusement where I could.

But before I started my new job as the hairdresser, my friend Laura asked if she could cut Sweet Father Dominique's hair, he was the first guinea pig.

She asked him what type of haircut he wanted, he said a light trim. Slowly, with a gleam in her eye, she buzzed every single hair off his head. Every single hair. He smiled.

Then with the same look in her eye, she asked if she could trim his beard? He said yes. She shaved it off- his beautiful salt and pepper beard, gone! I was aghast, how could she. Shyly Father Dominique asked if she was having fun? Laura giggled, "Yes indeed." I did not understand Laura's humor nor Father Dominique's calmness.

Then she asked him if she could trim his eyebrows! I could not believe my ears I shook my head no. But he agreed, she shaved them too. Father Dominique looked stark naked.

Father Dominique looked in the mirror, then he looked at Laura holding the clippers. He smiled, stood up, shook the hair off, and said, "I need to go now, for I am certain you will ask me to trim my eyelashes, and I fear I would agree."

Sometimes, the holiest thing we can say is no.