Heat wave, hotel, find the TGV, packed in like sardines, sweat.
Arriving by bus to Aix, Mount St. Victoire peeks at me from the bus terminal like an old friend.
Villa in the sun.
hot.
hot.
hot.
My over-indulged American self will be without A/C in the hottest month ever recorded in France!
Hike with the dog in the woods.
Hike to get groceries.
Hike to catch the bus.
Hike into town to wander the streets I loved and knew 3 decades ago.
Hike to meet my glorious neice from Nice, two days of non-stop catching up with some good wine and food. Bliss.
Lay in bed in a pool of sweat.
Sweat more.
Shower often, but mostly sweat.
Teaching from the Villa works! Hallelujah!
Dear 90 year old upstairs neighbor comes to chat each day. I enjoy hearing about her life immensely and she compliments my French. VICTORY!
Family I lived with 35 years ago comes to have carefully orchestrated lunch that I spend the week planning. (trips to seafood guy, trips to bakery, trips to wine shop, trips to market, trips to cheese guy.) Lunch was exhausting, heat-searing temperatures, but conversation lively and successful.
Owners return, and I am off to the next gig!
NANTES - 105 degrees, hottest day in history. Landlord's helper takes my suitcase, buys me a fan, gets me set. I could kiss him!
Teaching is fine, cat is adorable, apartment is cozy, but HOT HOT HOT.
Food.
Wandering medieval streets filled with tourists, cafes, food, restaurants, shops, more food, cafes, some medieval buildings, a cathedral, a fortress, gardens, food!
I am in deep danger when I realize the croissant stand not 10 feet from the front door to my building sells bags of freshly baked croissants 6 for 2 euros 50. Croissants become my main food source. I triumphantly prove that I am not allergic to Wheat, I am only allergic to American Wheat which is soaked in glysophate, a chemical outlawed in France.
I gorge on croissants.
Heavenly buttery wheaty croissants.
Several lovely visits with locals - my landlady has me for an apero and I hold my own in French for the 3 hour conversation!
GO ME.
Lunch with a Japanese woman married to a French man, so many things to talk about, I love hearing about her bi-cultural life. A drink with the "fixer" Hamish who has taken good care of me, outrageous life he has lived.
Riot police.
A riot.
"Where is Steve" banners plastered all over town explain the Nantoises anger at a young man knocked in to the river at a music festival where he has drown.
Tear gas.
People running and screaming.
My eyes and throat burn.
A cloth to the mouth and I run back to my apartment, which is unfortunately in the direction of the violence, since it is in the ancient, pedestrian part of old Nantes.
Safe in the apartment, too full from croissants, tired of the heat, I check prices to fly home early, via New Jersey, so I can see the new grandbaby born two weeks ago, prematurely.
YES, I score an affordable ticket through Rome.
I leave in a few days.
I frantically rearrange my teaching schedule so I won't get fired, ask a few parents to cancel classes, and start packing.
One more bag of croissants to remember my lovely time in France.
and I head home.
Empty seat next to me on the plane home to the States. Blessing.
