Controlling the flow

In the winter, I usually retreat within myself, furnish a small, sometimes-comforting, sometimes-claustrophobic room in my head and just crack the door once in a while to check on the world outside, or occasionally to let someone in for a short visit. But for the entire week in France, I threw my doors wide open and let everyone and everything in. It was an amazing sensation of openness and lightness; the week provided more than I ever anticipated--more wonderful food, more relaxation, more excellent company, more beauty--and almost more than I am able to process.

So now that I am back here in the blog-o-sphere, my challenge is to control the flow when relating the experiences to prevent a stream of babel that is so forceful that it is incoherent. It is going to take a little self-discipline and organization of thought to keep the flood gates from bursting so as to communicate the bounty without getting washed away (apologies for all the water metaphors--a week at the sea side will do that to you).

So for this first posting about France, lets just let some photos do the work.

There were the narrow streets of Old Nice to wander down:
while savoring a dish of exquisite ice cream:

from the bottom: chocolate-orange, honey-pine nut, and orange-flower flavors

with excellent company:

Ami and John at a cafe in Antibes

Their was weird local graffiti to puzzle out:

Why is the Vulcan hand weeping?

and the chance to catch the last parade of Carnival and the following fireworks:

Jacques Chirac, the king of the melee, with a golden rugby ball (France is hosting the 2007 Rugby World Cup)

There was waking each morning to this view:
while savoring humble, yet exquisite, apricots for breakfast:

There was a lesson in lemon tart-making:
and many pastries to taste:

From center front: lemon tart with Italian meringue, raspberry gateau, and "pearls of china," a chocolate-orange cake

There were wild freesias to pick and smell:
and sun warmed rocks on which to recline:

There was lunch at a starred Michelin restaurant:
and the hike into the clouds that followed

There was a surreal Menton Lemon Festival to see with the Taj Mahal made of citrus:
and a small lemon orchard with a view of the sea:

Forgive me if I rub it in, but there was much, much, much more.

I'll be processing the experiences and attempting to relate some of the highlights in a coherent fashion here over the next few postings. But for now, I'm going to luxuriate in the fact that Michigan has turned the corner: it was 51 degrees yesterday, the sun was shining, the snow was melting, and while we are sure to have another cold spell before spring, I no longer feel the need to retreat to my little sanctuary. The doors are open again.