Sunday: one of my favorite days

Sunday Sept. 9

Sitting inside bustling café after walking through market at Isle Sur La Sorgue—wonderful!! Bought lots of stuff—so full of character. Always the challenge to find authentic French merchandise. No ‘Made in China’ or ‘Made in India.’ Talk to the person at the booth. First the nougat maker. He was an adorable gray haired man with glasses who made me try probably 6 varieties of nougat. I bought a bunch to bring home. “The greatest nougat in the world!” And a linen table runner from a cool woman probably about my age who sews them all. She gave me great washing instructions.

Sat for a while in that fantastic bistro and had cappuccinos and a mimosa—which they did not understand. I had to say “champagne with a little splash of orange juice” then I enjoyed watching the waitress explain it to the oh-so-gorgeous young man behind the bar. At one point one of the male waiters passed my waitress and gave her an affectionate little slap on her rear which I found totally endearing. Moments like that help me to place myself right. there.  Are they lovers? What happens in this café after hours? Do they sip appertifs and laugh? Do they stroll back to his flat and stay up all night? Do they part ways for now because this is only a budding romance? We sat for a long time in this place tucked in the winding streets of this dreamy riverfront town. It’s definitely a “is this place for real?” spot in the world.

We stopped by one more stand and bought some olives, ratatouille tapenade, some sundried tomatoes, and a baguette to snack on as we made our way to the coast. No way could we have done all this driving without the iphone. We passed more villages perched on distant hillsides, more industrial hubs, and then, like any roadtrip to the beach, it started to feel a little saltier. The first glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea, captured in a picture through our windshield. Cagnes Sur Mer very much resembles Ft. Lauderdale. The wide walking/biking path following the shore, a busy street, then the water-facing cafes, shops, and hotels. Christine was exhausted from the early morning and the drive so while she caught a nap I crossed the street and pulled up a cushy chair at the beach club associated with our hotel and enjoyed a delicious margareeeta (as pronounced by the gentlemen taking care of me)! Perpared and served by some beautifully tanned, blue-eyed Frenchman. Yes, I have noticed the men here in France more than the women, but don’t misunderstand. I appreciate beautiful people of all sexes. I expect to be in awe of the French females once I hit Paris.

We enjoyed a simple dinner of starters on the upstairs terrace of our hotel restaurant and retired to the room where I fell asleep to Christine booking our train to Paris and a documentary on American hip hop artists on the TV.