Gathering breakfast

Every morning in the Cinque Terra I would wake to the sound of venders opening their shops.  Their quite voices would drift up into our open windows on the third floor of our 500 year old building.  As I continued to lay in bed the smell of fresh baked bread and pastries would lure me out of bed and into the streets in search of breakfast.

I loved this ritual of rising early and going out alone into the markets.  I would imagine I was Italian and did this everyday with all the other locals.  Most of the tourists were still tucked in at that hour.

There was this great little bakery, halfway down our street, where all the locals bought their daily bread.  I would practice in my head the italian words to order my bread and pastries.  Inevitably, after ordering my bread I was answered back in english.  Darn, I'd think, how do they know I'm American.  Don't they know I am pretending to be Italian today.

After gathering our bread I'd wind my way through the narrow stone streets in search of fresh fruit.  Here in the Cinque Terra you ask the vendor for your fruit and they pick it out for you.  I made the mistake the first morning of helping myself and was gently scolded.  Tucking my nectarines, apricots and tomatoes into my bag I'd slowly make my way back to our little apartment.

There, the kids would crawl out of bed, to see what delights I arrived with each morning.  Their favorite was the fresh focaccia bread.

I sure loved these slow quite mornings.  I miss them now that we are back in Davis.  This morning I drove to the Coop.  Not quite as satisfying as strolling though winding stone streets pretending you are Italian.

Stumbling Upon Jeanne d'Arc

Road thru the Loire Valley

Leaving the autostrade or freeways behind, we traveled from the Cinque Terra (Italy), through the alps, and into the Loire Valley (France) on small country roads.  Roads leading to historic sites are dotted throughout the countryside.

Loire Valley

Little old French truck

One such road lead us into the town of Domremy-la-Pucelle, where Joan of Arc or Jeanne D'Arc was born.  Of course, we hadn't done our research so we had no idea this little treasure was here.  Matt and I were delighted to find it.  The kids, on the other hand...  well, they didn't even want to get out of the car. Their horrible parents made them get out of the car and endure the story of Jeanne D'Arc.  

Statue near her home

Jeanne D'Arc was a peasant girl born in 1412.  Six hundred years ago!  When she was 12 (Melena is 12!) she had visions telling her to drive the English from France.  As a wee 16 year old, disguised as a page, she lead the French army to victories that would ensure Frances victory over England.  She was captured and tried for heresy, and eventually burned at the stake when she was only 19.

The house were Jeanne D'Arc was born

It was interesting to walk around the town and think of this young woman - girl really - who I had heard of as a kid, and that she wan't just a story, but a real life person in real life history.  We just don't have  that kind of history in the United States, especially on the west coast.

Melena and Keenan near Jeanne D'Arc's home

Street view in Domremy-la-Pucelle 

Domremy-la-Pucelle

Beautiful old stone barn in Domremy-la-Pucelle  

Home in Domremy-la-Pucelle

The Evening of the Fireflies

Not my image

Sitting out on the stone terrace one evening in Santa Fiora (Italy), Keenan says with a little concern in his voice, "Mom, what is that light over there?"  Me, not really paying attention respond, "Just the neighbors house, Keen.  Not to worry."  "No Mom, over t-h-e-r-e in the garden."

Me - who can be easily excitable - jumps up, "Oh my God!!!! Those are fireflies!!!!  I've never seen a firefly before!!!!"  I am dancing around in my skin.  What delight and wonder.  Keenan and I caught one - it was just a wee little non-discript beetle with a glowing behind.  How marvelous.  I wouldn't mind a glowing behind (smiling).

As the evening fell to darkness more fireflies appeared.  It was really quite magical.  It was like the stars had come down to twinkle on the earth and the sky.  We didn't want to go to bed, and after we did go inside, we kept coming out for another peek.

I love this kind of magic!  So simple, so delightful.

Not my image

Santa Fiora

One of the many evening strolls to town.

The little pond at our home.  

Santa Fiora is a tiny medival village in the hills of Tuscany. It is an uphill climb (from our sweet home) though winding narrow stone streets and buildings to reach the piazza or town square. There is a natural quiet here.  The sound of water running is everywhere. A huge aquifer runs throughout and under the village.

Beauty everywhere.

The light was amazing in the evenings.

You also hear bird songs, roosters crows, ringing of church bells and the musical singsong of Italian voices drifting through open windows and outdoor cafes.  Flowers are everywhere - hanging in pots from buildings, in large pots next to doors, bursting from small terraced gardens... It is a beautiful place. Almost hard to believe it is real and not a movie set.

On our way up to the piazza. 

One of my favorite streets we'd pass by everyday.
Often a family
 - grandparents, parents and children -
would be sitting out playing and relaxing.

Strolling back down from town one evening

View of the master bedroom window

The evening we arrived I fell asleep with a smile on my face. All the new sensations flowing over and around me.  Warm breezes gentley moving from one window to the other, lying in fresh luscious linens, the gold light of the moon making shadows on the yellow stucco walls and the wood beamed ceiling, the crickets and cicadas serenading me to sleep, and me, warm and soft in my heart - smiling. Smiling.

View of the master bedroom

Flowers hanging from our Santa Fiora house

The Art of Flirting

Avignon, France

I met a woman - with my eyes only.
She was about 65 years old and beautiful. I was standing in line at a small market in Avignon. She was in front of me. She wore a light blue summer dress that fell just above her knees. Her shoulder bag had caught some of the dress and lifted it up around her thigh. Her thigh was very beautiful - sexy.

A man standing in front of her noticed also. He smiled at her and she returned the smile, but then looked away. He kept watching her, turning his head hoping for another invitation to smile. All the while, I was absorbed in this exchange.

 The children called to me from outside the store and the woman heard my English. She turned and smiled at me - our eyes met. I felt like she was saying, "Watch, this is how it is done. Allow yourself to be admired and graciously acknowledge it." It appeared to me that she invited the man to admire her. She didn't invite more, although she easily could have. She caught my eyes several times and smiled a woman to woman smile. I felt like we saw one another. 

Not my photo - from internet

When the man left the store his eyes followed the woman the entire way. It was not a rude stare, but one to say, I see you and you are beautiful (I'm sure he wouldn't have mined sex either - smile). And even though the woman's eyes did not follow the man out the door, I felt she knew she was being admired and she throughly enjoyed the exchange. She had an energy around her that we were all captivated by, even the store clerk.

I wished, in the brief moment before she got on her bike and rode off with her groceries, that I could have told her how graceful and beautiful she was. I could'nt form the sentences in french quick enough before she left.

I think this moment felt poignant to me because, when I was last in Europe as a 19 year old, I would have been offended by this type of exchange. I would have seen through eyes of righteous indignation. I was 19 and full of young American feminist pride. I didn't know or understand the soft femine power of being a woman. My young feminist power was very male. My attitude has shifted over the years - as it should. I see with so much more softness now, softness for myself and others. I feel as though I am standing more in my center - and it is a lovely place to be.

Me - France 2012

Au Revoir