Verdon is Gorges

Okay, so that's a cheesy post title, but you get the idea. This FAIF entry will catch you up on the trip Nathan made to Verdon last week. (That's right, I just assigned us an acronym. Annoying? Perhaps. But as a Purchase faculty member I feel fully entitled--some might even say obligated--to use acronyms as often as possible. The Purchase readers will know what I mean.)

So while the kids and I did what you see above last Saturday, Nathan went along with the students and a few other groups studying at ELFCA--the school where we're teaching here--on a tour of Verdon. As the link explains, this region is a mixture of dramatic cliffs and gorges, mineral-rich milky green lakes, and charming mountain villages. Here's a view of the area on Google maps, for the topographically curious.

He took photos of the trip, beginning with the moment he stepped out our front door. Here's our street at dawn:

The downtown streets of Hyeres are a blend of old and new commerce. Here you get a view of the new through a closed shop window.

And here, the old.

As the tour bus was leaving from ELFCA, the school, Nathan followed the route we take at least twice a week, through downtown Hyeres and out into a more residential section of town.

Here's Ross, arriving via bike.

The bus made a sometimes heart-stopping journey up the hills (the roads have little to no shoulder, and the hair-pin turns of these mountain roads are tight enough to curl your toes) to Lac du Sainte-Croix. Everyone got out and had an opportunity to do a little swimming. Nathan noted that both the limestone cliffs of the area reminded him a little bit of the Four Corners region of the U.S. in that they are sharp and sheer, and rutted with tucked away caves and in-cut divots everywhere. The photos he took put me in mind of parts of the Cascades, though, and the emerald lake water looks strikingly similar to the water in Icicle Canyon, WA.

Here are some of our students at a view point overlooking a river.

The bus stopped and let everyone cross this bridge on foot. Part way across there were several bungee jumpers stationed and prepping a jump. Yikes!

After seeing the cliffs, Nathan and some of the others headed up to the village of Moustiers Sainte-Marie. The town is built nearly into the cliff side, and more of the beautiful green creeks cut through the village.

Nathan had been looking forward to this trip for months, and he came home raving about the beauty of the Verdon.

Goodbye to All This

This is the first day of our last week here in Hyeres, and we're all feeling a bit melancholy about that, even as we look with anticipation toward next week's trip to Paris. So, in light of our upcoming departure, I thought I'd post a quick compilation of some shots that show just a fraction of what we've come to love about Hyeres. What a gift the time here has been, and what a joy to be in this place. Nathan and I have already vowed to come back someday--though next time in the fall or winter, as we imagine this place must be equally beautiful under gray skies. We can't wait to return.

This last photo was taken from our bathroom window just as the sun was coming up, and the birds are swallows. They swoop the space over the roofs of the old village every morning and every evening, and it's always a wonder to watch.

Catching Up...

I'm about three posts behind here, so will try to catch up in the next day or so. The photos in this post are from the trip Nathan and Finn made to Cassis last week. (Note the astounding jump in quality of the images here? That's because Nathan took these. Most of the photos I've posted have been mine--shot with my iPod. Clearly a better camera and a far better photographer make all the difference.)

Above is Finn, master of technology, playing with the iPod on the bus ride.

Below, the town of Cassis.

The harbor.

Nathan says he got lucky with this one, catching this kid just as he did this flip off the dock.

This one's a stunner, no? The group took a boat ride out into the Mediterranean, and, as you can see here, the views were breathtaking.

Back in New York, Ross told us we'd love how clear the waters of the Mediterranean are. "You can read a book through the water," he said. I didn't believe him then, but he was right.

Finn has spotted the beach ahead in this one and is asking to jump ship and swim for shore (where he can build a sand castle).

Here's one of the village, post-boat ride.

Finn has since told us that he's, "done with medieval villages." Yeah. They're so last week.

This is the church in Cassis from the outside, and below, Finn lighting a candle inside the church. (The grandparents will all be pleased to know that we were complimented on Finn's excellent church behavior, as he was reverent and uncharacteristically silent inside the sanctuary... And it only took 4.9 years to achieve that silent reverence in church.)

(I know, he's wearing his cap inside... But did you read the line above: he was quiet.)

This morning as a special treat I invited Finn to come out for morning coffee with me. Nathan and I talked last night and decided that perhaps part of his recent bad behavior has to do with a case of sibling rivalry. His sister has, since her hospitalization especially, received more than her share of our attention, and, as a toddler who now gets into things and spends a good portion of her time expressing her frustration at the toddler-conflict of having a comprehension level that outpaces her verbal ability, she demands our time in a way that Finn no longer does. I'm a first-born as well, and so is Nathan, so we appreciate to a certain extent what Finn's going through. We expect more of him (because he's older), he's obligated to share everything with her, and he often gets in trouble when she's the one screaming ("What did you do to your sister?!"... etc.). So we figure he might need a solo outing with one or the other of us now and then in order to remind him that he is loved and to offer a bit of a "big-boy" reward for all of the responsibilities suddenly foisted upon him with his sister's arrival in our family.

That was a long introduction to our morning, but to get to the point, Finn accompanied me downtown to our favorite brasserie for coffee this morning. I had some reading to do for class, so I told him he'd need to take his book with him and read to himself while I did my work. I had a few misgivings about his ability to let me do my work, but he was fabulous. He drank his limonade quietly and looked at his book and people-watched. Afterward, we stopped by a bookstore at his request and looked for a "monster" book he thought he'd seen in the window last week, then hit the patisserie for morning pastries and the day's baguette. It was a delight to have this little "date" with my son, and given this little bit of privilege he proved himself more than able to live up to my expectations for him. I was so proud of him, and reminded that sometimes we all just like to be reminded that we matter.

As Finn and I walked back to the apartment I told him that this is the start of our last week in Hyeres; Saturday we leave for Paris, then, very shortly, for home. He visibly shivered and said, "Mom, I'm so super excited for Paris!"

I smiled. "Me too," I told him. "I've wanted to see Paris since I was a little girl, and I can't wait."

He squeezed my hand in understanding.

Le Cafe (I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's...)

This morning I slipped away for a couple cups of coffee all by my lonesome. I got a tiny bit of writing done. No one interrupted me. Someone in an apartment down the street was playing the piano quietly.

It was my favorite part of the day.

Take My Picture By the Pool (Or, Saint Tropez, the Beverly Hills of France)

I'm a bit behind on the blog, in part because this week was full and wonderful, but also tiring, and so I've needed every bit of my "down time" to recover from all the fun I've had. And also because my children have been hideous monsters during the last two days, and it's been all I could do to keep us all from strangling each other. Perhaps it's poor form to calls one's children monsters on the Internet, where any old person and his brother can read it (though I think I crossed that bridge in my last post), but I would hardly be presenting our trip honestly if I pretended traveling with the youngsters has been all roses and rainbows. At any rate, I don't know if it's the change in environment and time zone, the absence of any reliable routine, or simply the fact that we're expecting so much of them on a daily basis while we travel (though I suspect it's a combination of all of these factors), but the sweet and adjustable dispositions they exhibited during weeks one and two have evaporated, and all hell seems to occasionally break loose. Yesterday was one of the worst days in my parenting memory. Finn ran away from me at a park and refused to come back home with me. There were at least two full-out screaming-mimi tantrums. And Virginia didn't go to sleep until 10:30 p.m. Whew. So, kind readers, you see why I'm behind in the blog. Happily, today has been much better. We decided to keep the kids "in" over the last three days because of the bad behavior, and perhaps the more relaxed expectations and time to just play with their toys in their space has finally caught up with them and we're back on the right track. And if not, at least it's socially acceptable to begin drinking before noon here in France.

Now, onto catching up on the other adventures we've had this week. On Friday Nathan gave me the gift of the whole day sans les enfants, and so I tagged along with Ross on his trip to Saint Tropez. We caught the bus early and were in Saint Tropez by 9:15 a.m.

Saint Tropez is, like Hyeres, situated with an ancient city in its center, though the culture of the two towns could not be more different. If I had to make a comparison, I'd say Saint Tropez is the Beverly Hills of France. It's chi-chi, the harbor crowded with oversized yachts and their uniformed staffs and stylishly-clad owners. There are swanky bars and restaurants, upscale boutiques, as well as the recognizably elite stores--like Hermes and Chanel. It is all tres chic, and definitely fun for a day trip, though I'm glad we're staying in Hyeres and not Saint Tropez full-time.

Here's a bit of the harbor:

We arrived early enough to catch the fish market, which was packed up entirely by noon. It was bustling, though, at 9:30 in the morning. I even got splashed with a bit of sea-water at one of the fish mongers flopped a fresh catch out on the ice as I passed his stall.

The flower market was just opening as we arrive too, and it was flush with beautiful blooms. Apparently this region is the center of fresh flower production in France.

Our first stop, after coffee, was to the town's citadelle.

As we climbed the hill to the citadelle, we passed this wonderfully gnarled olive tree--one of the oldest in town.

Here's a portion of the ancient ville.

The citadelle is up on a hill overlooking the harbor.

The views, clearly, are stunning.

I was fascinated by the old canons still in place at the citadelle. They are another example of how no detail escapes attention here.

The handles you can see on the canon tops here are in the shape of jumping fish.

And then there was this guy at the "head" of one of the canons. Not a friendly face to encounter.

On the way back down to the village, we spotted this lovely little square. The bougainvillea was in full flower, and in a one of those rare, stunning, look-now-or-you'll-miss-it moments, I caught a woman on a top floor balcony sweeping a shower of purple petals earthward.

This next photo is perhaps less picturesque, but it captures part of the foreign experience I haven't yet covered--Turkish toilets. This one's a 20-cent public bathroom on the marina.

Again, the harbor, looking back toward the village.

The smallest of the boats--though, in my opinion, the prettiest.

Ross and I stopped for lunch at a restaurant he'd found in the old part of the village. I had a delicious salade nicoise that I won't soon forget. Following that, we made our way to le Musee de l'Annonciade, which is currently featuring an exhibit of paintings by Henri Manguin, many of them landscapes of Saint Tropez, where Manguin kept a summer residence for most of his adult life.

Afterward, we killed time waiting for the bus by finding a little beach just off the marina where we could put our feet into the cool water of the Mediterranean. It was the perfect anecdote to the afternoon heat and tired feet.

And to add icing to the cake, the sand of this beach was sparkling with green beach-glass--more of it than I've ever seen on a beach. I pocketed a few pretty pieces to take home as souvenirs.

You can't tell, but my feet are actually under water here. The water was literally crystal clear.