New Year's Fete
The month, and the new year, began with shrieks and shouts as we counted down the last seconds of 2010 looking out over the lights of Grasse. We'd spent the evening playing Family Survivor (who knew that LH & kids can each balance a spoon on their nose, or that JL can still hold a yoga pose like nobody's business?) and a couple of rounds of Who Am I.
Who Am I? The game that began so modestly at the Hotel Renee in a random town outside of Prague, circa 1994, has become a New Year's Eve staple, not to mention a favorite for family gatherings and the occasional after-dinner party. Looking at the group above who would guess that one of us "ruined his childhood" and another "didn't wash my hair for a month?"
Monaco's Fete de Noel
After a sad goodbye to JL, Dr & Grls, we spent New Year's Day exploring the Corniches including (yet another) gorgeous medieval town, Eze, and heading to Monaco as the sun set. My impressions of Monte Carlo in the past have been of a somewhat sterile, over-touristed, complicated place to visit. No more.
We caught one of the last days of the principality's Fete de Noel in all its bejeweled and glorious splendor. Merry-go-round, games, crepes of the sweet and savory variety, and a breathtakingly high Ferris Wheel that revealed an exceptional view of the yachts in Monte Carlo's bay.
La Fete de Roi
I'd seen the special cakes in the windows of the patisseries, but would have let the celebration slip away if it weren't for Michelle who invited us to share Gallette de Rois, King's Cake. In most of France, they celebrate Epiphany on January 6 with a cake made up of frangipani, an almond paste, between two layers of pastry. In the south, they celebrate with a fruit-filled brioche. Of course, we had to try both. Each cake is filled with at a small ceramic toy (so you need to chew carefully) and the person who finds this is crowned King, or Queen, for the day. Michelle quickly discovered a tweety bird figurine hidden in her pastry, but her reign didn't last long. Adrienne and I found small white plastic pieces in our pieces and we decided, two against one, that ours were determinative. (Jeff and boys seemed content as long as we let them eat cake.)
Fete de Louise
In the middle of the month we went to London to celebrate Louise's 50th birthday. They rented out a spectacular modern church/cafe in Bloomsbury where we danced and drank and even held hands in a circle (at least some of us did) inside the "sacred space." One highlight was seeing Berit who'd flown in from San Francisco to join the party. Sadly, Aron was too ill to join us, but at least we had 2.5 of the 4 couples who made up our Paris Group.
Jeff missed out on the hand-holding, but he scored points for being one of the few men who boogied with us on the dance floor. When I mentioned this fact during my French lesson, Jean-Francois reacted with great surprise and asked whether this was a common phenomenon that American and English men don't dance. Apparently, French men do.
Fete de St. Blaise
And, finally, the end of the month brought the long-anticpated Fete de St. Blaise in Valbonne.
I expected medieval Valbonne, with its high-end shops and tasteful market, to put on quite the elegant fete. Not quite... as Luke's photos reveal.
Of interest, perhaps, to you Francophiles, is how much the French love (despite claims to hate) U.S. culture. From the Dora the Explorer and New York thriller-themed carnival rides to the floats featuring Star Wars and, yes, the "Smurfs from the USA", even this small village celebrates Americana. One of the few home-grown heros, Lucky Luke, is actually an American cowboy. When we lived in Paris, our French friends thought this was our nickname for Luke since "Lukey Luke" is pronounced the same way.
And what do you call someone from another culture who loves all things American? There's not really an equivalent out there. Hmm...
