1. Friday Market in Valbonne
Springtime in the South of France brought an abundance of jasmine and house guests. Val arrived in March bringing the sunshine with her. Given that her family's three-year sailing trip in the Caribbean inspired our year here, it seemed right that she came to visit. Ever Friday Valbonne turns into an open air market. The man who sells olives and tomates sechees and a variety of tapenade is quick to give out samples so we linger a while around his stall.
Offerings from the vendors with their portable shops include soap from Marseille in flavors like peppermint and chocolate, earrings made from reeds, and colorful patterned tops like the one modeled by Nancy below.
In April, Nancy flew over (first class, mind you, thanks to Tammy's connections) with Tammy, Loretta and Jo Ann.
With more color and exuberance than a Niki de Saint Phalle sculpture, the women from Rhode Island stormed the Cote d'Azur. "Did they stay up past midnight again?" Luke asked each morning in amazement. Way past midnight... They laughed, they shopped, they made friends wherever they went.
2. Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild
We went the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild, #1 on my friend Michelle's list of must-see places, and now a fixture on mine.
Beatrice de Rothschild had the house built on a promontory that juts out from the corniches along the most dramatic part of the coast between Monaco and Nice. She divorced her husband -- the Russian Ephrussi -- and, at the age of 47, devoted herself to a life of parties, art collecting, horse racing and gambling in the South of France keeping company with her dogs, monkeys and the occasional artist.
In May, Penny, Abby and Robyn came to visit, and so I found myself again enjoying Beatrice's villa and gardens. You could spend hours roaming through the Spanish, Japanese, Florentine and Rose gardens, to name a few.
Nancy and I posed in the Stone Garden with archways and fountains that give the impression of stumbling upon a crumbling tomb in a faraway jungle.
3. Biot
Biot -- pronounced bee-ott and not, as one would expect, bee-oh -- has been around since Roman times, originally as a potter's village and most recently as the place where they make the colorful bubbly glassware.
The French artist Fernand Leger lived in town for a few years and purchased a large tract of land that houses an extensive museum of his work. Val and I took the audio tour and then enjoyed a glass of wine in the Place des Arcades in the center of town.
4. Fragonard Museum in Grasse
Grasse is the perfume capital of the world, or so the city proudly claims. The actual growing and pressing of many of the flowers takes place in Egypt now, but the essence of many of the world's perfumes are still made in Grasse.
One of the oldest perfumeries here, Fragonard, gives free tours of its facilities. Luke and I went for the first time when my parents and Anthony were here in the fall. We learned about the delicate process of extraction, the rarity of a true "nose" and put our own sense of smell to the test. When everyone gave the experience a thumbs up, I added it to The List.
Did I mention that the free tour ends with a visit to the gift shop where you can buy Fragonard's exclusive perfumes, colognes, eau de toilette, and soaps at factory prices? Those pretty bags are not inexpensive.
But judging from the smiles, they're worth the cost. The ladies from Rhode Island picked up a few additional necessities on the way home, bread, dessert and, bien sur, more wine.
5. St. Paul de Vence
"Could we please not go to any more medieval hill towns?" Such was the plea from one of our visiting teenage boys as we descended from yet another of the ancient villages perched high above the valleys and the Mediterranean sea. St. Paul de Vence is my favorite. Yes, it's very touristy (there's a reason for that) and, true, Tourettes sur Loup is more authentic because it feels like real people actually live there, and Eze is a more perfect medieval movie set, and Mougins is smaller and somehow more beautiful but.. St Paul de Vence is still my favorite.
And if it's raining, then you don't have to worry about other tourists. The narrow, windy cobblestone streets host art galleries, shops and an old church built over the ruins of Roman temple dedicated to Mars. Plus St. Paul de Vence is home to what's become our favorite restaurant on the Cote d'Azur since Hannah stumbled upon it more than a decade ago -- La Columbe d'Or.
The Roux family has owned the place since the 1920s and over the years they gathered an impressive art collection from the painters and sculptors who would exchange their art for food and board. The food is delicious, the terrace has tables overlooking the valley below, and, afterwards, you can see the artwork. We're sitting in front of a mural by Leger.
6. Matisse and Picasso Chapels
Picasso and Matisse, rivals, admirers, friends, designed chapels within 30 kilometers of each other. The two masterpieces are more different than they are alike. Matisse's came first, inspired by the nun who was once his muse and then his nurse. His Chapel du Rosaire is first and foremost a place of worship. "Was Matisse religious?" I ask the nun designated to answer questions from the tourists who tromp in to marvel at the stained glass windows and the simple drawings of the Virgin and Child and Stations of the Cross. The nun nods and curls her lips just slightly. "Everyone asked him that question," she says. "Picasso could not bear the fact that Matisse devoted so much effort to something he did not believe. But Matisse used to say, 'When I'm painting, I believe.' "
For some reason, we usually go first to the Matisse chapel and only a day or so later -- if that -- to the Picasso chapel which is no longer referred to as a chapel but as a museum because the chapel was deconsecrated during the French Revolution. Which is probably the only condition under which Picasso would have painted it. He insisted that he didn't decorate a chapel but that he created a "Temple to Peace."
Picasso's War and Peace is dark and crude and feels like you're walking into a cave, especially after the light and tranquility of the Chapel du Rosaire. "I like the Matisse chapel better," is what I hear time and again after taking our guests to both.
But I don't. I love the Matisse chapel. It's beautiful and peaceful and now it makes me think of Jacqui because we went there together and she loved it, too. But Picasso's War and Peace feels like a testament to the good that humankind should do simply because we're able to, despite our lesser instincts. I like the fact that Picasso depicts War as nothing more than a barbaric act of inhumanity and that -- without the benefit of a belief in God -- he depicts Peace as a time when "everything is possible; a child could plough the sea."
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