Month: March 2014

The Big Book of the Arles market

While trying to describe my blog yesterday evening, I found myself at a loss for words and juggling the air with empty hands as if digging for an answer. “Is it about…Provence?” my interlocutor inquired helpfully but still I hesitated and finally coughed out, “Well, not really in a touristy kind of way.” And then there is today’s post. Pretentious goose.
But there is a reason. For while most of you know that I avoid covering our markets here in fear of the cliché plague, when my Mom was asked recently if she there was any particular subject that I should write on, she didn’t hesitate in requesting, “Food.” Who can blame her? She will take the plane just to see my smiling face and to sit at our table. And she is always, always right.
So, this morning, as the sun was shining brightly and I was feeling sprightly 😉 I decided to set aside what I had prepared to publish. Instead, I grabbed my wee Canon G12, hung it around my neck Cartier-Bresson style and blended into the crowds of Arles’ Saturday market, purportedly the largest in all of Provence.
For as long as anyone can remember, this particular experience has been about equal parts flanerie and the products one purchases to pile into le panier. 
Of course, all of the usual suspects can be found, such as mountains of  glistening olives…
…cheeses of every size shape and date…
…the freshest fruits of the season…
…and treats to make one’s teeth ache…
…such as tarte tatin…
…or a rainbow variety of  spongy macarons.
The eggs, whose centers glow warmer than the sun, are bijous unto themselves.
It can be a lot to take in.
But I am always drawn to the surprises, such as this organic stand tended by Raitetsu Jinno who came to Provence a year and a half ago from Japan. 
His greens are all edible emeralds but my favorite is the Wasabina, which is indeed the leafy equivalent to its sushi condiment counterpart.
I sail past the pricey fish stands to head directly to the producer from nearby Sete. I love that he has razor-clams, bulots, palourdes, spiky sea-urchins and shrimp fresh off the boat from Madagascar…
…but most that his small oysters from Bouzigues are only 3.80€ the dozen! They are Remi’s weekend treat.

I tend to sample the ginger flavored felafel as I walk but today the line was simply too long. Most were waiting to snatch up freshly fried accras, balls of pureed salt cod and pinky-sized crisps of phyllo-wrapped goat cheese.

There are also puffs or oriental pastries…

…delights created by the North African community present in Arles…
…as well as spices from all around the world such as the mélange du Sorcier or “witches mix.” No, I didn’t buy it. Wait, what do you mean by asking such a question?
I admit that there are days when I am simply not up to face the crowds…
…the jostling and old ladies cutting in front of me in line, their caddies rolling over my toes.

No wonder so many stop to have a coffee with a furry friend…

…or taste a sample of local wines…
…ending up at the Bar du Marché, where if you order a bottle of the house wine for 10€, they will choose to look away if you pull out your market goodies to nibble on.

Once restored, the hunt continues.

I have learned the hard way that whatever amount of money I have on me, that is exactly what I will spend.

Best to get the necessities first…

…or they might not make it home at all.

But there are always plenty of options for when I don’t feel like cooking. My favorite stop (and what we will be eating tonight) is the Vietnamese stand for nems to wrap in lettuce and mint. I skip the pizza and the paella sellers but was tempted by this riz forestier, rice topped with peas, mushrooms and smoked porc.
And of course, there is always roast chicken. It is easy to know whose is the best – just look for the longest line! 

But what makes the Arles market so especially interesting is that less than half the vendors are dedicated to food.
The rest sell items that are either traditional to the region…
…steeped in Arles’ own unique heritage…
…or not. 

Without fail, I am drawn to two items – the mini-oliviers in their own clay pots…

…and lavender to transform any home into the essence of Provence. 
I know how very lucky I have been to have so much of muchness, another spring signifier (although Remi keeps reminding me that officially spring is a week away) well within reach. I know that I will miss being able to stroll there and back with such ease – even if I do draggle home under the weight of having bought far too much!
And so, while I really enjoyed myself, it was also an unusual feeling today, taking in this market, my market, like a tourist. I could see that some of my go-to vendors were looking at my snapping with raised eyebrows. “I have a blog, ” I would explain, with some slight embarrassment. “Oh, really,” they would enquire, “what is it about?”
Have a lovely rest of your weekend everyone.

Return to St. Hilaire d’Ozilhan, part two

Each year, the arrival of the Italians surprises me. The student groups, thirty strong, roam and conquer. Boisterous is the word that comes to mind. Physically and orally they take space, calling out to the dogs with arms thrown open wide like happy Pirandellos. For they are joyous in the up-bounce of Youth – that Spring signifier – and so different from the shuffling heads down ados, their French counterparts. 
The current look for the young men is a haircut that is a tragic accident between a mohawk and a flat-top. Their jeans are less baggy and they dance around, shadow-boxing in neon Nike high-tops. The ladies seem to be having a Sophia Loren moment with manes left long and curls thick. They walk forward, heads high, feet planted in hopelessly impractical shearling lined deck shoes. 
The Arena rings with the reverb of their jokes delivered, laughter lauded. Just a bunch of kids with the bounty of everything and the randomness of nihilism inside them, together. They wear it lightly. 
I’ll admit it, in the past they have annoyed me, these giant swarms that don’t part like the seas but move forward like a busy bee storm. Their past is our past and so Arles is taken acquis. But this year, I find myself sipping their energy through a split straw, knowing that in all likelihood I will be elsewhere when next year’s groups come to surprise someone else. And me? I will be wrapping the scarf of quiet around and around and around, while gazing softly at the old and new.

A note to my Australian readers and friends as you are quite numerous. Would you be so kind to take a spare moment to visit my friend Jeanne’s blog, Collage of Life? She is looking for a young man named Tom Healey and is calling for help on the internet. Merci! 
Searching for Tom – please click here.

An almost at the crossroads

Today’s “almost” is hidden away in the French countryside in a corner of the Languedoc not terribly far from Arles and yet completely unknown to us.

So, you know the drill. We put the puppers in the car, rolled down the windows to let in fresh air and off we went. Upon arrival, we were both pleasantly surprised by the charming village and the outer appearance of the house we were to visit. It is pretty, isn’t it?

It has an imposing facade, one a bit of une femme d’un certain age posing to show off her best angle…

…and it looked positively huge…melting into the former barn (see the black line) that was in the process of being renovated into a separate, private property. 

After having met the real estate – who kindly offered that we bring Ben and Kipling along instead of leaving them in the back of the Range Rover and rushing through the visit – we entered into a very large walled in courtyard…with an ailing palm…

…and a mysterious tree that curved around the house protectively like a cupped hand. What a haven this could be! 
There are two options for entering the house, either by the main staircase…
…or by the charming side entrance. We chose the latter.
There is a pretty hall that could have made a nice space for me to work in…

…that leads onto a small guest room and bath that also looks out onto the garden. It could be sweet (Persian carpets, paint and books), save for the spider the size of an electric socket on the wall. He would have to go.
Upstairs is a series of rooms leading off of the main entry hall.  A dining room area…
…looks into the kitchen… *cough, cough*…
…and into a living area with a pretty fireplace…
…that has been bizarrely cut in two to form separate rooms. I would have torn down absolutely all of these walls to create one fantastic, light-filled living space. Amazing. I actually kind of liked the red tomettes but the ensemble (and certainly the wack stone flooring in the dining and kitchen) would look lovely with parquet. Take the far wall back to the stone, add a lime-wash to set, hang a chandelier and wow would it be pretty.

Beh, the two small bedrooms would need more…imagination…
…although Ben seemed to be enjoying himself (only in France would a dog be allowed off-leash during a home visit, right?).

The bathroom would also need a total do-over but all of this stuff is just cosmetic and look at the light!
Plus there is a really expansive…laundry room? Storage space? I have been told (a-hem) that I have a lot of clothes. So this could also be a great dressing…
…and there is also – for the deep of pockets and brave of will – the possibility to do a master suite in the attic. Somehow.

Most of the ground floor is taken up with the world’s biggest garage. Truly perplexing until Remi suggested that they probably used to park tractors in there. Needless to say, it would work for us.

So…there is work but there is also mega potential. It is a huge, practical house with a private garden (big enough to put in a bassin style pool if we someday had the money) and very reasonably priced.
“Uh, huh…” I hear you thinking. Because you are no fool by now, having figured out that I only post about the houses that are definite “no’s.” “What gives?” you might be asking (or with whatever is the current slang for such a question).
At one point during the tour, Kipling started whining (apparently even he found it surprising that dogs were allowed on real estate visits) so I took him outside. After getting comfy on one of the ancient stone benches in the garden, I did a little video.
See below:
Now, did you hear those cars that started rolling by at the end? You can’t tell in the video but they were really, really loud (and don’t judge me because you can’t hear it, judging isn’t attractive, just trust me). And no wonder, as there is nothing separating the house from the road. Nothing. And there is another smaller road on the left hand side as well, basically giving the property a road hug. Do you remember the train track house? 
Well, we asked around and even though it is in the country, this house is on one of the main transport routes of the area, so that means big-wheeler trucks pass too. Apparently, the local citizens have been petitioning to get a new road built that doesn’t cut through the heart of their otherwise charming village but to no avail. So, yes, for once I am not exaggerating. It is “a situation.” And folks, I am not moving out of the heart of Arles where the noise level is slowly driving me gaga minus the Lady to live in the middle of nowhere where the street traffic will finally finish the job. Even the real estate agent (and trust me, in these parts they are not exactly known as bastions of honesty) admitted, “Well, if you are looking for quiet, then this is not the house for you.” Et voooooillaaaa. Dude, is anyone not looking for quiet in the country?
The day was not wasted, however. We rewarded our very patient puppers with a stroll through the surrounding vineyards…

…where we were rewarded ourselves with technicolor harbingers of the everlasting Spring.
Which makes it time for a peppy Frenchy tune that I heard on the amazing fip radio today:
I responded to it because the chorus translates roughly to: “With time, everything will work out.”
And it will. 
We are getting closer. I can feel it.
Would you like some proof?
Click here to read the “news”…

Turn down the sky

I am simply offering up some happy-inducing photos of a walk in the Alpilles today. No diatribe, no philosophy, just a dose of swashbuckling sun that is so bright you might ask to turn down the sky!
What? You are still feeling sleepy and wintery? Really? Ok, here you go…
To listen (and loudly):
Have a great weekend everyone! Hope that there is light and happiness wherever you are…

“How to Stay Sane in a Crazy World” by Sophia Stuart

“Life can be tough and exhausting. Do you know how to rest?” 

It is a good question, one that is at the core of Sophia Stuart’s really phenomenal new book, “How to Stay Sane in a Crazy World.” So, think about it. Do you? I don’t. Not really, I’ll admit it. I even pitter around to keep myself “busy” because I feel guilty about not having a full-time job. So I do much to over-compensate and often feel…tired.

Sophia gave a lot too. She had a truly impressive career in the media that included creating the digital strategy for 300 international brands such as Cosmo and Harper’s Bazaar at Hearst. She travelled the world, stayed in five star-hotels, and worked out of the legendary Carrie Donovan’s former office with a sprawling view high above Midtown Manhattan. But then, she became ill. Three tumors were found and removed from her throat during a five-and-a-half hour surgery. The recovery process was long and grueling.
Already, Sophia had reached outwards from her stressful life by creating teamgloria.com. There, she anonymously wrote through the guise of a character named “gloria,” a trainee angel who “was determined to see the world through rose-colored glasses” and the blog became dedicated to featuring “glorious people, places, and things.” After her surgery, Sophia realized how important the community she had created was to her well-being. As she healed, she also embraced the necessity to make some very important changes to her life and how she lives it. She now resides in Los Angeles and is expanding like a rocket in her initial dream of being a professional author, journalist and photographer.

I found teamgloria right after Hurricane Sandy hit in 2012, having been moved by a comment at Daily Plate of Crazy and I was instantly hooked. I too was drawn to Gloria’s vision of the world as a calming counter-balance to our chaotic society. So it was with great excitement that I read the news that Sophia was planning a book, the very one that she wished that she had by her side during her recovery.
And now that I have it, I can say that it is absolutely beautiful. In my typical way, I nearly wrote that it is beautiful beyond belief, but in fact that is what I love about it so much – it is utterly, utterly believable. There is no hullabaloo. It is presented as a modern day Book of hours and is carved into three sections: “Inspiration” for the morning, “Perspiration” for the working period of the afternoon and for the wind-down of evening, “Exhalation.”

While each chapter is generously doted with Sophia’s glowing images, they are slightly different in their approach but each are truly…helpful. Because we all can use reminders on how to slow down, how to sit back and appreciate…but we don’t need a patronizing or sappy voice coaxing us to do so. Sophia’s advice, while often as simple as “Be silent at sunset” (one of my favorites) or as practical as “Book medical appointments in January”  just…works and is often funny to boot. There are also wonderful lists teaching us how to make a Kindness Kit (who doesn’t need one of those?) and what films, music or books could do the right trick. Just to get us through, gracefully.
I read “How to Stay Sane in a Crazy World” all in one go (and if you buy it, you will want to as well) but now it sits nearby on my desk. It is just such a lovely object in itself that I want to keep it near me (and this, my friends, is why I would say no to the Kindle version). While I am down-loading photos or waiting for a computer program to warm up, I will open it randomly to bask in some seriously charming good will. And as Sophia is one of those brilliant women who are always two steps ahead (which probably explains a little about her previous career), she does something that I have never seen in a book before: she invites you to come to teamgloria.com and become a part of the community. To share your favorite treats and music. She wants to keep the conversation going. And that is a “glorious” thing. I’ll be there.

To read an extract from “How to Stay Sane in a Crazy World” please click: here.
To read more at teamgloria.com, please click: here.
To listen to a delightful and interesting radio interview with Sophia about the book, please click here.
This post is my monthly contribution to the By Invitation Only International Blog Party, hosted by the indomitable Marsha at Splenderosa. The theme for March is “Ways to/ I stay creative.” Even before Sophia’s book had arrived (and trust me, I hunted down our French mail dude until it was in my hot little hands), I knew exactly what my answer would be: “With a little help from my friends.” I have been and am continually so deeply inspired by my friends in the blogging arena and by those that have put their research and gorgeous ideas into a solid form. Both require a generosity of spirit that is really stunning to behold. Sophia’s book is no exception. I recommend it not because I consider her a friend (and yes, there is a little mention to all the new friends that she has found, including one in Arles) but because such a sincere, big-hearted and yet grounded book “to soothe the soul” can do us all good.


Something for Sophia and perhaps gloria too:
I know that my fellow bloggers in By Invitation Only are going to hit this theme out of the park. 
To visit their websites, please start by clicking here.
Thank you for reading…

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