Showing posts with label Provence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Provence. Show all posts
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Mas du Rouge
I don't think I have shared my favorite Provencal escape or at least one of my favorites. Here it is, Mas du Rouge. :) http://www.masdurouge.com/environnement.htm
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Lazy lovers or lovers of laziness?
This is going to be about synchronicity - those hints and signs, the mysterious repetitions, the unlooked for messages that sometimes pop up just to mirror our thoughts, desires, dreams. I can't say I'm very good in catching them all but this time I got it.
As each year, as each spring, with the first warm sun rays, I start thinking Provence. No surprise here. It's my personal, my very own heaven. My heart, my dream, my skin and my breath. My never experienced in full love, my never satisfied desire because I always want more of it. And as I was falling again in my Provencal dream, a friend of mine, who lives far from here and from Provence, sent me an e-mail telling me he fell in love with - attention! - Provence and he planted Provencal plants in his garden to remind him of the place. I thought "funny" and went on. On the next day, cleaning my closets (I'm moving), I found a book I had no idea I possessed - Vineyards of South France. Ta-daam. Today, I was driving when I heard this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZVWD8Iy09w .
I know for many the song has nothing to do with the place discussed but I'll tell you how I feel. I'm thinking... sun... an orange, huge, naked sun; impossibly intense blue sky; hot air burning my lungs while my bare feet walk the velvety surface of a grass so green that my eyes hurt; whispering sea down under the rocks, I can catch a glimpse from here; iron gate crying quietly when the steps approach; cedars glued in an eternal hug; shadows dancing under the crowns of centuries old trees, hiding my pebbled terrace from everyone; grey iron chairs, the paint flaking, the patina betraying the age; flowers, waterfalls of flowers flowing from the pots, touching the ground, spreading on the mossy stones... I'm thinking perfume and a white shirt under the trees... A hammock... A panama hat thrown carelessly in the stony fountain... Flowery skirt spread on the grass, a glass of wine spilled in the water, a cup with cherries and the juice on the white shirt... Were we lazy lovers? Did we miss something succumbing to the laziness of a heavy afternoon turning into purple dusk while the valley was shaking under the sounds of music and crowds were fighting to get a spot on a fashionable beach? I don't know. But I'd do it again, same way, same time, no second thoughts, no regrets. Lazy lovers is not that bad actually. Not in Provence of mine. :)
What I'm trying to say is: effort is not always necessary. Being active and proactive is not always best. In our world where everything seems to be so fast that we miss at least half of it, we must sometimes stop. Just halt. Breathe. Smell. Listen. Sense. Let it flow through you, feel it. The life. The love. The whatever makes you smile. Surrender to the timelessness because time was invented by us, humans, in a desperate attempt to categorize something that exists far beyond the limits of our imagination. There is no need to constantly pursue something. Love especially. Be lazy, love it. :)
P.S. Just opened the blog list to check the blogs I follow. Guess what was the first title I saw? "Sweet lovers". :o It's working, I'm telling you. :) We are more powerful than we realize. And I'm glad to know it. I'm actually so grateful to know it! Because it means my next vacation will be right there, above the sea, on the rocks, behind the iron gate. And my garden will be full of friends, flowers, kids, laughter, and who knows...
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Summer heat
I blame the heat for my restlessness these days. I don't see for my eyes are blurry of sunlight, I don't sleep for my heart booms in the silence of the night, and I don't work for my feet linger the sand. Summer is coming, I feel it on my skin. The desire to sense different air is growing. Are you on your way yet? Did you plan your escape from the ordinary? Did you buy an impossibly gorgeous swimsuit? I haven't yet but it's on my list. :)) This summer is going to be our summer - mine and my son's. A luxury, spoiling, rich, and disturbingly beautiful summer.
I am going to get back to the land of lavender and comfy lunches lasting for hours. I want to visit Lourmarin again. http://www.theluberon.com/lourmarin.htm I love its calm and relaxing atmosphere, the secret turns of the narrow streets, the squares occupied by colorful chairs and shiny umbrellas, the gites with their swimming pools and iron wrought beds... But most of all I love the scent of warm earth and the song of the crickets in the nights when the kids are asleep and the wine is still cold.
Then I'll drive back to the Mediterranean which I left two years ago unwillingly. I'll spend sunny afternoons in Gassin and Ramatuelle - two of my favorite spots. http://www.francethisway.com/places/gassin.php The view is breathtaking, the food - impossible to resist. Thankfully, Gassin still remains relatively calm except during the peak month of August. http://www.art-concept.net/gassin/
Further we are heading to the place where I wish I have a house one day - Cassis. http://www.beyond.fr/villages/cassis.html Nudists are still tolerated on the rocks, just so you know. :)) The port is adorable, the heights, where the villas are located, offer some of the best views of Cote d'Azur. Wine is a religion here and has been made for more than fourteen centuries. It certainly leads to long evenings and vivid conversations. The wine carnival is in September, the fishermen's fete is in June. Both are worth seeing. http://www.ot-cassis.com/index_us.php If you can afford it, stay in Chateau de Cassis - a former castle, now 5-star hotel. You will have a blast! http://www.hickerphoto.com/chateau-de-cassis-france-14234-pictures.htm
When I wake up I want to see this.
When we reach the Atlantic ocean one month later, I want to have my evening wine looking at this. :)
A couple of websites for all fellow summer travellers. :)
Gap Adventures has a 15% discount on Europe tours - http://www.gapadventures.com/trips/promotions/yolo-europe-15/?utm_source=btg&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=nl-051310-amazon-yolo-award
Wonderful website with (not only) luxury offers - http://www.luxuryexplorer.com/luxury-hotels.html
Accommodation rentals - http://www.interchalet.co.uk/holiday_homes_cottages.cfm?apartments=cottages&t=Agay
A website full with treasury destinations and clever ideas - http://www.bugbog.com/european_countries/france_travel_guide/cote-dazur-beaches.html
Enjoy the heat! :))
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Portrait of a woman
In a distant corner of the South, on a dusty square, under the scorching afternoon sun, slightly to the right of the cafeteria, is located the bakery. Every morning we join the army bicycling to get their fresh croissants and baguette. The angelic scent is felt from behind the turn and attracts strayed cars from the main road. They make a mini traffic jam in front of Bernadette's window.
Bernadette loves aliens. They are an endless source of stories during the long winter evenings and an opportunity to once again demonstrate she had lived her youth in Paris and was a worldly woman of broad understanding. According to the rumor, she not just lived there but conquered this Paris with a swing. Having not finished school and never touched the door of an university, Bernadette found a job in a patisserie using her "charm". Thanks to the time spent in her grandmother and mother's kitchens, she quickly improved her position both on the ground floor and in the upper apartment of the owner. It happened many years ago. Bernadette states she is sixty-five but the gossipy elders are refusing to take her any younger than seventy. Bernadette ignores them with all the dignity of her mighty stance and frequently pretends she hasn't heard their order.
Bernadette's youth has long been a beloved subject in the village, skillfully fueled by herself after returning from Paris. It happened too soon - only two years after she had left. Although young, the wise Bernadette had quickly realized good men were hard to find in Paris and her invaluable looks and skills would fade while looking for one. The skills she refuses to discuss but puts on a secretive smile.
It seems her husband highly appreciates them for he is gazing at her with adoration and pride. Claude, as his name is, is a tiny old man, a wine maker, earth lover, in a straw Panama hat. He is about three times smaller than his wife but leads a daily war against the gossips in the village to defend her reputation. No evening passes in the cafe when Claude won't stand up for Bernadette's chastity, albeit slightly scratched here and there. He says women like her should be chosen to represent Mariana - this icon of the French femininity. It usually causes mass choking. I can not blame them. No one knew Laetitia Casta at the time but Mariana has never been a piece of heavy machinery.
After coming back to her native village, Bernadette flourished in the warm sun on the heavy, fertile soil. She returned to her roots and opened the bakery on the square in the family house where she was born. Less than a month later Bernadette noticed the prospective bachelor Claude. He had been to war which, in her value system, was the highest form of endurance test - a quality she identified as essential to a future husband. And the moment she had made her choice, she had already conquered him. They married three months later. She bore his children but they flew to the big cities and now come to visit only on weekends and for the summer. Bernadette has not yet forgiven them for making her a grandma too soon.
This femme formidable loves not only newcomers but everything big - houses, cars, hairstyles (all her hair is placed on top of her head), skirts, blouses (they look borrowed from a Velasquez painting), gardens, chairs, beds (on hers three Bernadettes may sleep comfortably) and most of all - bushes.
Bernadette considers growing flowers an absolute waste of time and space. Flowers require permanent care while the only result is tiny colorful spots here and there in the backyard. Bushes are quite a different story. They can not be missed even from afar, bloom longer, want almost no care and protect the yard from the watchful eyes of nosy neighbors. The outcome of this brilliant theory is a backyard resembling the keep of La Rochelle, surrounded by tall fence and high lilacs, cypresses and ten more species of unknown shrubs she gets delivered from Marseille. She is a proud owner of this jungle while Claude is still trying to swallow the ruined crops that couldn't survive the vigorous growth of the bushes.
Bernadette almost squeaks of joy when she sees the bikes. We provide her with sweet time for rest and chat. Although my French is terrible, she keeps asking questions and moves slowly behind the window carefully packing my croissants. It looks like a sacred act of revelation among the baguettes. Feels like a confession - sometimes relieving, often uncomfortable, especially when we touch the topic on the last underwear trends. Bernadette is a woman of fashion but complaints she receives few magazines these days and the postman behaves unforgivably taking her stuff to his wife. She says she has to go to Marseille to buy a proper dress. Very troublesome.
The rumor has it that Bernadette loves big bottles as well. She's been reportedly spotted pouring aromatic wine down her throat and dropping a bit here and there in her dough. It would explain the always cheerful mood of her customers. Providing the villagers with these special goods has turned Bernadette into an icon and main contributor to the village's prosperity. For how would they survive the endless hours in the vineyards without the proper enthusiasm?
That is why everyone felt terribly concerned when in the end of the summer Bernadette went to Marseille for her regular shopping tour and didn't come back on the Sunday evening as she had always done before. The priest prayed; the cafe owner gave away wine; Claude opened and closed the bakery and even made some bread himself; all was done to welcome Bernadette when she would finally come home but she didn't. I waited on the square like everyone else, sipping from my free wine and wondering in the darkness of the fragrant night.
Bernadette loves aliens. They are an endless source of stories during the long winter evenings and an opportunity to once again demonstrate she had lived her youth in Paris and was a worldly woman of broad understanding. According to the rumor, she not just lived there but conquered this Paris with a swing. Having not finished school and never touched the door of an university, Bernadette found a job in a patisserie using her "charm". Thanks to the time spent in her grandmother and mother's kitchens, she quickly improved her position both on the ground floor and in the upper apartment of the owner. It happened many years ago. Bernadette states she is sixty-five but the gossipy elders are refusing to take her any younger than seventy. Bernadette ignores them with all the dignity of her mighty stance and frequently pretends she hasn't heard their order.
Bernadette's youth has long been a beloved subject in the village, skillfully fueled by herself after returning from Paris. It happened too soon - only two years after she had left. Although young, the wise Bernadette had quickly realized good men were hard to find in Paris and her invaluable looks and skills would fade while looking for one. The skills she refuses to discuss but puts on a secretive smile.
It seems her husband highly appreciates them for he is gazing at her with adoration and pride. Claude, as his name is, is a tiny old man, a wine maker, earth lover, in a straw Panama hat. He is about three times smaller than his wife but leads a daily war against the gossips in the village to defend her reputation. No evening passes in the cafe when Claude won't stand up for Bernadette's chastity, albeit slightly scratched here and there. He says women like her should be chosen to represent Mariana - this icon of the French femininity. It usually causes mass choking. I can not blame them. No one knew Laetitia Casta at the time but Mariana has never been a piece of heavy machinery.
After coming back to her native village, Bernadette flourished in the warm sun on the heavy, fertile soil. She returned to her roots and opened the bakery on the square in the family house where she was born. Less than a month later Bernadette noticed the prospective bachelor Claude. He had been to war which, in her value system, was the highest form of endurance test - a quality she identified as essential to a future husband. And the moment she had made her choice, she had already conquered him. They married three months later. She bore his children but they flew to the big cities and now come to visit only on weekends and for the summer. Bernadette has not yet forgiven them for making her a grandma too soon.
This femme formidable loves not only newcomers but everything big - houses, cars, hairstyles (all her hair is placed on top of her head), skirts, blouses (they look borrowed from a Velasquez painting), gardens, chairs, beds (on hers three Bernadettes may sleep comfortably) and most of all - bushes.
Bernadette considers growing flowers an absolute waste of time and space. Flowers require permanent care while the only result is tiny colorful spots here and there in the backyard. Bushes are quite a different story. They can not be missed even from afar, bloom longer, want almost no care and protect the yard from the watchful eyes of nosy neighbors. The outcome of this brilliant theory is a backyard resembling the keep of La Rochelle, surrounded by tall fence and high lilacs, cypresses and ten more species of unknown shrubs she gets delivered from Marseille. She is a proud owner of this jungle while Claude is still trying to swallow the ruined crops that couldn't survive the vigorous growth of the bushes.
Bernadette almost squeaks of joy when she sees the bikes. We provide her with sweet time for rest and chat. Although my French is terrible, she keeps asking questions and moves slowly behind the window carefully packing my croissants. It looks like a sacred act of revelation among the baguettes. Feels like a confession - sometimes relieving, often uncomfortable, especially when we touch the topic on the last underwear trends. Bernadette is a woman of fashion but complaints she receives few magazines these days and the postman behaves unforgivably taking her stuff to his wife. She says she has to go to Marseille to buy a proper dress. Very troublesome.
The rumor has it that Bernadette loves big bottles as well. She's been reportedly spotted pouring aromatic wine down her throat and dropping a bit here and there in her dough. It would explain the always cheerful mood of her customers. Providing the villagers with these special goods has turned Bernadette into an icon and main contributor to the village's prosperity. For how would they survive the endless hours in the vineyards without the proper enthusiasm?
That is why everyone felt terribly concerned when in the end of the summer Bernadette went to Marseille for her regular shopping tour and didn't come back on the Sunday evening as she had always done before. The priest prayed; the cafe owner gave away wine; Claude opened and closed the bakery and even made some bread himself; all was done to welcome Bernadette when she would finally come home but she didn't. I waited on the square like everyone else, sipping from my free wine and wondering in the darkness of the fragrant night.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Some really good links for travellers
Good morning to all the world or Salut tout le monde! :)
I happened to read Independent today for some travel news and found a very helpful article which lists the 50 best travel websites in the world - great stuff! http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/news-and-advice/the-50-best-travel-websites-1644467.html?action=Popup
Then I couldn't help it but visit virtually my all times favourite Provence in her warm heart where the Luberon mountain lays. http://www.theluberon.com/ The website is a very neat and very user friendly way to get an idea about the places, attractions and lifestyle, together with some really impressive accommodation deals. Check it out if you're thinking of a true Provencal vacation.
Finally, the blog that supported the above mentioned website: http://provencediary.typepad.com/. It is idle now but many of the articles are actual and describe the Provence area in a way only an insider who lives there could do.
I don't think I have mentioned a country I've lived at for five years until now. Greece - the core of the mythological tale of ancient Europe. As a person born in the area, I have never been able to ignore the whispers from old times. I highly recommend Greece, and especially the Northern part around Kavala, to those who are seeking emerald waters and still not well known beaches in small fisherman villages. In the mornings you will get your fish straight from the boats, or you can later visit one of the small restaurants across the beach and try out one of the most delicious cousines in the world, in my humble opinion. Here is an article, bright new, on Greece islands: http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/europe/try-some-vintage-greek-islandhopping--jump-aboard-the-first-ferry-out-1752133.html
I happened to read Independent today for some travel news and found a very helpful article which lists the 50 best travel websites in the world - great stuff! http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/news-and-advice/the-50-best-travel-websites-1644467.html?action=Popup
Then I couldn't help it but visit virtually my all times favourite Provence in her warm heart where the Luberon mountain lays. http://www.theluberon.com/ The website is a very neat and very user friendly way to get an idea about the places, attractions and lifestyle, together with some really impressive accommodation deals. Check it out if you're thinking of a true Provencal vacation.
Finally, the blog that supported the above mentioned website: http://provencediary.typepad.com/. It is idle now but many of the articles are actual and describe the Provence area in a way only an insider who lives there could do.
I don't think I have mentioned a country I've lived at for five years until now. Greece - the core of the mythological tale of ancient Europe. As a person born in the area, I have never been able to ignore the whispers from old times. I highly recommend Greece, and especially the Northern part around Kavala, to those who are seeking emerald waters and still not well known beaches in small fisherman villages. In the mornings you will get your fish straight from the boats, or you can later visit one of the small restaurants across the beach and try out one of the most delicious cousines in the world, in my humble opinion. Here is an article, bright new, on Greece islands: http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/europe/try-some-vintage-greek-islandhopping--jump-aboard-the-first-ferry-out-1752133.html
Thursday, July 9, 2009
The hidden jewels to discover
I'm in the mood to cheer up myself and all fellow travellers today. I'd like to share with you the South West corner of France where prices are far from the Provencal, the wine is great, the nature - beautiful, the climate - fantastic, and the sea/ocean is still there. If you are looking for a warm spot in Europe where you can relax to the fullest watching the burds and wild animals in the Pyrenees, or stretching on the beach, then check it out:
Of course, there are many more websites you can find and look at. This is only one of my favourites as I like their approach toward travelling - an old fashioned, slow and delightful way to explore far from the crowds and all inclusive resorts. The departments you may want to look at are Pirenees Orientales (coast on the Mediterranean sea) and Pyrenees Atlantique (coast on the Atlantic ocean). Now, I know many people who prefer the beaches on the Atlantic. However, my personal preferences are towards the more intimate Mediterranean. It is all up to you.
This corner of France, two corners actually, have lots to offer and are still calmer and cheaper than the trendy Provence and Var. You won't be able to completely avoid celebrities, especially if you choose the Atlantic coast, but the number will be significantly lower. Paparazzi falling from the tree tops are not common in difference from the Cote D'Azur. Rental accommodations are at reasonable prices, food is abundant and restaurants are not expensive.
A good website to look at French departments and get an idea where they are located is this one: http://flagspot.net/flags/fr(dep.html . All are clickable which is very helpful and provides good information.
And don't forget to check our travel clipping service at http://www.youruniquevacation.com/ - we can help you save money and stay away from troubles via extensive vacation research!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
A vacation project in progress and sleepelss nights
Well, I'm on my way to finish a business project through the website - a vacation research and planning for an old lady, willing to travel alone... Sounds sad in the beginning but on afterthought, why not? Isn't travelling alone a special, dedicated journey? I can relate to that 100%. My best travels, those that left lasting memories, were the travels I undertook alone. It may be only me, it may be the way I see things where everyone else doesn't see anything, but I loved my travelling alone and was never lonely.
Paris was such a travel - the first time. It was then that I found the bookinists, the artists in Monmartre, the little Moroccan restaurant which I still visit regularly, the Italian pizzeria where the wine gets better each year, the buses to take me to Versaille and Fontainebleau, the squares where the Three Musketeers spent restless nights having duels, the paved narrow streets with wooden doors in stone walls behind which I could clearly hear the whisper of long women dresses...
I think it is the perception. We are all so different. If the person we are travelling with doesn't see the same things or at least similar, the trip can easily turn into a nightmare. A fairy tale lover travelling with a master of logical thinking? I've been there. It doesn't work.
Anyways, I'm happy. The old lady is going to a quiet Provencal mansion where she will enjoy home made food, nice little excursions, village market, some wine tasting, and even sunbathing. All this in the company of a few American ladies around her age. I would have arranged some Spanish time for her too, or Portugal but it's too hot and heavy for her. The pine trees next to the Mediterranean will be better. I did such a good job, very proud of myself :))
And it's already Canada Day, so happy one to all celebrating out there! I'm off to finish the "One Year In Provence" by Peter Mayle. Being on the last few pages, I find "A Good Year" much better although my favourite book related to South France remains "Chocolat" by Joanne Harris. She should have stopped there. "The Lollypop Shoes" was not good enough, in my humble opinion.
Good night to all the world, sleep well and dream of moonwalks, waves, and secret paths in night gardens.
Paris was such a travel - the first time. It was then that I found the bookinists, the artists in Monmartre, the little Moroccan restaurant which I still visit regularly, the Italian pizzeria where the wine gets better each year, the buses to take me to Versaille and Fontainebleau, the squares where the Three Musketeers spent restless nights having duels, the paved narrow streets with wooden doors in stone walls behind which I could clearly hear the whisper of long women dresses...
I think it is the perception. We are all so different. If the person we are travelling with doesn't see the same things or at least similar, the trip can easily turn into a nightmare. A fairy tale lover travelling with a master of logical thinking? I've been there. It doesn't work.
Anyways, I'm happy. The old lady is going to a quiet Provencal mansion where she will enjoy home made food, nice little excursions, village market, some wine tasting, and even sunbathing. All this in the company of a few American ladies around her age. I would have arranged some Spanish time for her too, or Portugal but it's too hot and heavy for her. The pine trees next to the Mediterranean will be better. I did such a good job, very proud of myself :))
And it's already Canada Day, so happy one to all celebrating out there! I'm off to finish the "One Year In Provence" by Peter Mayle. Being on the last few pages, I find "A Good Year" much better although my favourite book related to South France remains "Chocolat" by Joanne Harris. She should have stopped there. "The Lollypop Shoes" was not good enough, in my humble opinion.
Good night to all the world, sleep well and dream of moonwalks, waves, and secret paths in night gardens.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Promoting via today's social media and my memories
Just wanted to share a great meeting I had with the even greater Shesconnected staff. You can see the link to the website on the left panel. It is a place where busy women can connect with other busy women. Very comfy and relaxed environment which I prefer to the more hectic and frantic Facebook or MySpace. Just my preferences, of course.
After I met with these nice and smart people, I couldn't help but think how much promotion has changed since I graduated (I know, I sound like my grandma!). We were wowed by Internet then and now everyone is clicking, chatting, twitting, etc. while walking, running, eating, and so on. While I appreciate the enourmous freedom it gives us, I'm also a bit concerned for human communication. Maybe because I'm a person of the south and what I love are the long suppers, even longer drinks after sunset, and of course - the meaningful or funny conversations. Hopefully, my son will have the chance to learn the same.
Anyways, my point was Shesconnected is a very nice place, and it gives me the opportunity to share without being attacked. :))) Check it out.
And last but not least, have I ever shared how I felt the first time my feet touched the fertile land of Provence? No? Then I'm sharing it now - I was breathless. The air wouldn't leave my lungs and I felt it painful. That's how I remember my Provence - like a sweet pain. Then I threw myself between two rows of lavender and my father took a picture of me. You know, they say a picture takes away your soul. It is true - my soul remained there, in this lavender field forever. My biggest problem - I can't forget it nor can I stop longing for it. Reminds me of a first love. Never consumed, ever desired.
For more lovely pictures of France and all over the world, visit this website (where this photo is taken from): http://www.voyagevirtuel.co.uk/provence-riviera.en.php You can even send any of these photos like a postcard for free.
I'm celebrating this memory today with
Eggplants in tomato sauce
2-3-4 eggplants (choose deep coloured but still hard ones)
1 kg tomatoes (preferably the plum ones)
2-3 cloves of garlic
fresh parsley
all purpose flour
1 teaspoon of sugar
salt
Cut the eggplants into circles half an inch thick. Salt them slightly and roll in flour, they should be well covered. Bring oil (preferably olive oil) to high heat (5-5.5 on my stove) and fry the eggplants. Never deep fry vegetables. Use really high heat and keep the eggplants or any other vegetable in it only for 5-7 minutes. This will keep the vitamins inside and the fattening oil outside. The eggplants are ready when they turn golden, don't wait till they become brown. Meanwhile stew the garlic in some olive oil (4-5 tablespoons), add the grated tomatoes (I use my blender to turn them into puree). Bring to boil. Add the sugar and the salt, wait to boil again and finally add the parsley. Now remove the lid and let it boil at low heat for at least half an hour, it should thicken.
Put the fried eggplants on a big tray and pour the sauce on top of them. let it rest for about an hour. Run to the bakery for some warm baguettes and enjoy with many friends, on an outside table with cold white wine!
After I met with these nice and smart people, I couldn't help but think how much promotion has changed since I graduated (I know, I sound like my grandma!). We were wowed by Internet then and now everyone is clicking, chatting, twitting, etc. while walking, running, eating, and so on. While I appreciate the enourmous freedom it gives us, I'm also a bit concerned for human communication. Maybe because I'm a person of the south and what I love are the long suppers, even longer drinks after sunset, and of course - the meaningful or funny conversations. Hopefully, my son will have the chance to learn the same.
Anyways, my point was Shesconnected is a very nice place, and it gives me the opportunity to share without being attacked. :))) Check it out.
And last but not least, have I ever shared how I felt the first time my feet touched the fertile land of Provence? No? Then I'm sharing it now - I was breathless. The air wouldn't leave my lungs and I felt it painful. That's how I remember my Provence - like a sweet pain. Then I threw myself between two rows of lavender and my father took a picture of me. You know, they say a picture takes away your soul. It is true - my soul remained there, in this lavender field forever. My biggest problem - I can't forget it nor can I stop longing for it. Reminds me of a first love. Never consumed, ever desired.
For more lovely pictures of France and all over the world, visit this website (where this photo is taken from): http://www.voyagevirtuel.co.uk/provence-riviera.en.php You can even send any of these photos like a postcard for free.
I'm celebrating this memory today with
Eggplants in tomato sauce
2-3-4 eggplants (choose deep coloured but still hard ones)
1 kg tomatoes (preferably the plum ones)
2-3 cloves of garlic
fresh parsley
all purpose flour
1 teaspoon of sugar
salt
Cut the eggplants into circles half an inch thick. Salt them slightly and roll in flour, they should be well covered. Bring oil (preferably olive oil) to high heat (5-5.5 on my stove) and fry the eggplants. Never deep fry vegetables. Use really high heat and keep the eggplants or any other vegetable in it only for 5-7 minutes. This will keep the vitamins inside and the fattening oil outside. The eggplants are ready when they turn golden, don't wait till they become brown. Meanwhile stew the garlic in some olive oil (4-5 tablespoons), add the grated tomatoes (I use my blender to turn them into puree). Bring to boil. Add the sugar and the salt, wait to boil again and finally add the parsley. Now remove the lid and let it boil at low heat for at least half an hour, it should thicken.
Put the fried eggplants on a big tray and pour the sauce on top of them. let it rest for about an hour. Run to the bakery for some warm baguettes and enjoy with many friends, on an outside table with cold white wine!
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