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    My Little French Diary
    My Little French Diary
    My Little French Diary
    Ebook274 pages2 hours

    My Little French Diary

    By Karen Jeffery

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    About this ebook

    In the chill of winter I dreamt of a sojourn in the south of France. I envisioned it as the ultimate writer's workshop. By May I was at the Cannes Film Festival with my press pass, settling in for a sweet adventure, immersing myself in the language and culture, studying French and enjoying nearly every museum, gallery, and cultural venue along the Côte d'Azur.
    I interviewed film buffs, expats, and yachties, made discoveries and friends, and spent a week with wine-making, paddle-boarding monks on an angelic island. I shot over 2500 photos and tried to keep up with an ambitious blog. The adventure lit my creative fires.
    There were side trips to Italy, and jaunts into Provence, but mostly I lived along the dazzling coastline of the French Riviera. I wish everyone could visit this special part of the globe at some time, to experience its wonders, its charming people, and its enviable lifestyle.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKaren Jeffery
    Release dateSep 18, 2017
    ISBN9781370788613
    My Little French Diary
    Author

    Karen Jeffery

    Friends think of Karen as a travel guru. She thinks of herself as an adventure junkie. Whatever...she loves being on the road, tasting new cultures, new experiences, art, food. As a passionate entrepreneur, she created several businesses on the US mainland, in Hawaii and the South Pacific, for many years brokering private islands and boutique resorts. Today she writes a regular newspaper column, freelances for many companies and publications, and publishes photography books, cookbooks, and novels. Traveling to over 90 islands and 60 countries, she has tales to tell. Stories from magical places pepper her writings, which are autobiographically inspired and informed. Visit One Foot Island and Saturday markets; watch quick-hipped dancers, hear tribal drums, feast on coconut cuisine and taste the essence of island places, island lives. "Life's a trip...so get out there and enjoy this bright, beautiful planet."

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      Book preview

      My Little French Diary - Karen Jeffery

      I arrive on the continent May 12th, following thirty-seven hours of transit from Ashland, Oregon, through Seattle to London. My son Peter, his girlfriend, and her folks meet me at Heathrow International for hugs and a wonderful English pub lunch at Hillside Inn in the countryside of West Sussex. Before long I'm at Gatwick and back on a plane for the quick hour and a half flight to the south of France, anticipation building.

      A German filmmaker sits beside me on the flight. He's angry because he feels the Cannes' Film Festival has become too commercial and is no longer about films and film makers. Today it's all about celebrity, fashion, who's who, and who's wearing what, he complains. Still I go. We must be there where distributors are, where the money is. Two glasses of wine later he admits to a building excitement, smiles broadly, and wishes me an enjoyable festival.

      We land at Nice International just after midnight, and a young French cabbie whisks me off to Villefranche sur Mer, about thirty minutes away, then mounts three flights of stairs with my suitcase and backpack. Reception is closed after 10 pm, and the hotel has emailed me a code for the side door, where just inside I find an envelope with a key to my room. I'm on the top floor, overlooking the bay. Despite thirty-seven hours of intense travel, I'm too excited to sleep. So I unpack, putz around, check wifi. Then I stand on the balcony, enjoying the balmy weather and a full moon hanging over the little port of La Darse. It's magical.

      Eventually I fall off and sleep six solid hours, waking at 9 am to sunshine streaming in my window. It's inviting, exciting, the kind I really need sunscreen for, but I'm already rushing into the day, grabbing un café and a map at the front desk.

      I'm staying at Hotel la Darse, booked late one night a month before, on a whim. It's perfect, with a spacious room, filled with light, and two French doors leading out to a terrace overlooking the marina. Fast wifi. Deep tub. I'm on the top floor, without an elevator, but I don't mind at all. Breakfast is served on a sprawling verandah, overlooking the harbor, and the front desk gals are great tour guides, helping me to orient.

      After my coffee, I walk along the sea, past the Citadel. Built in 1557, it houses the Town Hall (Hôtel de Ville), a convention center, three museums, and an open air theatre, with resplendent gardens wrapping around the entire complex.

      I board the 'petit tren', an open-air tourist trolley that introduces me to various points around town, landing me back at the centre in half an hour. I stroll past the little famous church, designed and painted by Jean Cocteau, then pass the Welcome Hotel and shops and cafés on my way to the curve of beach. The sun is divine.

      The concierge has told me to take a bus (the 81) to the Rothschild Gardens, since it's four plus kilometres over on the Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat  peninsula. But soon I'm at the far end of the beach, so I keep walking. And walking, views seducing me completely.

      Villefanche sur Mer

      Villefranche sur Mer is one of the deepest natural harbors in the Mediterranean, dating back to the 16th century, and host to Russian and American fleets more recently. Built originally for the galleys of the Duke of Savoy, it is now a marina for yachts of all sizes. It is also the site of the oceanographic observatory, Pierre and Marie Curie University of Paris, and the French National Centre for Scientific Research, with its three laboratories (oceanology, cell biology, and marine geoscience) and around 150 personnel. Buildings and structures surrounding the harbor are also included in the French Historic Sites Registry.

      Old Town (vielle ville) features a passage way under the houses on the harbor, which dates back to 1260. It leads to Plage des Marinières, the main beach located at the north end of the bay, and stretches for one kilometer under the track of the railway line linking Nice to Italy.

      Villefranche sur Mer is alive with the colors of its close neighbor, Italy, and shares deep historical, cultural, and gastronomic influences. Welcome to France!

      13 Mai

      Up at the Villa

      I finally make it to the Villa Jardins, Ephrussi de Rothschild, and words can't describe it, so I'll let the photos do the talking:

      Villa Jardins, Ephrussi de Rothschild

      The palace is filled with historic art collections, built during the Belle Ėpoque by and for Russian royalty, Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild. The fantastic gardens wrap around the estate and are separately French, Florentine, Rose, Japanese, Stone, Exotic, Spanish, and Provençal. These especially were dear to the heart of Beatrice. I decide then and there to come back next life as a baroness.

      Instead at five, I take the 81 back to Villefranche, stop in a little shop for a local red wine, brie and baguette, ripe cherries, then walk back downhill to my hotel.

      I'm a bit sunburnt, but what a first day in France! Before long, the full moon is rising over the bay on my sweet little paradise.

      Good night moon.

      14 Mai

      Sur la Plage

      I'm thinking I need a beach day, since I've had two days of travel marathon. I grab a ham sandwich on a half-baguette at a café by the harbor, then make my way to the beach by mid-morning. The sun is hot. Bronze women swim and lie topless, one with an amazing four-color tattoo on her left breast.

      Soon I am hot enough to dare the brisk water and I swim as if to shake off the long flight and a mainland winter. Then sunning, I people-watch and listen to children playing. Parents buy them ice cream. Tourists chat. Lovers kiss. The train sneaks by.

      Strolling over to La Dolce Vita, I buy a chilled rosé and watch little boats in the harbor, returning later to my towel. Just to sit. On a picture perfect day. With nothing to do. Nowhere to be. Bliss.

      The streets are quiet. No cruise ships come on Wednesdays, so many shops and restaurants are closed. Locals hang out, chatting in doorways. The town is like a small village again. Walking back through the old town, I drop into the Chapelle de Saint Pierre des Pêcheurs, a lovely little Romanesque chapel designed and painted by Jean Cocteau. Creative and colorful frescoes cover the walls and ceiling, filling the structure with both spiritual and symbolic meaning.

      I wander the back streets with my camera, then stop for dinner at La Grignotiere, where Brigitte serves me duck breast in fig, julienne of carrot, broccolini and courgette flan, potatoes au gratin, baby tomatoes, and a beautiful glass of red wine.

      15 Mai

      Cannes Film Festival

      I walk to the train station (la gare) and attempt to purchase a ticket in the machine. All of the directions are in French. It won't take paper Euro, won't take my credit card. I have no coins. A kind Frenchman tries to buy my ticket, finally telling me to just get on the train. Il est gratuit aujourd'hui, (it's free today) he says, helping me board.

      It's a quick trip, and I arrive fifty minutes later in Cannes, steering my way thru the press presse. Along the Boulevard Croisette I find the last spot in a café and order coffee and a chocolate croissant. We've got nothing on the French when it comes to either of these.

      I'm watching throngs of people, across the street from the red carpet for the 67th Cannes Film Festival, where Nicole Kidman's Grace of Monaco premieres to bad press. The family hates it. The French hate it. The British press ignores the film altogether and writes instead about Nicole's bad botox job. I shoot a selfie, grinning next to the iconic poster of Marcello Mastriani.

      The tourism office is adjacent to the theatre, so I duck in for maps, info, and a sun visor. Eager to get on with interviews for my column, I pick out a very French-looking woman in the crowd and meet Sally...from Palm Beach, Florida, in town for the day from her Mediterranean cruise. We talk while we walk to the back street, where she searches for consignment shops. She has a vintage shop back home and is keen to check out the local offerings.

      In an attempt to get my phone working, I head back along the crowded Croisette to the Apple store, then I continue interviewing people on the street, collapsing for a late lunch at Farigoulette. A welcomed rosé and salade niçoise. Mais oui.

      Take a look at Cannes!

      On the Street, Sur La Rue 1

      Whereby our roving reporter takes questions to people

      on the street.

      This fearless columnist is traveling in the south of France, visiting Cannes during the famed Film Festival to ask everyday people what they think of the event this year.

      Sally Kimball. Palm Beach, Florida (here on Silver Seas line) Owns a high-end consignment shop - Classic Collections.

      Oh, the Festival is fabulous! It brings an extra level of excitement to an already exciting town. Celebrities. Fashion. Fun. I'm off to Rome during my last week on the cruise, but will remember Cannes.

      Sebastian Dewsbery.

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