Maurice and I have made a quick trip into Paris for one week, mostly for work, and I was just in time for the famous sales called Soldes.

All the stores in Paris have sales twice a year. I’m not much of a shopper and I hate crowds but I got up early and went into two stores and found something to buy.

After taking photos for the catelogue for Lollipops-shoes and bags-I strolled down one of my favorite streets nearby, rue Montorgueil. It’s a cobble stoned, mostly pedestrian area, full of interesting and fun shops.

Look at this-you can grow lavender in Paris. This was up in a window on the second story.

This is a very well known shop on rue Montorguile. They have gourmet food to take home for meals and some of the best pastry I have ever had.

A couple of years ago the Queen of England made a visit to this street and stopped at Stoher’s. The owner had postcards made of the occasion-mostly of him with the Queen. I asked him if she was nice, he replied that she was, very nice.

I think this cake in the window is made of eclairs. Wouldn’t you love to have a piece?

Can you think of anything more romantic than crusing down the Seine past the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame while sipping a glass of Champagne? I don’t think so. Maurice and I took the Champagne Cruise offered by the wine tasting specialists at O Chateau in Paris.

We got to sit in a private room at the front of the boat and three different kinds of champagne were offered, all from small houses in the Champagne region of France. The first the best known variety, a Champagne Brut, the second a rose champagne and the third, a sweeter one called a demi-sec.

They were all delicious and Olivier, the owner of O Chateau, was there to tell us as much as we wanted to know about each one. It was a glorious way to spend a sunny evening in Paris.

The link to their site: O Chateau

Does anyone know one? Or maybe a Pied Piper sort of guy with a magic flute to lead them all out of Provence?
For a brief moment there I thought there might possible be fewer snails than last year and that they would slowly disappear. Apparantly they were just waiting for dryer weather and higher temperatures to make their assault. They aren’t the giant gray snails-although we have those too-but a small white one. Maurice says you can’t fight nature, which is what he has to say about flies as well, so why do I even go out to pick them off my plants? But I think that for every five or ten pounds of snails I take off my plants, that is saving some munching on them. Who knows? I picked off over four dozen from our cabana. I’ve gotten so I can spot a snail on a plant at a long distance. There are so many of them, we are talking thousands, that I only look for them on plants in my yard now that I can see when sitting on our porch. I can’t stand to see the flower on a lavender plant dropping with the weight of a snail. At least snails are easier to pick than weeds. I promise not to write about the infestation again. It’s not very exciting like a visit to a village market although it is part of my life in Provence.

For the last few years I have had pain in my hip tied into my back and all the changes that go on there with, sigh, aging. I was sort of hoping for a magic injection to make the pain disappear but the two doctors I’ve seen keep wanting me to see a kinesthiologist, where massages, acupressure and other methods are used. I’ve never had this done before so it was all new to me. I’ve been to two, one in Paris and one here in Provence and, as I like to do, I got to thinking about the differences between them.
The one in Paris is a very nice guy. When I’m in his office it is almost a spiritual experience. Between the first set of appointments and my second with him, he changed offices. The new one is absolutely beautiful with high ceilings, fireplaces, gleaming wooden floors and decorative molding everywhere. He said it-the office- came to them like a gift from heaven, he actually said it fell from heaven. I wish my French were good enough to get into a discussion on how this happened. He speaks English but not a lot. When I come in for an appointment, I lie on my back on the massage table and he stands at my feet. He places his fingers on my feet, bows his head, closes his eyes and, he says, feels for pulses. To me this seems almost magical if not spiritual. The first time he did this he asked me about pain in my shoulder. Once after massaging one hip he felt the pulses in my feet and said the other hip was “jealous” and he had to work on it some. He’s a very quiet, gentle man and he and his wife do volunter work in Nepal with homeless children. There should be some sort of eastern chant being played in his office(there is silence) while incense burns and maybe he should wear a robe. Often after leaving an appointment with him I feel like I have been to church, sort of clean and refreshed.

The new kine, this one near our home here in Provence, is a totally different experience. His office is very minimal and business like with industrial carpet on the floors. and he often has two patients at once, me getting a massage while the other is either doing some sort of exercising or soaking. The first time he opened the door to greet me I was surprised as he was very handsome. I could picture him on a motorbike with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like some French movie star. He is very young and lively, full of fun and there is always music (pop music, not rap, thank God) going on in the background to which he sings, hums or whistles while massaging my back. The first appointment he told me that he didn’t speak a word of English, none at all, but he does. He does the massage totally different from the man in Paris, all on my back not at all on my hip, finding two very sore and tender areas that he presses. He told me that my back muscles were stronger than my stomach muscles which led to my back curving as it does and thus the pain and that I should work on stomach exercises, something that I really hate to do. He teases me a lot, doing a mock head banging on the wall when I told him I was from Texas the home of Bush. He thinks Sarkosy and Bush are “la meme”, the same. When I didn’t understand something he was telling me I told him that I would have my husband call him and he said, “Oh, your Papa?” which I think was teasing for my actions. I slapped him on the arm when he said this. He asked me if I had been drinking when I dropped something twice. I often feel a little woosy when the massage is over for some reason. Anyway, I’m not sure how much his massage is doing although it feels really good as does the ten minutes with a hot pack on my back at the end. When I leave his office it is like I’ve spent some time with my son and his friends at a bar. But, sad to say, I don’t think either of them has managed to stop the hip pain.

After a hard morning of shopping at the market in Lourmarin, we found a table in the shade, ordered a cool drink and watched life float by.

Maurice ordered a beer. I had my usual Diet Coke.

I’ve never gone here but doesn’t it look like a great place? Maybe someday.

The view across the way from us. I was, of course, looking for Peter Mayle but didn’t see him.

A typical scene-someone carrying bread with the tip broken off and eaten.

I love to go to the market at Lourmarin here in Provence. It’s on Friday and I think it’s one of the best markets around. It doesn’t hurt that Lourmarin is an almost perfect village full of an air of well being. Here are a couple of photos of what is offered there.

There are always rows of this colorful scented soap for sale. As you can see, you place your choices in a basket as you decide what you want.

A line of colorful hats. You can squish them up into any shape and stick them in a suitcase with no damage. A friend of mine bought one to wear when painting her water colors outside. I think they are a little too big to do gardening in.

I would have bought a bouquet of these if we weren’t going out of town soon.

Wouldn’t these make a great gift for someone? I love the little cigale on the top.

I think I want this. It came in lots of colors. Wouldn’t it look great on a table?