I’m back!

Back in Pensacola from my long trip home to France, just a week ago.  Back in front of my computer starting today.  This past week was dedicated to getting the kids ready for school, getting the house back in order (I’m not quite there yet , on all fronts, but great improvements have been accomplished).

14 years ago, as young bride, when I moved to Pensacola, FL, USA, I had fears that the great move would be difficult: going from my parent’s nest to my husband’s home, leaving my friends, giving up my medical career (I went through medical school in France and was ready to start my internship to become an OBGYN), the language barrier (even though I learned english when I was 7, I had never picked up an english book, and was clueless in humor, always laughing at the wrong time in a movie which drove Henry crazy).  I had envisioned some form of cultural shock, I was prepared for a transition period, a time to get accustomed to my new life with a mourning of the old one.  I had it so wrong!  There was no mourning, I embraced my married life, and was as happy as could be, in lala love land.

However, contradicting my predictions it has become harder with time to leave France.  I love Henry even more than I did as a young bride, but I’m now more aware of the “Dolce vita” I have in my birth country.  Life is so sweet in my dear Provence, mind you, my parents work hard at making it a heaven, with the constant flow of family and friends.  I’ve said it before, not only am I returning to the land full of memories of a blessed childhood, but I’m so lucky it’s Aix-en-Provence.  I love everything about it, the place ignites a firework of emotions and feelings: all my senses awaken.  It’s beautiful, everywhere you lay your eyes you are treated to beauty: the landscape is a patchwork of bright flowers (lavender fields, sunflower field, perfect rows of silver olive trees, vineyards…).  It’s not a flat land, there are valleys, mountains, beautiful serpentine little roads bordered by tall old trees, centuries old villages built on cliffs, with always the typical “clocher” of the church dominating the stone houses with their terra cotta roofs.  The food, do I need to explain the joy and “delices” of french food?  It’s gourmet all the time and everywhere, from the little sandwich stand in the street to the fancy restaurant (but especially in my mom’s kitchen), it is a culinary treat, your taste buds will be grateful for all the new flavors (it may cause your scale to frown…).  The sounds, who doesn’t love to hear just the french language spoken all around?  There is always music in the streets, little bands playing.  Of course, the cicadas are as loud as ever.  On the radio, I’ll hear my old favorite tunes and catch up with the latest.  As for the purely physical sense, anyone living in hot steamy Pensacola will appreciate the weather, the cool mornings and evenings (dinning under the stars everyday…), the fresh breeze, the warm temperature during the day, without the humidity.  The feel of clean clothes drying in the sun…ahhh.  This brings me to the olfaction, an other sense enjoying it’s time in Provence.  Lavender is in full bloom in the summer, and grows like dollar weed in our lawns, it’s in all gardens, balconies.  You’ll find and smell the complete bouquet of “herbes de Provence”  (savory, basil, thyme, rosemary…) on your walks.

Words just won’t do justice to my Provence, and even pictures can’t describe the source of the powerful pleasure I have when I return home.  I’m sure, though, that you get an idea of the intensity.  I had all good intentions to keep my blog going, but failed enjoying my vacation completely.  I spend quality time with so many relatives, I indulged in reading novels from my favorite french author by the pool, I did some “lèche vitrine” (literary translation: I did some store front window licking; it’s only an expression), brought back a few treasures in the process.   I had a wonderful time and it was so hard to leave.

However, at home in Pensacola, Henry and Coco were both ecstatic to have us return.  Coco did some serious happy moves, with lots of circus like jumps, maniac running around the yard, and plenty of licking for all of us.

I did have a day of what I call “productive depression” (the 2 other forms of depressions I have experienced are either eat a lot of chocolate, or cry myself in a puddle of water).  A sudden surge of organization took hold of me, and I found myself armed with a tooth brush cleaning my bathroom for a whole day, when I only intended to unpack my suitcase and put away my toiletry.  Henry walked in with a puzzled expression on his face, worried that I must be pregnant (I did go into crazy fits of nesting syndrome during my pregnancies).  I must have looked so frantic, he actually asked the question, braving all rules.  No, it was just a case of “productive depression”, and I felt much better afterwards with the added satisfaction of a perfectly organized and cleaned bathroom.

A week later I have a lot of work ahead of me, lots of images to go through, 2 beautiful weddings, a pregnancy session, a newborn, 2 lovely little girls, and 3 senior sessions waiting to be edited…  A blank schedule, but over 20 clients in line for their session.  Please be patient with me, I vow to pour my heart and soul into my work, but it takes time.

Phew, this was a long post.  Of course, I have to post a couple of pictures.  Not much though, just special memories:

This is Cezanne’s beloved Sainte Victoire, he never tired of painting her. It is a fascinating little mountain, the pride of Aix-en-Provence. This is the West side of it, the sunset projects a wide array of colors on the cliff, making it an ever changing palette, to Cezanne’s delight.

Meals are most important in our french way of living. It’s about the food, the fresh produce grown with passion by the farmer, and the social time. Dinners are hours long affairs. The setting here was a “picnic” on the Durance river, under the stars with only the moon and candles for light, to celebrate one of my relative’s birthday. The table was on a small island of “gallets” (the round stones), and looked nothing like your typical picnic with the beautiful white tablecloth, the antic white linens, the silverware and nice china. My uncle had brought a grill, and we had the most delicious grilled sardines and fish…

Eventually it was became a starry night, but before the night was complete, I took this picture of our little group enjoying their meal.

In my suitcase I carried a precious load of vegetable and strawberry seeds. I’m determined to start a vegetable garden and nurture it to produce some delicious full of flavor fruits like the ones my mother is growing. In fact, everyone was involved in their little eden. This is a pâtisson (of the zucchini family) from my aunt’s garden.

Again, just a simple, but oh so beautiful table setting at some of my parent’s friends. They eat every night like this under their tonnelle, with little lights strung under the arbor, the scent of flowers, and the gravel under their feet. It makes a typical sound when you walk on it, and that too carries a load of memories..