by Beth Arnold
An ongoing series about uprooting our lives in America and moving to France. For what's happened before, see previous Jours of Our Lives entries here.
WE LEFT OUR luxurious little nest at Hotel Le Yaca as the real Bravades procession wove through St. Tropez. We could hear the fifes and drums while we loaded the car.
Jim and I were having our Leaving Spat that couples the world over engage in whenever they’re trying to get out of town and go anywhere. This time it took the form of whether Jim should get in touch with a friend of a friend, who happened to live in the area. He didn’t want to do it, which was true to form. He knows that if I think something is important, I’ll do it. And in fact I did (and do) think that making contacts in a foreign country—expanding our circle—is something that’s eminently worthwhile.
I admire this typically male behavior in some regards. It’s pleasing, as well as efficient, to do only what One wants, what One is interested in, and what is of the import to merit One’s attention. But usually for us females (inevitably me), this leads to being knee-deep in One’s manure because it’s in my/our best interest for whatever it is to get done. Another appropriate appellation for wives could be “Pack Mules.” Hee-haw, hee-haw!
We wound through the hills and vineyards to make our way to Aix-en-Provence, which wasn’t technically on our Matisse itinerary—but Henri Matisse greatly admired the painter Paul Cézanne, who hailed from Aix, and had bought one of his paintings when the Matisses could ill afford it. Matisse kept the picture for many years as a touchstone of sorts, a prized possession that he wouldn’t part with, no matter what.
The Basket of Apples by Paul Cézanne. Art Institute of Chicago. (Image via Wikipedia)
Continue reading "Jours of Our Lives: 31) THE LAST SUPPER" »