In a departure from my typical posts on arts education advocacy, I’m sharing some observations about a recent trip to Southern France in the spirit of “travel is good for the soul.”
Getting There
Although my younger self was fairly well-traveled with multiple trips overseas and around the world, it has been decades since I last visited Europe. Now, being “quasi-retired,” I have the opportunity to explore beyond U.S. borders.
I convinced my older son Adam to come with me. (Sorry, Tyler, next time I promise.) Adam lives in Newport Beach, CA and is part owner/more than full time manager of Cruisers, a successful sports bar with a Chicago pizza and California beach vibe in Huntington Beach. If you look at my photos on Instagram and Adam’s posted stories, you might think we were on completely different trips. (Hint: his posts are entertaining and way more hip.) 
But it worked. I agreed not to drag him into loads of museums, and he agreed to get on a workable schedule for me that didn’t extend into the wee hours (once we got over jet lag). Also, to Adam’s credit, he is a great driver/navigator, juggling multiple GPS systems, 6-speed manual transmission, endless roundabouts and hairpin turns, as I’m fairly useless on that front. He is also very open, kind and patient (after coffee).
It was good to get away briefly from the angst of American politics and be reminded the world is full of discoverables—people, places, culture, food. We learned of Anthony Bourdain’s death on the first day of the trip. Beyond being saddened for his loss, we were determined to approach every day as he did—with openness and curiosity and the willingness to eat weird things.
Itinerary and Detours
Over our ten-day visit, we traveled over 600 miles through Provence and the Cote d’Azur, most of it on smaller roads through villages and countryside. We began in Marseille with stayovers in Avignon, Aix-en-Provence and the Village of Éze. Along the way, we also spent time in Arles, Ile de la Barthelasse, Séguret, Sablet, Roussillon, Les Baux, Nice, Villefranche-sur-Mer, Monaco and St-Paul-de-Vence.
Lasting Impressions
With very few exceptions, we ate most meals outside. From the crowded and convivial outdoor restaurants in the old city of Aix-en-Provence to the pop-up restaurants on Cours Saleya in Nice (vegetable and flower market by day, craft booths and restaurants by night), eating out of doors was a perfect way to be part of the hum of the place, enjoy food and drink, watch people, and soak in the atmosphere.
There is something magical about sighting a medieval village from afar, perched on a hillside, glowing in the golden light of Southern France. Then traversing the narrow streets and alleyways on foot, with surprising vistas at every turn. It never got old.
The French are a dog-loving people; dogs of all sizes and breeds are everywhere and are welcome in most restaurants. The dogs we met were happy, goofy, sedate, and generally friendly. In contrast, the French people are more like cats—aloof and not entirely trusting. I would trot out my rusty French in asking for information or ordering food. They would roll their eyes and answer in English. Sigh.
Mealtimes are a serious affair in Provence. There is really no such thing as a “fast casual” restaurant, with lighter fare, salads and sandwiches. Lunch menus seem to be the same as dinner, with a starter, appetizer, main dish and dessert. Lots of cheese (burrata was a standout), fish (bonito, seabream, octopus, squid, scallops, anchovy), lamb shank, potatoes all ways, eggplant, olives, tomatoes. Surprisingly, not many green vegies or green of any variety. The food presentation was always photo-worthy. Beautifully composed plates.
The flora of Provence and the Riviera are not dissimilar from Southern California with some notable additions. I was happy to find fields of poppies growing by the roadside, fruit tree orchards, palms, cactus, and jacaranda trees gracing town squares. 
It was the plane trees that truly delighted, as they seemed to be everywhere, lining every country road and byway. Related to the American sycamore tree, it is said they were planted by Napoleon to shade military troop movements. And then there is lavender. The best lavender fields are farther to the north; however, we came across it here and there, with its characteristic scent perfuming the air.
Favorite Pastime
We spent a fair amount of time sitting in cafes, drinking coffee/tea/wine/beer and surveying the scene. We tried to guess the nationality of the people walking by—French, Brits, Germans or Americans were our primary targets. (Didn’t count if you could hear which language they were speaking.) Style of dress, body type, and mannerisms were important clues. Ok, yes, we were stereotyping, but not judging. Sometimes we were confused by a couple with the man looking totally American with baseball cap, shorts and t-shirt with NBA team logo, but the woman being all high-fashion and flair (which we associated with the French). Adam almost always won, though, saying it was the footwear that gave it away. Apparently, European footwear is different than U.S. even though they may be a recognizable brand (e.g., Nike).
Rick Steves for the Win
We used many resources for information about where to stay, eat, go. In addition to my friend Patti’s inspirational recommendations, Rick Steves’ guidebook was the most useful. Especially helpful were the self-guided walking tours of Avignon and Nice, with good points of reference, history and culture, without overload. I credit the guidebook, too, with helping us steer clear of the totally touristy. He warned us that the Village of Éze and nearby Fragonard Perfume Factory have been “discovered” by tour buses. He was right.
Standouts
Wine tasting in the Rhone Valley with Olivier Hickman. It’s all about “terroir.” http://www.wine-uncovered.com
The villages of Séguret with its secret alleyways and hilltop restaurants (Cote Terrasse) and Roussillon with its stunning ochre-cliffs.
Stayovers at Mas de Capelou (renovated farmhouse in Avignon) and Eze Hermitage (boutique hotel high above the Village of Eze where the Alps meet the sea).
Salade Niçoise in Nice on the beachfront Promenade des Anglais.
Bread. A lot of it.
Jaw-dropping views from the Grande Corniche and Moyenne Corniche.
Touring the Riviera Coast by boat to the improbable Bee Gees tune “How Deep is Your Love” with pan pipes.
Place Massena in Nice at night with its run-through fountains and glowing sculptural figures.
Fondation Maeght in St-Paul-de-Vence with a fantastic array of mid-century moderns in a peaceful hilltop retreat– Miro, Chagall, Giacometti, Braque.
Roundabouts are king. Forget about stop lights. Cars are much, much smaller, some no larger than enclosed motorcycles. Driving is not for the timid; it’s fast moving and assertive but not rude.
More bread.
Oh, and Vin Rosé. Toujours. Bien sur.
