Paradise Regained: Revisiting La Colombe d’Or In St.-Paul-de-Vence, France

by Don George on

June 28, 2012; at La Colombe d’Or, St.-Paul-de-Vence:

Conjunction of memory and moment: Nineteen summers ago I sat in this limestone-terraced restaurant in the medieval marvel of St.-Paul-de-Vence, experiencing a time-stopping, life-enlarging afternoon that has become iconic for me. Now I am back, my journal opened to a page as white as the brilliant sunlight that splashes over everything here, and then to a much earlier page, all blue scribbles and a fading blush of Provencal wine.

I am ensconced under a white parasol at a red bouquet-brightened table, looking out on a somnolent scene of green hills and straw-colored houses with terra-cotta roofs.

I have just finished a truffle salad – so redolent I felt transported before taking even a bite – and now I’m sipping a chilled vin rosé, eating buttery bites of crusty-tender baguette, and sliding ineluctably into heaven once again.

I feel like I’m in a Matisse canvas – bright white flagstones and sun umbrellas, green hills, red roofs, blue sea and sky. Then the sun dapples and it’s an Impressionist scene, a Renoir moment as the maitre d’ ceremoniously ushers diners to their tables and they exclaim at seeing old friends – “You’re here! Yes, you too!” – kiss-kiss, take their seats, and sigh. The rosé flows, and time slows.

The waiter appears and – just as nineteen years before – places before me with a flourish an artful platter of grilled sea bream, dauraude royale.

“Bon appétit, monsieur,” he kindly purrs, and pours some more wine.

Around me is a symphony of sounds: the clink of silverware on china, the splash of wine into glasses, the mellifluous laughter and multilingual chatter of diners in summery clothes.

An American family of three sits at the table in front of me, and I lean forward to recommend the truffle salad. They are from Napa Valley, it turns out, an hour’s drive from my home, and we exclaim at the wonder of meeting people so close so far away – and the sheer joy of sharing such a singular place on such a singular day.

The family to my left joins the conversation. They are from Newport Beach, in southern California, and have made the pilgrimage here from a cruise ship docked in Monaco for the day. Soon a woman appears at my shoulder, smiling. “Ojai,” she says, and then from the table behind me, a voice trills, “San Francisco!”We are all caught up in a buoyant bubble of bonté and bonhomie – a celebration of life’s bounty and of our own good fortune to be sharing it on this sun-dappled summer terrace in the middle of one of the most blessed places on Earth.

I take another sip of rosé, savor the perfect daurade with green beans and watch the choreography unfold – a ballet of white-shirted waiters bearing bottles and platters, the maitre d’ surveying the scene, calls for flutes of Champagne here, moans over delicate bowls of luscious red framboises there, kiss-kiss and sit and sigh.

To my right is a vibrant Leger mural, wrought into a section of the terrace’s streetside wall. And as I have just reaffirmed on a rambling restroom detour, the rustic interior rooms here still house an astonishment of modern masterpieces – canvases by Picasso, Dubuffet, Dufy, Miro, Chagall, Picasso, Braque, and Matisse, among many others, all given by the artists when they were still struggling unknowns to the generous and perspicacious owner, the late Paul Roux, in lieu of payment.

This place is an enchanted little world, I think – reluctant to take fork to fish, reluctant even to move, wanting to hold and savor this moment forever.

Awaiting me, I know, is a medieval meander through the cobbled alleys of St.-Paul; an espresso at the Cafe de la Place, where I will watch local gentlemen enact their afternoon rite of pétanque; and then a serene stop at the exquisite Chapelle Folon, which had not even existed nineteen summers before.

Some things change, and some things stay the same.

But for now the world is wondrously reduced to this: the sunlight catching in the canopy of branches above and blessing the hills beyond, the murmuring music of the diners behind me, the perfume of the flowers mingling with the scents of the chef’s seasonings, the exuberant atmosphere of artwork all around, the cobbled stones beneath me, the fish and bread before me, the wine as red as the flowers, the tablecloth as white as the parasol; an ineffable moment of ease and artfulness, a soul-fulfilling scene of life lived to the full.

The platter of now absent daurade has been whisked away and replaced with an ebullient bowl of fulsome framboises. Slowly, dreamily, the California fan club rises, smiles, waves, exchanges cards, prepares to go their own way – and the afternoon shimmers and sighs, as ephemeral and endless as this last glass of rosé I raise in my hand, in toast to the marriage of memory and moment in this blessed land.

London Day Trip: Cambridge

by Sean McLachlan on


London is an amazing city for art, culture, dining and nightlife. It can get a bit overbearing at times, though. If you want to get away from it all you’re in luck. There are plenty of day trips you can do.

One of the best destinations is the university town of Cambridge 60 miles to the north and easily accessible by train or bus. With its Gothic towers, verdant gardens and storied history, it makes for a pleasant change from the big city. The university was founded in the 13th century and is divided into several colleges each with its own character and traditions. In the town itself, winding streets lead to atmospheric pubs, medieval churches, museums and shops. Cambridge is compact and walkable, and it’s easy to get out into the beautiful Cambridgeshire countryside.

Sights
The colleges are one of the main attractions. King’s College is the most spectacular and also one of the oldest, having been founded in 1446 by Henry VI. The chapel with its 16th century stained glass and the “Adoration of the Magi” by Rubens is a memorable sight. Its soaring fan vault ceiling can be seen in this photo by Tom Thai. Another popular college is Trinity College, which has graduated more than 30 Nobel Prize winners. Sir Isaac Newton used to teach there. The 17th century library designed by Sir Christopher Wren is a must for any bibliophile and features an incredible collection of rare manuscripts including an 8th century copy of the Epistles of St. Paul.

The Fitzwilliam Museum is the university’s art museum and has a large collection of European masters, Asian art, a medieval armory, illuminated manuscripts, artifacts from ancient Egypt, plus lots more. An unusual aspect of the displays is that most are simply hanging on the wall or on shelves as if they were the collection of some eccentric and vastly wealthy collector. Unfortunately, someone stumbled on the stairs in 2006 and knocked over a Ming vase. Luckily he was British, so there wasn’t an international incident, but please be careful.

St. Bene’t’s Church is the oldest of Cambridge’s many churches. Much of the original Saxon construction from c. 1020 is still visible, including the tower, which you can climb to get a photogenic view of the town.

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Step into a bit of English and American history at The Eagle, a traditional English pub that started serving in the 15th century and became popular with American aviators from the nearby air base during World War II. Many of them wrote their names on the ceiling of the back room with candles and lighters, and you can still see their burnt scribbles. The Eagle serves the usual pub fare, including real ale and a fine Sunday roast.

The Cambridge Chop House is set in a medieval wine cellar opposite King’s College. You can’t get much more atmospheric than this. The cuisine is a mix of traditional British and Continental favorites.

If English cooking is getting a bit too heavy, try the Rainbow Vegetarian Cafe. This cozy little place serves some of the best vegetarian food in England, literally. It was named cafe of the year by the Vegetarian Society. Besides vegetarian food, it also serves a good variety of vegan and gluten-free choices. Even a dedicated carnivore such as myself can appreciate the friendly service, heaping portions and internationally inspired dishes.

Outings
If you walk through town you’ll be sure to get bushwhacked by touts hustling boat rides. Boats generally hold 3-4 people and the punter stands on the stern with a long pole and pushes along the shallow River Cam. You can hire someone to punt for you or do it yourself. Either way it’s a serene way to spend a lazy afternoon.

My personal favorite outing from Cambridge is the walk along the River Cam to Grantchester. It’s only 2 kilometers (1.2 miles) and you can do it on foot or by punting. Grantchester is a little cluster of thatched roof houses and a famous tea garden called The Orchard. Lawn chairs, a sparkling river and high tea make this one of the most relaxing spots in England. I simply can’t sink into one of those chairs without drifting off to sleep. The Orchard was founded in 1897 and soon became a favorite for university students. Before World War I it was the meeting place for the “Neo-Pagans,” a literary group that included Virginia Woolf and Rupert Brooke. Check out the free Rupert Brooke Museum at The Orchard to learn more about the life of one of England’s most cherished early 20th century poets.

Looking for more London day trips? Check out my articles on Oxford, Anglesey Abbey, Bletchley Park, Bath, St. Albans and Canterbury.

London Sets 21 Guinness World Records In Six Months

by Libby Zay on
Officials from the Guinness World Records have been hard at work in London over the past six months. More than 16,000 new record holders have been named as people from across the city attempt to beat more than 20 records. They’ve done a lot of strange things in order to take over the ranks, including the longest curtsey relay in five minutes, the fastest hula-hooping marathon, the longest line of fanfare trumpeters and more. Today, over 100 soldiers completed the 21st and final challenge: the record for “most people dipping egg soldiers simultaneously.”

A traditional British breakfast, egg soldiers are soft-boiled eggs eaten by dipping buttered strips of toast into the runny yolk. The soldiers pictured above lined up and ate their egg soldiers on command in a carefully orchestrated event. The attempt to beat such a large number of records was launched by London & Partners, the promotional organization for the city, in order to celebrate London’s people, attractions, universities, businesses, sports and transport. A full list of records that have been broken over the past six months in London is available after the jump.

1. Longest marathon hugging welcoming the world to London
2. Longest curtsey relay in five minutes
3. Most entrants in an egg hunt competition
4. Largest reading lesson (multiple venues)
5. Most expensive chocolate egg sold at auction (non-jeweled)
6. Largest archaeological archive – Museum of London
7. Tallest costume to complete a marathon
8. Fastest marathon hula-hooping
9. Fastest marathon on stilts (7-9 were just three of the 29 Guinness World Records set at the 2012 Virgin London Marathon)
10. First recorded Mr. Punch puppet show – to commemorate 350 years since Mr. Punch first appeared at London’s Covent Garden
11. Most Portrayed human literary Character In Film & TV – Sherlock Holmes
12. Longest line of fanfare trumpeters
13. Oldest continually working film studio – Ealing Studios
14. Most people throwing mortar boards simultaneously – celebrating international students in London
15. Longest club DJ session relay – 100 DJs at Ministry of Sound for London based Charity OneLife
16. Largest parade of boats – as part of the Thames Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Pageant
17. Largest treasure hunt game celebrating The Mayor’s Team London Ambassadors
18. First underground railway system – to TFL and London Underground
19. Largest composite photograph exhibition by artist Clare Newton
20. Oldest bicycle shop – established in 1860 in Sutton, London
21. Most people dipping egg soldiers simultaneously

Four Myths about Paris and Parisians

by David Farley on
The founder of Lonely Planet guidebooks espouses a philosophy that through travel, the world can become a more peaceful place. It’s true. I can no longer count the times stereotypes have been completely shattered when I go to a new country. The Polish, for example, don’t need ten people and a ladder to screw in a light bulb. Likewise, the Mexicans aren’t shiftless, sombrero-wearers who use donkeys to get from one bar to the next. Other times, however, a stereotype can confirm a preconceived image we had before going to a country: many Italians really do speak with their hands. And it’s a fact that Germans drink a lot of beer. Similarly, the first time I was in Paris, in the early-’90s, I remember seeing designer-clad women walking down the Champs Elysees holding perfectly groomed toy poodles on a leash. I left France, having only spent 24 hours there with this image remaining in my mind.

Ten years later, I moved to Paris. After scraping for as much information as I could about my adopted new home, I kept coming across similar themes: Parisians are rude, they won’t help you if you’re American and/or speak butchered French, etc. But after a few weeks in Paris it was clear to me: we’ve been misinformed about the City of Light and its inhabitants. Here’s how:

Myth #1: Parisians are rude.
Verdict: False.

The number of friendly people I encountered in the first two weeks of living in Paris far outweighs the number of uncouth. Big cities are chaotic places and no matter where you are you’re going to encounter rudeness. San Francisco and Prague, two cities that I spent a combined seven years in, are far more hostile places than Paris.

If you come to France and don’t make an attempt to speak the language, you’re going to get treated poorly. But if receiving courtesy and respect from your savage hosts hovers on the lower rungs of your priority totem pole, the exchange I witnessed one day between a wealthy, middle-aged American couple and a butcher will not surprise you. The American man asked the butcher if he spoke English – in English! No Parlez-vous Anglais? I enjoyed watching the butcher stare at them for a long five seconds before slowly shaking his head no, almost as if he were shaming them. In response, the American man just screamed his order at the butcher in English. Somehow this worked. He got his sausage. But the damage was done: the butcher probably went home that night and strangled his effigy of Ronald Reagan again. If you went around the United States and asked people in Erdu if they spoke Erdu, how many responses would you get that differ from the exchange above? Answer: unless you hit the jackpot and find an Erdu speaker, exactly zero. Peace through tourism will not come unless tourists stop thinking that they only need to show up in a country and everything else will be handed to them on a silver platter (after, of course, screaming in your native language.)

Myth#2: If you don’t speak perfect French or have a perfect French accent, the Parisians will pretend to not understand you.

Verdict: False.

I took a one-week intensive course before moving to Paris. I don’t speak perfectly. In fact, I can barely order my food in a restaurant. Still, no one feigned ignorance, pretending that I’m actually speaking Swiss German. Take an encounter I had in a department store one day translated into English:

Me: Excuse me, have you stuff for the skin of the face that I wear to clean at the morning and at the night?

Shop Assistant: Face soap?

Me: Yes!

Shop Assistant: Right this way, sir.

Myth #3: The French hate Americans.

Verdict: False

The French seem intrinsically opposed to any foreign policy the Americans initiate. Even September 11 was debated here. A book published in France while I was living there argued that the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington, D.C., were just a hoax by the Bush administration. As silly as it may sound, it was a best seller. After hearing about this I imagined having this kind of encounter in Paris:

French Person: Where do you come from?

Me: America

French Person: Oh, so you are Americain. You probably zink zat zee September 11 really happened, don’t you? DON’T YOU?!

The French and Americans are both extremely proud and nationalistic. We may butt heads occasionally, but that doesn’t mean they don’t like us or will treat you worse just because of the name of the country on your passport. (But if you tell them one more time, “We saved your ass in the war,” things may take a turn for the worse.)

When I first arrived to live in Paris and people would ask where I was from, my response was Prague (since I had just lived there for a few years and am still familiar with the language-besides who in France is really going to test me). But the response I got every time was, “oh…” So I changed my answer to San Francisco and it often led to a warm smile and further conversation (not necessarily about San Francisco).

Myth #4: The French carry baguettes.

Verdict: True

On the cover of my French grammar book, there’s a photo of a woman carrying a bundle of baguettes. Its kitschy appeal made me laugh. Then I went to France and saw people actually walking around with baguettes, as if they were contractually obligated. The French love their bread – and so do I. It’s great. But it’s more than just tasty. It really is a symbol of French pride. During a French presidential campaign while I was in there, far-right candidate Jean Marie Le Pen, laid down a bouquet of flowers in front of a statue of Joan of Arc in Paris. His supporters were behind him holding up baguettes to show their pride and solidarity. This made me wonder: what food item would Americans hold up? Hot Dogs? Apple Pies? Cans of Coca Cola?

Whatever the case, on your next trip to Paris try to let go of any preconceived notions of the locals and you just might learn something new.

Because as my good friend, Andrew Evans, National Geographic’s Digital Nomad, recently said: “A good traveler is one who constantly discovers that he or she is wrong about a given destination.”

[photo via Flickr, courtesy of Antoaneta]

Where To Have A Weird Dining Experience In Denver, Colorado

by Jessica Festa on

What do you get when you mix a 300-pound gorilla, giant skulls, a 30-foot waterfall, battling pirates, ’50s-era carnival games, taxidermy, flamethrowers, a mariachi band and mediocre Mexican food? The Denver area’s kitschiest restaurant, Casa Bonita.

Once you enter, you’ll go through an amusement park-style line system. For some reason, the restaurant thought it would be a good idea to have guests order their food at the door, before waiting in line with a tray for food and then a separate line for a drink. Oddly, you still get an assigned waitress once you sit, to do what I’m not sure. The host will put a flag on your table, and when you need something you raise it.

While the food and service are subpar, what you really go for is the atmosphere. A mix of tacky play land, circus performance and “Alice in Wonderland” surreality, you’ll be wondering what could possibly come next as you pick at your overpriced burrito. During my meal, I saw two pirates ferociously fight over a princess, Olympic-skilled divers flipping into an indoor lagoon, fire eating dancers and a giant ape chasing a safari guide with a butterfly net. I was even serenaded by a Mariachi band. Moreover, I had a caricature drawn, was hit by a pink light saber, wandered over an indoor wooden bridge, got lost in a bubblegum pink tea room and stared out a submarine window at plastic fish bobbing in a milky man-made ocean. Basically, it’s a lot of fun, and worth a few hours just for the shock value. Just make sure to bring your inner child, and a fully charged camera.