last day in aix-en-provence, bastille day!

The time in Aix ended in full spirits. The night before Bastille Day the ARcher invited me to a party. It was outside of town, he brought a friend that roams the skies for a living. As we circled the roundabut in order to meet the party's invitee we parked at the Lamborghini (high end car dealership) texting and chatting we met the 4th member of our party. I am the only female and younger by some 10+ years. We follow the driver through uphill windy streets and then through a forest of sorts. Dark, green, tall trees surrround us, unpaved roads as well. At a certain point we must descent to enter the propery that's perched on a huge lot. All you see is night skies and an almost full moon. The house is non descript to the right of the parking lot but paralled its the grand pool. Huge! Overpowering it all. Around it all types of cool kids, young attractive, mix of income levels. Nevertheless, the night was a bit lackluster, my party was definite older and we did not mix well with the the crowd. Except for the owner. A few glasses of Rose, a few inedible (shrimp) macarrons and we were in search of a decent meal. At the forsaken time of midnight, it could be a challenge anywere in France. Yet Aix with its college kids and constant infux of tourists has adapted and has a sort of diner concept. Of course diner is less burgers and frieds and more steak frites. We end the night in full spirits and a plan to have a BBQ/Picnic at the Pilots home for Bastille Day is formulized.

The archer with his many facets of present life and unpredictability, often does not keep his word and is a bit unreliable. Before 10am we loose him, he says due to a lost dog which turns out to be his ex's dog. As they day progresses, late morning becomes early afternoon on a holiday which means limited accessiblity to everything. In haste I procur some ingredients to make the usual dishes by memory. I love cooking but my lack of practice makes it difficult for me to allocate much thought process to a last minute meal. Picked up in a scooter with groceries and Tiger means I revert to my embrace the moment and don't hink of worst case scenarios. The home is a villa perfect scenario for a leisure day. 2 pools, fields of lavender, grass, amazingly high ceilings, room upon room, the most perfect kitchen and that's just the ground floor. as I ddin't get to visit upstairs. It is quite the ideal villa for an event :)

The guest began arriving around 6pm and it was a successful night of social gathering and meeting of different worlds. A Dutch family visiting a recently transplanted friend, a Canadian couple on their honeymoon, old and new convening to share in this holiday of liberty and social revolution.

The next morning I leave to Toulon and then to Paris, long day awaits.

encounters

As intersections of life converge, it is often the people that populate our roads that fuel the direction of our paths. In minor ways, as it can only be found in brief/short lived encounters. In this moment, as the three weeks in aix dwindle to about a week I have just become barely able to get some sleep, reduced limited nap times, acquaint myself with short cuts and lastly delicious foods.

The Archer that conducts business underneath my flat has been my source of introduction to the community. He is my 411 for all purposes, sometimes he is insightful sometimes I get the manly "Je ne se pas". I am pleased with either as his energy is often in good spirits and pleasant. On Monday, as I descend the streets to Cours Mirabeau for my doze of gelato, I spotted him across the way and he was with children, obviously his. Introductions were made to a boy and a girl ages from 8-10? Shy, unruly dirty blond hair. They lacked the looks I was expecting from an ex-football(soccer) player which I would assume had hitched a Barbie doll of sorts. Nevertheless, we chatted and continued on our paths.

The following day we shared a few moments in my flat, while his phone charged and he shared the unspoken. Marital status. Never married, lived together for 14 years, she was now 35! and seeking some freedom. Understandable for a woman that became involved in her early twenties. It is understood that humans need the time to explore all their options, as it pertains to careers and lovers. Going through that process of failure allows us to understand from the void, not only the needs but the likes and dislikes that construct our selection process. So indeed as it would be expected from my experience, roaming various beds is part of the course. Sadly, our friend is a bit older and did all the exploitations needed and is in the mist of heartbreak and eventual healing. Bonne chance! its a long road a head for him and a short road ahead of any romantic expectations.

It has been quite interesting meeting various French men, even-though dear shopkeeper is Belge, that all have been married/divorced. As a late bloomer and still unmarried I find it disappointing that every man I meet is in this marital status. It started from the Malibu Hippie in LA, to the Photographer newly transplanted to NYC, to the Wine keeper in Nolita to dear shopkeeper in Aix en Provence. I am not sure if it is the passion in their hearts and romantic ....that allows their hearts to fall in/out of love or simply the demographics of our age group. As time and years continue their downward spiral I am convinced it is the simplicity of ageism and life's course of growth and evolution.

I of course find myself single and more often that not rejected and disappointed in love and men. I belief circumstances of nurture vs nature have some implications. In my first installment of documenting my life, titled "Dysfunctional" I would eventually address the nurture vs nature ideology. In the second one, titled "Perpetually Single/Alone" I will depict the dating debacle that has been since I separated at 24 from my high school boyfriend of 9 years. While this is titled "Wanderlust" we will touch briefly on the ingredients that support the foundations of one's life as a way that beyond dysfunctionally and circumstances we are able to succeed/grow and become our dreams' desire.

Slightly side tracked, the hopes that the Latin fortune teller said I would immediately meet a lover are no longer existent based on various signs from the shopkeeper and aforementioned details. Nevertheless, it is at this point in my life that I am less expectant of men and more expectant with creating and designing. The former which often has been in my thoughts, is taking a back seat to laying the foundation of an early retirement.

Nevertheless, I am ecstatic to have a gentle caring new friend that invites me to St. Tropez for the weekend. So, love life is non-existent but I get to spend a weekend in St. Tropez overlooking the sea just a few meters away. Not bad for a week in Aix!

weather man

As my plans to go to St. Tropez crumble, I find myself in an usual place of solitude and peace. I find great solace in these times of empowerement so I venture to some of the recommended places Mado on Friday night, the place is buzzing and the maitre d' comments "what a shame you are alone?" Its great that I can be dinning alone and so I get sat inside in an equally lonesome room. The design is modern elaborate, a big of glam and passazz. They have sushi "bar" eventhough there's nowhere to sit. So I take a place by the window overlooking the terrace that's completely filled.

Adjescent to my table is a large family, by my standards, 2 boys, 1 girl (all under 15) and parents. My first instint is they are French but I searched my thoughts and looked again as to second guess my initial generalization which indeed are human patterns. As I surveyed the table the following dishes were present smoked salmon salad, steak tartare and entrecote. All meats were rare to medium at best. Indeed, they had to be french as the 12 year old girl was eating steak tartare like me whom maybe 5 years ago ate only very well/tire like meat.

Education and exposure erases or blurs the lines of culutre and class as the music turns to salsa (haha).

English spoken flowered with the foreign accent and with the accent of perfumes of proper taught (thought) english, it is ofen a way of expressing worldliness.

week une

Time has the ability to pass like clouds. Today is a week since our arrival. Even in a week many passings have occurred within hours.

As day one came to an end, she stumbles out the flat to search for french mobile carte sim avec data and fuel to stay awake. The neighbor who was introduced previously is indeed a shopkeeper two doors down. Amicable and pleasant he is helpful with details and directions.

Accomplishing goal one and returning to home, Sixtaine knocks on the door and mentions that will return demain to settle the rental tab and makes mention that the shopkeeper (Archer) is amidst divorcing and perhaps it would be nice to have a new friend "for a drink" or company.

In this point of arrival, its a bit unclear the route such introduction will lead. Often it is understood that ending relationships take a bit longer, specially emotionally before they are no longer a part of heavy thoughts carrying failures and disappointments. Voila, c'est la vie...

Descending the stairs in a state of delirium, Lebanese seems like a good food option. As a well travelled person, it seems Aix en Provence lacks a creative energy existent in major cities. A bit bland and homogenize, all restaurants have the same classic French aesthetic and all shops have the same clean windows. For this reason, Lebanese would be a more interesting choice for a first meal since it would be impossible to have a huge variety and stimulating cuisine during the duration of this voyage.

Approaching the locale recommended its a bit unclear which one is it. Seating is ample but yet sitting near the plaza is reserved for larger parties, party of one often gets the attention of a step-child. Focusing on getting a meal, the kafta en sesame cream is ordered with a sparkling water. The owner is attentive and comes often, he becomes weary the meal is not so great as eating has subsided to a halt. "A porter" the owner brings a take-away container, patiently packs it and drops in the bag a huge pack of pitas. As he returns with the check, he brings some lovely Middle Eastern mint tea sweetened and warm just like this encounter of French details.

These types of gestures continued, then the market seller closes the transaction with a bunch of lavender and the pizza guy ends the meal with a lovely petite dessert of whipped cream and fresh strawberries. All free, all tokens of appreciation for patronage one is to assume. Yet today was indeed the best one, after renting a voiture for the weekend for 100 euros and pumping gas twice in order to fill fuel usage of perhaps a quarter of a tank, after 25 euros it was still not full. In the interest of time, it is assumed the tank will continue filling...NOT! Upon arriving at the rental office, the attendant (at this point only encounter women) makes note that there's petro missing and it would be costly. Explaining the aforementioned, she asks for the receipt of the gas to proof words spoken or excuse validation. Providing the receipt, she is satisfied a valid attempt was made and life is really about attempts. No extra charges for gasoline used!

Returning to human dynamics that often determine the value of experiences. We find the shopkeeper various times of the day, friendly and charming. Mid week they exchange numbers and decide to go for a drink. Like minded people often have a way of connecting on the premise of dreams and lifestyles.

first day in Aix en Provence

We find ourselves on particular rue in aix en Provence. , to be exact rue bertjau in the center of the ville. It is a sunny day on the 27th day of 30 in this month. A taxi pulls up to numero 5, a narrow street leading to a narrow doorway. Natural wood stain door with brass handle. The woman gives the driver a huge amount of 40 euros and attempts to exit the voiture. It has been a long day; she brings on this excursion luggage weighing 50+ lbs, a backpack and a chien named tiger.

Just a few feet away, stand a man and a woman in discourse in front of a magasin. They might be expecting our visitor or not, we will soon find out. In the meantime, our protagonist exists and gathers all the belongings she will be dependent on for the next seven weeks in the cote d'azur.

The couple finishes their conversation and sees that someone is just getting off the cab. The woman makes gestures that indicate she is the landlady and that her tenant has arrived. Ending the conversation, she approaches the Americaine visitor and makes the introduction; having communicated many times via email it is a simple "enchante".

Ascending the stairs it is evident, the day's labors are not quite done. Three flights of stairs in a winding way end in a sunny floor, not the top but just one flight before it. The sun is brilliant and notion of gratitude is silently expressed to the clouds.

In the foggy state of travel, the entrance leads to the kitchen with huge windowpane windows. Leading to the living are and beyond to the rooms. Simple yet spacious this flat will be her station for almost three weeks. While the home's tour is made, the man that was accompanying the landlady buzzes and comes up for what it seems a tour of the apartment as well.

He is handsome as most French men are to the americaine. Classic styling, no specific features, tall and lean with an air of confidence. Pre-made and delivered inherent acceptability. As he wanders the apt, it is evident his height was not made for these living quarters. He has to lower his head in order to pass through the bedroom's doorway. As he departs, Sixtaine- the landlady-mentions her neighbor is around if anything is needed. Uncertain of anything at this point, the tenant thanks her and attempts to settle herself and her companion.

Frazzled and starved, as expected after 6+ hours on a plane and additional 4+ hours on a train, sixtaine was thoughtful to bring fruit and a croissant for mademoiselle. French hospitality is proving to be very acceptable.

And so as we end this encounter, this is not a documentation of life in France for an American or beginnings that often have endings but a tale of continuance. As life has proven, it is often in flux but always following the lines we draw. So we, well I the one holding the pen of expression, will attempt to detail my life in France as it unravels to fate having my hand and guiding me in another journey of exploration and education of life.