postcards from paris: The Parents: Part 1: The South

My mom claims that they narrowed their 1200 photos of their trip to France down to a measly 14 to show their friends. 14! I will not be so kind, but I will try to abbreviate. Here's the story of my time with my parents in France.

I took the train from Paris to Nîmes on a cloudy Monday morning and watched the rain of Paris dissolve into the sunniness of Provence.

It was so good to see them at the station.

We chilled out the first night at their home exchange maison, a beautiful residence with olive trees and lavender and the wide open sky.

We listened to Django Reinhardt and smoked cigars and talked about astronomy as the sun begrudgingly went down.

The next day we headed out on a little road trip. We told my mom we were just going to Monaco and the French Riviera, but Tom and I had secret plans.

'Round about this time, we kept on driving and told my mom, "You've been kidnapped. We're going all the way to Italy."

Onto San Remo it was!

We found a cute little pizzeria to have lunch at, and my two years of Italian studies promptly shut down, held hostage by my new Frenchified brain.

We still managed to order and have a beautiful seaside lunch.

We dipped our toes into the Mediterranean and enjoyed the expanse.

Next we wound our way around the coast to Monaco, home of fast cars, Grace Kelly and lots of rich people. The coast was unimaginably beautiful, and photos don't do it justice.

We wandered around Monaco, looking for a nice place to have a cocktail.

"Where should we go?" "Oh, I don't know, how about the Billionaire's Club?" "Yes, the Billionaire's Club is fine."

That's where we ended up - at the top of a massive hotel overlooking all of Monaco and its blue, blue sea.

Mom and I had deliciously cold cocktails.

And Tom had what he claims to be the most delicious 2-bite club sandwich of his life.

Next it was on to Nice, where I'd been before but am always down for hanging around in again. It was beautiful and we got to swim a bit in the Mediterranean, among Italian and French teenagers who probably do this every year.

We went in search of food...

And ended up at one of many traditional Nice pizzerias, but what seemed like the best one ever. The setting sun threw a crazy gold light on the old town around us.

We did not get lost on the way home.
The next day, Mom enjoyed the lavender at the house.

And we went into town, this one being called Uzés, and had some ice cream.

I got thyme-flavored ice cream. It was amazing.

There was a lot of relaxing to be done at the house. My parents know how to strategize to make the most of their energy.

Our borrowed car kiiiiiiinda broke down, and when Phillippe came over to fix it, I was the translator. It turns out I know a lot more French than I thought I did. "Le batterie c'est cassé. C'est mort!"

While Mom watched from above.

Later that day we found some lavender fields and Mom and I romped.

You have to get your hugs in while you can, and a lavender field in Provence is a nice place to do it.

On our way back, we caught sight of this incredible sunflower field and pulled over to check it out. The sunflowers, straight out of a Van Gogh painting, were as big as our faces.