A Surprise or How we (non-gamblers) ended up in Atlantic City . . .

I have always avoided cities where the main entertainment is gambling, where most visitors remain sequestered in dark, chilled rooms, working their machines with the blinking lights and carnival sounds. But the exception--a wedding shower for my son and his fiancée was to be held in Atlantic City.

My daughter and I were invited but not expected, given that we live “out of town,” in Florida and France. But my daughter started thinking. What if we made a surprise visit? We told no one of our plans except the mother and sister of the bride-to-be. We arrived for an informal brunch, disguised in floppy hats and big sunglasses. It was a surprise.

We had some surprises with the city itself. We had expected loud music on the boardwalk and waves of tourists. We didn’t expect hustlers (always with a proposition), exorbitant fees of ATM machines and lack of grocery stores . . . combined to wear us down. But we found respite in quiet evenings at Bungalow’s, a Mediterranean restaurant with a large outdoor terrace and tango music in the background and in beaches at the south end of the boardwalk.

Our last day in Atlantic City should have been with family and friends at the wedding shower. But a series of thunderstorms with high winds (known as a derecho) charged through the Mid-Atlantic states early Saturday morning, leaving much of the area (with the exception of the casinos) without electricity. Needless to say, the wedding shower had to be postponed, and many people are still without electricity. If you go-- - Atlantic Club Casino Hotel – nice rooms and good rates (if you use Hotels.com or Expedia) at the south end of the boardwalk. Easy parking. Best to go during a weekday. - Bungalow’s restaurant—corner of the boardwalk and California Avenue. Also numerous fast-food and high-end restaurants (in casino hotels) line the boardwalk. - Jitney transportation (along Pacific Avenue, to casino hotels, marina and Tanger Outlet mall). $2.50 - A nature reprieve – wetlands and marshes near Cape May in the south and the Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge just north. - Other – Going south—Margate has luxury beach homes and Lucy the Elephant. Wildwood, a beachside resort with boardwalk has the amusement park rides, fast-food and souvenir stores as well as restaurants, Wawa grocery stores, liquor/wine stores, and ATM machines. - Travel –Direct flights from Orlando and other cities (some cities have direct flights only in the summer). Philadelphia International Airport is an easy drive (about an hour).

Knickers & Grandmothers - Jane Tolbert muses

In Remember Me by Sophie Kinsella, Lexi Smart awakens in hospital, with what she terms a “horrendous thought.” “What underwear was I wearing? . . . . This could be the scaggy gray knickers and bra that I only put on when the hamper is full.” I have had similar thoughts because my grandmother always said to wear nice under garments because you never know when you may be carted into the emergency room. Years ago a reporter for the Tampa Tribune said his grandmother gave the same advice. The subject of knickers and grandmothers came up in his talk to a journalism class at the University of Florida. He was in San Francisco at the time of the earthquake in 1989, standing on a hotel balcony when everything started shaking. The first thought that entered his mind, what was he wearing! But there is a price for looking good . . . For those you who want to look your best at your worst moment, here is a link for La Perla. But just the prices may be enough to send you to the emergency room. So far, advertisers for knickers haven't used this type of personal appeal--yet.

Nearly Summer - Bring on the rosé! --Jane Tolbert

Ah, those warm summer evenings. A chilled glass of crisp rosé would be just the thing to accompany pizza from the Bilboquet in Magagnosc (near Grasse), summer salads or seafood . . . . In France, especially in Provence, you can find these reasonably priced rosé wines in all grocery stores. But when you are in the States, grocery store shelves are lined with the pink-colored white Zinfandel. Not the same! Liquor and wine stores provide the main selection of rosé from Provence. So what's the appeal? Traditionally, French cuisine has required specific wines with specific foods (such as red with red meat) and a specific order (if you start with red, you continue with red; if you begin with a white, you can continue with white or move to red). But lifestyles have changed, and consumption of rosé has increased, from 10.8 percent in 1990 to 25 percent in 2010, according to the Vins de Provence website. Most French rosés, which are made from red grapes macerated for a short period, come from Provence--that southern region along the Mediterranean. Provence produces 38 percent of domestic rosé (or approximately 150-million bottles per year) and 8 percent of world production. Among the best are those from Bandol. Right now, in my frig, I have a chilled Moncigale Côtes de Provence. So what's the appeal? More traditional meals or formal settings may require specific wines with specific foods, a rosé goes with just about everything. Now, about that pizza and the Moncigale. . . . Care to join me? Tips on purchasing a rosé--I would purchase from a wine store. Look for labels that carry Appelation D'Origine Controlée, AOC Côtes de Provence. AOC guarantees the origin of the product. Santé! Tchin-tchin! Cheers!

Elusive Dance Space But Love of Tango (Argentine, that is)

Given that we tangueros and tangueras seek that sublime dance connection a partner, we attend milongas in a variety of location—from the divine to the dive. Most often, our dance venues are in places like an Elks or Moose club, a senior center or Masonic Temple. But some milongas are held in warehouses, which look like fire traps or a scene out of CSI. Why don’t we have a dedicated dance space? Probably the source of the problem is lack of funding. Tango does not draw the affluence of ballroom. Tango dancers don’t spend a lot of money on food or drink but will travel to workshops or to Buenos Aires. Our favorite dance place would provide ambience, comfort, good music and friends and the possibility or food and drink. --My favorite tango bar—Jack Blues has been hosting the Tuesday night Milonga Linda (Cagnes-sur-Mer) for nearly a decade (but who would know to walk down this alley to the wine cave, where the milonga is held?)

Not a good time for mailboxes

Thankfully, Zappos packages are delivered to my front door because anything heavier than a 1- ounce envelope will topple my mailbox with its rusted post.

My problem with mailboxes goes back a few weeks. I am sure I backed my moving truck into my neighbor’s mailbox, which began to tilt. My handyman repaired it quickly. It’s upright and looks like new. But now, I have another mailbox problem. Salt air on the Florida coast has rusted my mailbox post, and it’s tilting precariously. I have called my handyman several times in the past two weeks, but he’s not returning my calls. I’ve resorted to duct tape to hold the box onto the post.

House repair departments have mailbox kits that target homeowners like me. Little assembly required or needs no cement to anchor the posts. One type of box requires strength (and a level and hammer), and the other seems to have a very large screw that goes into the ground (again, a level and biceps), with prices ranging from $39-$79.

My handyman’s voicemail is now full. My options are to purchase the post and locate my tools or order Florida kitsch, which would probably be delivered and installed. For a price! But I am not sure I am ready for kitsch. And moreover, even kitsch is costly!

Wildflowers in the Alpes-Maritimes - Les fleurs, ça ne se mangent pas!

I became interested in wildflowers of the Alpes-Maritimes, that wonderfully diverse region in Southeastern France that extends from the Mediterranean to the Alps, when a photographer friend showed me his close-ups of orchids, cistus and other flowers. Flowers? I’d had only heard of Roman ruins, topless beaches and the azure-blue of the sea. I knew nothing about the flora.

I already had the 35mm camera and lenses, and I bought a book, which became my bible—Fleurs du basin Méditerranéen by Fernand Nathan. I spent numerous hours at our house near Grasse and on nature trails of Sophia Antipolis, photographing wildflowers.

Back at the mas, we marked off our wildflower areas so we could see which flowers returned. The month of May was off limits to any lawnmower or bushwacker. The lawn looked a bit untidy, but we were waiting for that profusion of color.

We had been warned about grazing sheep, destroying photo ops. We didn’t know of any sheep in our area. And we hadn't seen our gardener since October. But early one morning our twice-a-year gardener arrived. Needless to say, he considered flowers superfluous, a luxury because they could not be eaten. --Les fleurs, ça ne se mangent pas! Before we could stop him, our gardener had mowed through our areas of wildflowers. Our flowers had disappeared under the whirling blade. . . . Gone were buttercup, orchids, poppies and gladiolas. Maybe the following year. . . .

For more information on wildflowers in the Alpes-Maritimes, visit here.

Cape Cod--Vacation with (almost) no schedule

Years ago advertisements for a Florida vacation said something like, "Leave your watch at home." I planned to do just that while in Cape Cod. I only had to plan for the arrival and departure of my flights. But when I arrived at Logan International Airport, the bus to the Cape was delayed due to construction and repairs on the Sagamore Bridge. Once I got to the Cape, I would leave the watch behind.

The next day, my son and I left for Martha's Vineyard. This time, our schedule was based on that of the Steamship Authority ferry, which left from Woods Hole.

And once on the island, our walks, sightseeing and coffee stops were dictated by the #13 bus, which ran between the dock at Vineyard Haven, Oaks Bluff and Edgartown. We wandered streets--Oaks Bluff, with its ornate, painted houses, and Edgartown with a more traditional or classic architecture. We were curious about the history. Who was Martha? Where were the vineyards? And why weren't there more cafes! But there was no time to find out. We had the 3:45 p.m. ferry to catch for the Cape. The only people who didn't seem to have a schedule were the shopkeepers.

Saturday--generally, a leisurely day for my son and his fiancee. But after breakfast at a corner cafe and a quick walking tour of Sandwich, settled in 1637, we had a meeting with a realtor to look at houses.

We visited Boston on Sunday. Given the traffic from the Cape back to Boston on Sunday, we had to leave by mid morning to get in sightseeing before my early evening flight. Ah the cafes in the Italian district. A latte at the Caffe Vittoria (ca. 1929)on Hanover Street in Boston.

Past the wharf, a quick peek into the opera house and King's Chapel burying ground. Our walk took us over many brick streets and sidewalks (NOTE--heels and historic cobbled streets do not mix). We needed some time on Newbury Street, where I hoped to do some shopping. But by now my quick strides had slowed to a hobble (what with all the blisters on my feet from wearing heels). Shopping, as well as the library, art museums,Freedom Trail and Cheers bar, would have to wait until the next trip. My son and his fiancee dropped me off at the airport for my flight. We hugged and waved goodbye. I raced to the check-in counter. My flight had been delayed, then rescheduled. Once en route, it was diverted due to storms. Eventually, I got back home at 2 in the morning. But even with the frantic schedule of a vacation, I had a wonderful trip to Cape Cod. But maybe I could learn about schedules from the shopkeepers on the Cape. . . .