Bring Back the Seasons. . .

I went through Schiphol Airport (Amsterdam) on Nov. 12. The place had a distinctive Christmas feel. Garlands, trees and ornaments decorated the ceilings and walls. Back in the States, grocery stores had replaced bags of candy corn with red and green M&Ms . . . .


Thanksgiving has never had the commercial appeal of Halloween and certainly cannot compete with Christmas. Increasingly, Thanksgiving has been rebranded by media and merchants as the eve of Black Friday!

“Black Friday Madness Sweeps Across the Country” – NPR

“Black Friday Shoppers Fan Out in the Night” – New York Times

“Earlier Black Friday Openings Draw Crowds” – Wall Street Journal

With these headlines and images of people waiting in long lines, the rest of us undergo a guilt trip. Everyone is out shopping. Maybe we should be too.

Thanksgiving has been holiday of intense travel so people could spend time with families. But merchants are trying to ensure 100 percent participation. That even the Occupy groups give up their protest for 24 hours.

The new opening hours (some at 9 p.m. Thanksgiving evening) enable people can get up from the family dinner, wave bye to all the aunts and uncles they haven’t seen for the past year and now travel to the shopping center to join the lines forming for that flat-screen TV or Blu-Ray Player.

This year, Black Friday started on what has been traditionally known as Thanksgiving Thursday. For those who missed out on this event, Cyber Monday is starting early too. . . .

Fewer Places to Light Up

The 36th Annual Great American Smokeout (Nov. 17, 2011) targeted more than 45-million smokers in the United States and encouraged them to quit.

I must have been about 9 or 10 when I found an unattended cigarette in an ashtray at one of our family dinners. I took it outside, pretended to be glamorous when I smoked that cigarette. After all, advertising gave smoking a certain allure. But I had a sore throat for days afterwards, and I couldn’t tell anyone why.

I soon experienced the dangers first hand when I lost my grandfather to lung cancer and a few months later my grandmother to emphysema.

Today, anti-smoking campaigns continue to intensify--smoking is prohibited in enclosed spaces and now many public areas and on some university campuses.

The European Commission has called for a smoke-free Europe by 2012. And by the fall of 2012, the US will join other nations in mandating that cigarette packages carry graphic warnings about the dangers. If smokers get past the sore throat, will these images serve to deter?

Detours and Open-toe shoes

I traveled from Florida with my shoes—all open toed—which is fine for most days in the Sunshine State but not practical for rain and chilly weather in Juan-les-Pins. I planned to buy new shoes in Cannes, but the G-20 followed by rains and flooding delayed shopping.

Bijou Plage - Nov. 5, 2011 - Brewing storm

Anyway, weather conditions meant our thoughts shifted from shopping to the more pragmatic tasks of emptying buckets under leaking roofs.

Just when we assumed the rains had passed, the waves began to lash at the coast, carrying off much of the sand on narrow beaches (the last big waves were in May 2010).


The beaches look like this in summer months.

July 2011 - Plage de la Salis (Antibes)

After the violent waves, they looked like this.

After the storm - Plage la Salis (Nov. 12, 2011)


Flooding closed down the seaside roads and the N-7, which runs parallel. Detour signs took us back inland, where cars and trucks had run off the road due to flooding. Traffic problems meant the usual 20-minute commute turned into one of three hours.

Detour signs appeared on coastal and inland roads.

Sun and people return to the boardwalk (Nov. 9, 2011)

With the return of beautiful weather, everyone returned to the boardwalks to assess the damage, commenting, “La mer a bouffée la plage” (the sea gobbled up the beach). Trees and logs washed up on Antibes beaches, and seaweed covered those at Juan-les-Pins. Rocks, gravel and dirt littered inland roads.

Once the storms subsided and the detour signs disappeared, I went to Cannes for more practical, closed-toe shoes. . . .

For vivid photos of the storm (I was either mopping up or keeping shutters closed), please visit the Nice Matin, http://www.nicematin.com/diaporama/coup-de-mer-sur-la-cote-dazur-les-images?idx=1#top-diapo.

The G-20 and the rest of us

JUAN-LES-PINS--For the past week, everyone has been preoccupied with the G-20. Not because of our knowledge of the world monetary crisis but because of an additional 12,000 armed security forces on street corners, intersections and just about anywhere between Cannes, Nice and Grasse. More than 5,000 dignitaries and 3,500 journalists arrived for the two-day meeting. The hotel industry, in off-season, had the equivalent of 35,000 nights. The price tag—20-million euros--apparently falls upon taxpayers.

For most people, Cannes became an “occupied” city. Residents and workers had to have a badge to enter. Many shops and companies closed because employees and clients could not get in. Fishermen received compensation not to go out. And there were two submarines nearby. . . .

No one wanted to attract attention! We were on the “qui vive”—carrying our identity papers and following the code de la route (it’s very detailed in France) to the letter. We avoided locations where security forces had gathered . . . . But then we needed gas.

We pulled into a service station where gendarmes chatted beside the only island of working gas pumps. My debit card did not work. We backed and maneuvered to another pump. The hose did not reach the far side the of car. Could we ask the gendarmes to move over?

“What’s the matter—your bank card is not cooperating?” they commented, laughing.

I guess they understood we were pretty nervous. During the G-20, no one checked our papers, but we did encounter traffic jams due to road closures.

Things should return to normal this week. And we will debate impact of the G-20 on daily lives and the economic effect of closing down and securing a major city rather than holding the event on a military base . . .

A Lazy Sunday in Juan-les-Pins

The summer tourists have left Juan-les-Pins, but beautiful weather has kept crowds coming to this beachside resort.

I have returned to work on a family project. And Sunday evening I went by the Crystal, my favorite cafe, to have a kir and watch people.

My day started early--around 8 a.m. with a 20-minute walk from Juan-les-Pins along the N-7 to the old Antibes market, which presents a unique sensory experience. Colors and smells of flowers, spices and olives, sausages, fish, meats and cheese, wines as well as small packets of Provencal herbs and lavender.

Chrysanthemums are put on tombs for All Saints' Day (Nov. 1), which is a holiday. I always run in the absinthe store and a few small boutiques.

I leave the market, wander narrow streets and then follow the ramparts where cars and cyclists whiz by.

The Plage de la Salis is one of my favorite beaches because of the view--the old city of Antibes with the alps in the background and parasol pines of the Cape d'Antibes.

Cyclists continue along the Cap d'Antibes, but I take the Chemin des Sables, which cuts across the Cape, to Juan-les-Pins. It's nearly 10:30 a.m. and I need to run by a grocery store for the things I did not want to carry on my walk. Stores are open only Sunday morning and then reopen on Monday.

Everything has been within walking distance.

There's always something special about a lazy Sunday with no real schedule.

On another note, I am sure the people in Cannes preparing for the G-20 Summit, would have loved a lazy Sunday. . . .

Trees for all (French) seasons

Trees bordering the road from Opio to Valbonne (April)

Trees near Pre-du-Lac (Grasse region, November)

The French had a great idea—tree-lined roads to shade travelers, mark property lines and provide guideposts. I thought this innovation dated from the time of Napoleon. But apparently, Henri II signed an edict in 1522. He was ahead of his time.

But with urbanization, increasing traffic and larger cars, I'm not how long these scenes will remain.

Town squares often have sycamore, with scaled, spotted bark. They are trimmed in January, and for months their branches look gnarled and arthritic until the leaves return in late spring.

Magagnosc, just east of Grasse, overlooks the Mediterreanean

The French Riviera, with its micro-climates, has palms and citrus inland as far as Grasse. Although the region looks very tropical, the temperatures may drop below freezing in winter nights, and the bone-chilling Mistral wind whips through the area. But clothes dry quickly on outdoor lines. . . . Unless they have blown away.

The Fragonard Museum, which contains works by artist Jean-Honoré Fragonard, is in the old city.

An older residence in Vallauris, a region made famous by Picasso, with citrus and palms.

Parasol pines provide a canopy of shade over the boules area, overlooking the Mediterranean

The unique trees make the region. And I may take up boules just to have an excuse to spend my days under these parasol pines.

Taking Olives to the Mill. . . .

An olive tree in front of a mas (farmhouse) near Grasse, France

The season to harvest olives and take them to the mill is nearing. It's something I always planned to do. After all, we lived on a parcel of land with more than 40 olive trees. Two majestic trees stood in front of the house, and the top windows looked right into those silver-gray leaves.

We hired a gardener to help us revive the trees. He wanted to cut back those two majestic trees, claiming it would enable us to harvest olives. We refused.

On small plots of land bordering winding roads between Valbonne, Opio and Grasse, plastic nets are spread on the ground to catch the small, dark olives as they fall. Most friends cured the olives in brine. For those who had the quantity of olives needed to be pressed to oil, the mill generally took a percentage of the oil as payment.

I always planned to gather olives and take them to the mill. But I never had the quantity needed (not to mention the nets or time). Now, more than 20 years have passed. . . . I no longer have 40 olive trees but a small olive tree growing in a pot.

The vendor thought the tree would produce in the next four years. . . .Certainly not enough for a bottle of oil but maybe a few olives I could serve guests.