Me, Myself and Moi 

                                                                                                           

Here's an article I wrote for France On Your Own November Newsletter

There I was, a 50ish American woman sitting on the beach in Cannes all by myself.  I looked around at all the bronze bodies, all ages and conditions, wearing next to nothing.  Behind me was the restaurant terrace set for lunch under a smartly striped canopy. In front of me was the Mediterranean, the ancient birthing pool of humanity.  It was now or never.

I dropped my top.  And that's when my French vacation took off.

Had I been with a husband, a couple of girlfriends or (shudder) a tour group, I would never have dared. But with nobody to consult, I followed my own instincts. Hey, I thought, if that plump granny over there can do it, so can I.

Nobody paid any attention, of course, but that gesture punctured my American bubble and released me into the stream of French life. I was no longer on the sidelines with a camera.  As we used to say in the Sixties, I was going with the flow.

Of course, you can have lots of fun in France while fully clothed - I give you this scenario because it was my own personal breakthrough as a woman traveling solo for the first time. That was me in a foreign country stripped of all my props and open to what the place had to teach me.

Now that I'm a veteran traveler living in France, I' d like to share all that with you - whether you're single, divorced, separated or just dreaming of stepping out on your own for a change.  I'm organizing a new Personal Provence Workshop to take cozy groups of neophytes through the steps of traveling solo in France. You'll start out from my home base in Saignon, a perched village in the Luberon region of  Provence, and you'll be sent out on adventures, staying overnight at personally selected hotels, inns, B&Bs, dining in charming restaurants and cafés, and exploring my favorite towns and villages. After each foray, you'll come back to home base, and well share experiences. Then well shuffle your destinations and you'll go off to your next adventure. It's a safe and fun way to go solo - and you'll be in good company!

Pathological Compulsion

I like to start the day with a solitary walk on the plateau above the village. In fact, I'm compelled to walk. It's the only way I can think clearly enough to write every day.  The path I take every day was cleared and marked more than 50 years ago by a  local man named François Morenas. He created a network of paths that take you on a tour of country life, highlighting the handiwork of man and nature. Each path reads like a story of life, punctuated by colored markers for hikers, bikers and walkers like me.  

This path leads through private property. The owners helped out by fencing their land in two sections so the path could continue its journey through the woods. Their horses are corralled behind the gate on the left,  and they're led across the path and through the gate on the right to graze in the pasture.

It's reassuring to know that the horses have their own space to roam around and do whatever horses do. It is even more reassuring, this being hunting season, to know that the hunters also have their space, so there won't be any bullets zinging over my head or ricocheting off trees that I'm looking at...like these.

There's a tree, left, that grew up on one side of the path and then crossed over to reach for the sky. I can relate to that--I grew up on one side of the Atlantic and am reaching for the sky over France.  There's another tree, right, that decided to straddle the path and enjoy both sides. It reminds me of a French term...jambes dans l'air... which alludes to an agreeable lady mightily enjoying herself. 

Here's a very human tree -- with a belly button. Could use a loofah.

The sheep have their side of the path today, surrounded by an electric fence put up by their shepherd, a young man from a neighboring village.

Stone critters are allowed to hang out on the path.

This is a borie, an ancient shepherd's hut, a dry-stone construction that uses no mortar. They've been around this area for eons, and the farmers respect and plant around them. This borie is the most famous.

Here's the lavender sleeping in off-season peace.

Beau was raised to hunt, and today he seems to be on the trail of something or someone...

...and he found them: a group of local hunters. The one in the orange cap is Pierre Roux, the Best Wild Boar Hunter. He can make the noise of any animal you can name; he can use a dowsing stick to find water; and he can cure aches and pains with the heat of his hands. But no luck today for hunting. 

I had to stop -- I was compelled -- to shoot these glorious golden cherry trees. 

My passenger waited patiently for me. He may not know that pathological can mean therapeutic and even cathartic, but he knows paths and how to appreciate them.