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Moving soils again....
This time to France, to explore the region of Condrieu with Francois Villard. It's surreal to know that in just a few short weeks, I'll be digging my hands into the fabled soils of Vienne, with the majestic Rhone river snaking slowly below le cave.
But for now, I am living and breathing Paris. Smoke, exhaust, and crowds of people in the summer balances with perfumes of roses, jasmine, Ricardo and the damp chestnut trees. It rained this afternoon, and there is nothing better in the summer to cool off the pavements. Before Paris there was London, where in addition to caving many pints and fish and chips, a most wonderful evening was spent at the American Bar at The Savoy hotel. Cocktail after cocktail were designed with precision by our bartender, Latislav, who was planning to head to New York to open a cocktail bar with some of his friends. I highly recommend searching out this bar.
Then on to Paris, where magic has been happening since day one. For example: I arrived on a Sunday, which happened to be a glorious day, and the city seemed so quiet. Too quiet. It was a dramatic change from the craziness of London. As I wandered over to the Rue di Rivoli, to get across to the Seine, it occurred to me that there might be a parade happening, as the streets were completely blocked off. Slowly I realized that the only way the whole city of Paris would be gathered at the edge of this street would be for one event. The thousands of people wearing yellow jerseys and tshirts confirmed this belief. I had happened upon the final stage of the Tour de France. In a few short minutes, the competitors, leaning in close over their graphite and lightweight bicycle bodies, came hurling past me and in an instant I caught a photo of the Yellow Jersey, le Tour Eiffel, le Concorde Obelisk and le Tuleries, a fantastic shot.
But for now, I intend on taking my time in Paris, and avoiding the hustle that seems to dictate so many visitors to this great city. It is nearly August, and already the boulevards are packed with people from all over the world on holiday. For once, I feel no pressure to see every museum, dine at every great restaurant, see every great monument. I know I will be back, and very soon. This is the beginning of a very long sojourn into the French culture, and for now, I just want to walk the various arrondissements and discover Paris on my own terms. And let those on holiday rush by me on the boulevards just as the riders in the Tour de France did. I'll be happy just to sit back and watch.
Moving soils again....
This time to France, to explore the region of Condrieu with Francois Villard. It's surreal to know that in just a few short weeks, I'll be digging my hands into the fabled soils of Vienne, with the majestic Rhone river snaking slowly below le cave.
But for now, I am living and breathing Paris. Smoke, exhaust, and crowds of people in the summer balances with perfumes of roses, jasmine, Ricardo and the damp chestnut trees. It rained this afternoon, and there is nothing better in the summer to cool off the pavements. Before Paris there was London, where in addition to caving many pints and fish and chips, a most wonderful evening was spent at the American Bar at The Savoy hotel. Cocktail after cocktail were designed with precision by our bartender, Latislav, who was planning to head to New York to open a cocktail bar with some of his friends. I highly recommend searching out this bar.
Then on to Paris, where magic has been happening since day one. For example: I arrived on a Sunday, which happened to be a glorious day, and the city seemed so quiet. Too quiet. It was a dramatic change from the craziness of London. As I wandered over to the Rue di Rivoli, to get across to the Seine, it occurred to me that there might be a parade happening, as the streets were completely blocked off. Slowly I realized that the only way the whole city of Paris would be gathered at the edge of this street would be for one event. The thousands of people wearing yellow jerseys and tshirts confirmed this belief. I had happened upon the final stage of the Tour de France. In a few short minutes, the competitors, leaning in close over their graphite and lightweight bicycle bodies, came hurling past me and in an instant I caught a photo of the Yellow Jersey, le Tour Eiffel, le Concorde Obelisk and le Tuleries, a fantastic shot.
But for now, I intend on taking my time in Paris, and avoiding the hustle that seems to dictate so many visitors to this great city. It is nearly August, and already the boulevards are packed with people from all over the world on holiday. For once, I feel no pressure to see every museum, dine at every great restaurant, see every great monument. I know I will be back, and very soon. This is the beginning of a very long sojourn into the French culture, and for now, I just want to walk the various arrondissements and discover Paris on my own terms. And let those on holiday rush by me on the boulevards just as the riders in the Tour de France did. I'll be happy just to sit back and watch.