A French retrospective.

Oh dear, oh dear. By my count, it's been over two months since either of the Zoutendams have posted here. At least you can count on the quality making up for lack of quantity, right? *cricket, cricket*

Ahem.

On this, the one year anniversary of our marriage, we have made neither the first nor last compromise: Philip has promised to write a thoughtful, well-composed entry if I will meanwhile wile away the time by narrating a series of pictures from our France trip. Most of you will probably have seen all of these, but in case some of you don't have Facebook (or, like, cars or anything), please, read on. (You can click on any of the pictures to see them larger.)

Ah, yes, here I am in our lovely little Parisian apartment, smiling a demure Parisian smile, overlooking a world that is, apparently, entirely sepia (because the Marais is very stylish in that way). France (but especially Paris) is like this--I truly believe that once you step foot into that country, you lose weight, your hair becomes more glamorous, your clothes fit better, and your laugh probably becomes a little more charmingly aristocratic. That, my friends, is the magic of the French.

We spent four or five days in Paris, so we had to prioritize our time. First on my list was introducing Philip to the magical wonderland that is Pere Lachaise cemetery. If you can, imagine a tiny city made up entirely of tiny cathedrals, and then imagine that that city is in a wood, and imagine that there are broad avenues lined by trees as well. The cathedrals are the tombs of France's most famous dead, including Chopin, Delacroix, Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, and many others.

It was in Paris that we realized that this trip was not primarily about sites, it was not about photos or postcards; no--it was about food. Here is one of our favorite meals--an entire feast crammed onto a tiny Parisian bistro table. On the right you see my lamb, stewed for seven hours with prunes and spices. On the left, my salad with . . . French cheesy potatoes? Quelle splendeur!

One of the most felicitous things about our time in Paris is that our dear college friend Hannah was also there. She was kind enough not only to cook us lunch, but to take this beautiful photograph of us on her rooftop.

Here is our second stop, the famous city of Bordeaux (as seen from our rather unimpressive riverboat cruise). The architecture along the Garonne River is so delightfully 18th century that it puts your heart to rest on a bed of sweet proportions with pillows of Golden means. Bordeaux, with its entire streets of cafe terraces, is like a smaller, more intimate Paris. The neighborhoods along the river bespeak the wealth of 18th century wine trade and I often hoped to stumble upon a flaneuse walking her pet turtle to a salon.

It was in Bordeaux that we first uttered those horrible words, words that no human being should ever hear: "I don't think I want another three course meal tonight." But rather than sinking into the slough of ingratitude, we simply made our way to the nearest kebab shop. The kebabs we received were exquis: some indistinguishable meat piled onto a pita with vegetables and an indistinguishable white sauce, all grilled together and the crowned with French fries (yes, in the pita).

From Bordeaux to St. Emilion, a quasi-Mediterranean, quasi-British wine town a short bus ride away. Because we couldn't bring wine home, we bought one expensive bottle and enjoyed tasting a few others. St. Emilion, is the words of Hannah, "is quite possible the most beautiful place I've ever seen." Indeed, it makes words like "sun-splashed" and "a jewel" seem a little tawdry.

We also enjoyed renting bikes to wind our way through the vineyards. The skies made for an ominous backdrop to our hilly ride, but we made it back with no rain and enjoyed the countryside very much indeed.

Here, my friends, is Rex, who was probably my favorite part of the whole trip. We were blessed enough to stumble upon the contact information of Francoise, a warm French woman who loved animals and owned 30 horses. For what seemed like an unfairly low price, she led us through the Bordeaux countryside for two hours. We enjoyed riding English, which Philip had never done before, and Francoise trusted us enough to let us trot and canter considerably. Rex was a sweet, obedient horse and a fellow gourmet to boot!

From Bordeaux in southwestern France to the tiny town of Dinan in Brittany. Dinan is such a gem--on any summer day the streets feel like a medieval fair, due to the street musicians and the half-timbered houses. I think of all the places we visited, we loved tiny Dinan the best.

Dinan is built on a hillside overlooking the River Rance. Here is the aqueduct across the river, over which the Tour de France cyclists had passed not one week earlier. You can see how luscious the valley is; indeed our impoverished Arizona souls felt quite revived.

One of the few shots of us together, in front of the river.

While so close to the Atlantic shore, we decided to visit some of the other Brittany cities. Here is the view from the coast of St. Malo--a fortified island you can reach by foot at low tide.

Another view of a fortified island from a different fortified island.

Philip is such a true Breton with his striped shirt and love of the ocean. He also bought a navy raincoat, and indeed he looked quite native! While we will always love Paris (me especially), we're mid-westerners at heart, which means that small towns, rolling landscapes of any kind, and rainy days will always win us over in the end.

Well, there are many other pictures, but since time and motivation are lagging, I will end the post here. How happy I am to remember this lovely trip on today, our first anniversary.