Provence, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

La Verdiere – Les Chaumettes – Cannes, France

With that title, it sounds like more rainbows and lollipops. And, I have to admit, there is some of that. It’s just pretty darn nice around here. 

But you’ve already heard all about that. Enough of the love fest. Let’s get to the dirt . . .

Yes, France is pretty nice. But I feel it’s my duty to point out a few of the country’s idiosynchracies, shall we say.

To start, after being here a week or so we are convinced that the French do not actually eat food. 

There are fruit and vegetable markets around. Even some butcher shops. And, of course, patisseries. 

For sure people buy baguettes. There is no disputing that. Pretty much all French people have a baguette with them at all times. Strapped to their back. In their purse. Sticking out of their baby carriage. (Is there even a baby in there? Or is it just a big baguette-mobile?) But there’s a difference between buying and carrying bread, and actually eating it. 

Our theory is that the baguettes are really a weapon – essentially like a club. . I mean, the crust can be pretty robust. 

And as a country the French are not exactly known for their elite self-defense (see World War II. Okay, yes, there was Napoleon, but that was over 200 years ago, and he wasn’t even really French). So, maybe, from a French perspective, the baguette is a pretty good deterrent.

Now, other than baguettes, I’m not sure we really see French people buying anything resembling food. Seems like there are a lot of foreign people buying things. And, considering it’s France, and the French seem particularly concerned with appearances, maybe the farmer’s markets and bakery type things are just facades – designed to give that perfect Provence feel to the little towns and villages. 

We have never seen the French actually put any solid object in their mouths – except maybe wine glasses, cigarettes and coffee cups. Plenty of that. Lots of cafe in the morning. Wine in the evening – starting at about 4 and continuing to . . . well, well past our bed time. 

Supposedly, they eat late. But how late? I mean, we’re up to like 10 or so – and it seems to be all “Chardonnay this,” and “Merlot that . . .”

I guess you can get some calories from the wine. But, really, how can one really expect to live off of the stuff? Probably good for maintaining the stylish figure of the pretty young women. But hardly a good survival technique . . .

Along similar lines, we’re not sure that the French work at all. Things don’t seem to open early. And then they are closed from like noon to 3:30. Of course, you can’t find dinner from 4 – 8. So I guess they might work from like 8 p.m. – 9:15 p.m. or so? Something like that. But not on Saturdays, Sundays, or their numerous holidays. All in all, it’s probably a 6-hour work week – leaving plenty of time to become bitter that you’re stuck in this dead end job . . . But you have to stay another 23 years so that you qualify for the great pension . . .

Now, we thought for sure we would see some calorie intake at Cannes. So many people around for the festival . . .  

Sadly, I guess Trump swooped in at the last minute and announced that he had re-built the whole festival city on the Jersey shore.

”It isn’t right that the French have this festival,” he said. “America invented Coca Cola and the container that contains it. Of course the festival celebrating the can should be here.” 

He says the Jersey version is by far the best Cannes ever. 

And he’s the main attraction – because in his spare time he’s been filming a new action movie. He’s the star, of course. The premise is that he is the smartest and buffest guy in the world and he’s part of a superhero group with Putin and Kim Jong Un. They are called The Awesome Guys! – and that’s the name of the movie. 

In the original script they use karate to beat everyone up – but Trump pointed out that karate is not American, so now they just bazooka everyone in their path. All the reviews are great – which has nothing to do with the fact that Trump told the press he would have them killed if he didn’t get 10 thumbs up. 

Anyway, it’s kind of disappointing that Cannes has been cancelled. We might just fly directly to Newark to see all the action . . .

Shifting gears, last night we stayed at a pretty nice campground – Camping City. The place is owned by two sisters. We met one of them – Evelena – when we checked in. She said her dad started the place 40 years ago, and Evelena and her sister run it together now. Fortunately, they actually take tents there – kind of a rare thing with campgrounds in France. 

Camping City is near a freshwater lake and there were pictures of fishermen holding up big fish behind the front desk. Kind of cool. Kind of reminds me of home. 

Except the fish were carp! Huge, bottom feeding behemoths. Disgusting. 

Now, my friend Robert (pronounced roughly Row-Bear), who married our friend Sheryl, from Wisconsin, is originally from Provence. Robert has told me for years about the great fishing in France, where he’s from. But now that we’re actually here and I see that people are holding up carp like they’re trophy fish, I have to say that I’m not very impressed . . .

We have one other very mixed review of France. To start with the positive, the last few days it’s like we’ve been biking through a huge herb garden. Rosemary like you can’t believe. Huge bushes of the stuff. And it’s not like an isolated bush – whole hillsides of rosemary. It’s crazy. 

Same with thyme. We stopped for a quick bathroom break and I looked down and there it was. I was actually pretty proud of myself for recognizing it at all. I’ve grown it in our garden at home for a while now – but we don’t use it much and I’m definitely not a thyme expert. But I guess the Platonic form of thyme has been burned into my brain. 

Anyway, once we recognized it, we saw that it was everywhere. 

Sage and fennel. Same thing. Kind of growing all over the place around here. 

So now we have this whole pantry of herbs – ready to embellish our favorite meals. The problem is that you never know if these dumb campgrounds will allow a fire, or even have a grill at all. Camping City? No fires. No grills. In fact, when we asked Evelena about it she almost started hyperventilating. 

Definitely not allowed . . .

My question is, then, if the French don’t actually eat and they don’t allow grills or fire at the campsites, then what good are all the herbs? 

Kind of sad, really.

You want an update on our Corsica plan? Okay, okay. Makes sense. 

We are still going – but it turned out that we couldn’t get tickets on the ferry for tonight. We found some for tomorrow night instead. Which is probably better. Gave us an opportunity to come to Cannes, camp in between Cannes and Nice, and then explore Nice tomorrow.

Diana’s hoping that we’ll be able to slip in a showing of Mission Impossible 28, Will It Ever End? Because our ferry doesn’t leave until 11:30 p.m. or so . . . 

We’ll see. 

By the way, the riding has continued to be amazing. In addition to the herbs, there are rolling hills verging into small mountains. The mountains are covered with forest.

Which is additional evidence on the French Don’t Eat front. Basically all the agriculture, we’ve seen in France is grape arbors. No cows. No pigs. A few artichokes growing here and there – just enough to keep up appearances… Otherwise, just grape arbors.

Presumably for wine. 

Exactly what you would expect from a country that drinks copiously but doesn’t eat . . .

By the way. Cannes is pretty amazing. Nice markets. Beautiful beaches. Beautiful people.

Oh, one last thing . . . I still don’t understand how the French could have possibly liked Jerry Lewis. You remember him, right? Jerry’s Kids and Muscular Dystrophy. That stupid telethon he would do. What I don’t understand is why we ever watched that at all . . . I think if our kids saw five minutes of that they would question how we could say anything to them about staring at their cell phones . . .

It’s a good point. But at least we didn’t like the guy . . .