The smells of fresh baguettes and all the delicious foods at market (paella…rotisserie chickens dripping with goodness right down onto some fresh potatoes…mmmm). The tastes of jambon…and fresh cherries…and the most delicate chocolates…and freshest sweetest strawberries and oranges…the richness of the cheese…and the pastel meringues as big as your head (only slight exaggeration) that absolutely melt in your mouth…and oh the nutella (lol…yes…we smeared it on everything…even the meringue). The sound of horses walking down a country road and water flowing through the town and people bustling about at market and vendors offering a sample of their offerings and beautiful music filling the air. The view of the colors that pop out from every inch at market (yes…the market may have been my most favorite) and villages that peak out of a mountain or hillside and a nun riding down the road on her bicycle with her fresh baguette (and everyone with their bikes and fresh baguettes) and little bakeries and butchers and shops that filled the littlest of villages and clothes drying on the line and the older gentlemen sitting at the corner cafe for hours and the flowers and the history and a favorite little corner filled with herbs and tomato plants and flowers and the little surprises of beauty everywhere and fig trees poking out from the most random places and poppy fields (my favorite being one that included someone riding a white horse through it…yes that really happened) and tiny cobblestone streets and homes with blue shutters and pink roses. Mostly the slowness of the day to day and the laughter surrounding the table and feeling the love as each of our gifts were used to serve one another…a hand prepared meal most evenings…photos of new and old friends…a tiramisu and late night talks…videography and paintings and problem solving (which was greatly needed when the oil refineries shut down as part of strikes that were sweeping the country) and more laughter and cherries placed on our table each day and fresh olives and homemade wine and one of the most incredible meals ever prepared by ladies who run a winery….the people…the people. This is Provence France to me. It was a year ago that I was gifted with the incredible job (Heavens…I get to call this my job) of traveling there as part of the “Dream Team” for two weeks. Now, a week from today, I get to do it all over again in Tuscany. Tuscany! Oh…I’m already in love.
This trip and the last are about art and beauty and soul and the love of life and others and even more about service to others with the gifts each of us were given. I believe you would love to follow along on Dreama’s blog and learn from her beautiful work and soak in her beautiful words. You can see all about Once Upon a Time in Provence (which opens back up in September) at dreamatolleperry.com/dream-love-paint-the-adventure-continues/.
So much love to you,
Cilla
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