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Here are the tastingspoons players. I’m in the middle (Carolyn). Daughter Sara on the right, and daughter-in-law Karen on the left. I started the blog in 2007, as a way to share recipes with my family. Now in 2023, I’m still doing 99% of the blogging and holding out hope that these two lovely and excellent cooks will participate. They both lead very busy lives, so we’ll see.

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BOOK READING (from Carolyn):

Under the Java Moon, by Heather Moore. Sometimes these WWII books are tough to read. This is a true story (written as fiction, though) about a few Dutch families who are taken prisoner on Java Island, by the Japanese. Certainly it’s a story about unbelievable deprivation and sadness, but also about resilience too. Not everyone survives, as you could guess, but you’ll be rooting for young Rita who takes on so many responsibilities far beyond her 6-year old’s abilities. I read this because a dear friend of mine’s husband (now deceased) was in the Army during WWII and spent a lot of his duty in Indonesia and had horrific stories to tell about the weather and environment (awful!). A period of his life he liked to forget. The book certainly brings that period and place to the forefront. I’m glad I read it.

Never in a million years would I have picked up Blind Your Ponies, by Stanley Gordon West. If I’d read the cover or flap that the bulk of the story is about basketball, I’d have put it back on the shelf. But oh, this book is – yes, about basketball, but it’s about a place in time in Montana, a few decades ago, when a tiny town supported their high school team. It’s about a dream. About the town who believed in them. About a tall young man who comes to lives in the town, and his deliverance, really, from a pretty awful background as he plays basketball, when he’d never played before. It’s about relationships, marriages, families and about how this little team makes it. Such a great story and SO glad I read it.

A Girl Called Samson, by Amy Harmon. I’m a fan of anything written by Harmon, and this one delivered as all her books do. 1760, Massachusetts. Deborah Samson is an indentured servant but yearns for independence. From being a rather tall, skinny kid (a girl) to faking it as a young soldier (a young man) in the Continental army. You’ll marvel at her ability to hide her true self. It’s quite a story. She’s thrown into the worst of situations in the war and comes through with flying colors. You’ll find yourself rooting for her and also fearing mightily that she’s going to either get killed, or be “found out,” by some of the men. Riveting story beginning to end. There’s a love interest here too which is very sweet.

On Mystic Lake, by Kristin Hannah. This is a book Hannah wrote some years ago, and tells the story of a woman, Annie, who finds out (on the day their daughter goes off to a foreign land for an exchange quarter) that her husband is in love with another woman and leaves her. Annie, who has been the quintessential perfect corporate wife, is devastated. She felt blind-sided. She cries and wallows, but eventually she returns home to her small town, where her widowed dad lives, in Washington. There she runs into many people she knew and at first feels very out of place. Slowly, she finds the town more welcoming and she helps a previous boyfriend, now widowed with his young daughter. A connection is there. Annie has to find herself, and she definitely does that. Her husband rears his head (of course he does!) after several months, and Annie has to figure out what to do. I don’t want to give away the story. Lots of twists and turns.

The Vineyard, by Barbara Delinsky. A novel with many current day issues. Husband and wife own a vineyard in Rhode Island. Husband dies. Widow soon (too soon) marries the manager, a hired employee, much to the consternation of her two grown children. Widow hires woman as personal assistant (much of the book comes from her voice) and she gets entangled into the many webs, clinging from the many decades the winery has tried to be successful. Really interesting. Lots of plot twists, but all revolving around work of the vineyard. Cute love story too. It wouldn’t be a Delinsky book without that aspect.

Consequences, Penelope Lively. I’ve always loved this author’s writing style. Have read many of her books. This one follows a rather dotted line family, the women, as they grow through worn-torn London and England. There’s poverty and both major events and minor ones that send the story’s trajectory in new directions. Riveting for me. Lively won the Booker Prize for Moon Tiger, her most famous book.

Below Zero, C.J. Box. Mystery of the first order. A Joe Pickett novel (he’s a game warden in Wyoming) with a family member thought dead is suddenly alive. Or is she? Joe’s on the hunt to find out. I don’t read these books at night – too scary. I love his books, though.

Consolations of the Forest: Alone in a Cabin on the Siberian Taiga, by Sylvain Tesson. I’m not sure what possessed me to read this book. About a late 30s guy who seems to crave solitude; he’s offered a 11×11 cabin in the cold/frozen Siberian outback, on a huge lake that freezes over in winter. Here’s a quote from the book: “A visit to my wooden crates. My supplies are dwindling. I have enough pasta left for a month and Tabasco to drench it in. I have flour, tea and oil. I’m low on coffee. As for vodka, I should make it to the end of April.” Vodka plays large in this book. Tesson (who is French, with Russian heritage) is a gifted writer, about the wilderness, the flora and fauna, about the alone-ness, the introspection. Mostly he ate pasta with Tabasco. No other sauce. Many shots of vodka every day. Drunkenness plays a serious role too – what else is there to do, you might ask? He lived there for about a year. I’d have lasted a week, no more.

The Auburn Conference by Tom Piazza. Another one, given my druthers I’m not sure I’d have picked up. For one of my book clubs. Excellent writing. 1883, upstate NY. A young professor decides to make a name for himself and puts on an event, inviting many literary luminaries of the day (Mark Twain, Frederick Douglass, Herman Melville, Forrest Taylor and a romance novelist [the outlier] Lucy Comstock). Part panel discussion, part private conversations, the author weaves a tale of discord, some moderate yelling, some rascism and much ridicule of the romance novelist. Also some words of wisdom, maybe not from the authors you’d have expected. Unusual book.

As Bright as Heaven, by Susan Meissner. 1918. Philadelphia. About a young family arriving with the highest of hopes. Then the Spanish Flu hits and dashes everything. You’ll learn a whole lot about that particular virulent flu and the tragic aftermath. Really good read.

Hour of the Witch, by Chris Bohjalian. Boston, 1662. A young woman becomes the 2nd wife of a powerful man, a cruel man. She determines to leave him, something just “not done” back then. Twists and turns, she’s accused of being a witch. Story of survival, and a redeeming love too.

My Oxford Year, by Julia Whelan. At 24, a young woman is honored with a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford. She’s older than most of her fellow classmates, and as an American, doesn’t fit in very well. She’s left a good job back home, but determines to try to work some for the political campaign job she’s left, and also do the work for her Oxford scholarship. She meets a professor. Oh my. Such an interesting book. I loved learning about the culture of Oxford, and there’s a fascinating romance too, somewhat a forbidden one with said professor.

Madame Pommery, by Rebecca Rosenberg. I love champagne. Have read a number of books over the years (novels) about the region (and I’ve visited there once). This is real history, though in a novelized form. Madame Pommery was widowed, and determined she would blaze a trail that was not well received (no women in the champagne business for starters). And she decides to make a different, less sweet version. She’s hated and reviled, but sticks to her guns, veering away from the then very sweet version all the winemakers were producing. Fascinating story.

The Wager, by David Grann. A true tale of shipwreck, mutiny and murder back in the 1740s. Not exactly my usual genre of reading, but once I heard about the book, I decided I needed to read it. This is a novelized version of the story, based on the facts of an English shipwreck, first off Brazil, then later off Chile. Of the men, their struggle to survive (and many didn’t). Yes, there’s murder involved, and yes, there’s mutiny as well. Those who survived stood trial back in England many years later. Riveting read.

Before We Were Yours, by Lisa Wingate. 1939. A shantyboat in the backwaters of the Mississippi River. A 12-year old girl is left to care for her younger siblings when her mother is taken ill. A mystery ensues, and soon officials chase these youngsters to take them into an orphanage, one that became infamous for “selling” the children, weaving wild tales of their provenance. Dual timeline, you read about a successful young attorney who returns home to help her father, and questions come up about the family history. Fascinating read. You’ll learn about this real abominable woman, Georgia Tann, who profited by her “sales.”

The Vaster Wilds, by Lauren Goff. This tells the story of a young servant girl, in the aftermath of the starvation in Jamestown, the beleaguered town that virtually disappeared because the people weren’t prepared for the harshness of survival in those days. She escapes before the demise of the town and heads west, with nothing but the clothes she’s wearing. She survives longer than you might think, and encounters a lot of interesting experiences and people. Very interesting historical read.

Lady Tan’s Circle of Woman, Lisa See. Historical fiction, from 1469, Ming Dynasty, China. Based on the true story, however, about a young woman mostly raised by her grandmother who is a well known physician. Her grandfather is a scholarly physician, her grandmother, more an herbalist, or like a pharmacist of the day. Tan eventually marries into a family and is immediately subjugated by the matriarch, who won’t allow her to practice any of her healing arts. Quite a story, and also about how she eventually does treat women (women “doctors” were only allowed to treat women) as a midwife and herbalist. You’ll learn a whole lot about the use of flowers and herbs for healing and about the four humors.

Winter Garden, by Kristen Hannah. Quite a story, taking place in Washington State with apple orchards forming a backdrop and family business. Two sisters, never much friends even when they were young, return home to help care for their ailing father. Their mother? What an enigma. She took no part in raising them, yet she lived in the home. She cooked for the family, but rarely interacted. Yet her father adored his wife, their mother. How do they bridge the gulf between each other and also with their mother. Another page turner from Kristen Hannah.

Trail of the Lost, by Andrea Lankford. Not my usual genre. This is nonfiction, about Lankford who has plenty of credentials for rescue services, and is an avid hiker herself, determines to try to find some missing people who have disappeared off the face of the earth on the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s about how rescues work, everything from the disconnect between active citizens who want to help, and seemingly the unwillingness of authorities to share information. Not exactly a positive for law enforcement in this book. Really fascinating. There are hundreds of people who have disappeared off various long hike trails in the U.S. This is about four who were hiking (separately and at different times) on the PCT.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin. I’ve never been a “gamer.” Not by any standard definition, anyway. Not like people who really get into games, adventure, killers, etc. And this book isn’t a game .. . but it’s a novel (and a great story, I might add) about how these games come into being. How they’re invented, how they morph. First there were two college students, then a third person is added, and they end up creating a wildly popular game. A company is born. And it goes from there. Mostly it’s about the people, their relationships, but set amidst the work of creating and running a gaming company. Not all fun and games, pun intended.

Remarkably Bright Creatures, by Shelby Van Pelt. Oh gosh, what a fabulous book. It’s a novel; however, much of the story is about the intelligence of octopus. In particular this one, Marcellus, who lives in an aquarium in a fictitious town in western Washington State. More than anything the book is about relationships, not only Marcellus with a woman (of a certain age) who cleans the aquarium at night, but the various people in this small town.

Trust, by Herman Diaz. This novel is an enigma in so many ways. It’s a book, within a book, within a book. About the stock market crash back in 1929, but it’s about a man. Oh my. It’s really interesting. This book won the Pulitzer. That’s why I bought it.

Cassidy Hutchinson is a young woman (a real one) who works in politics or “government.” She’s worked for some prestigious Washington politicians, and ended up working for Trump. The book is a memoir of her short spin working at the highest levels, and obviously at the White House. She worked under Mark Meadows and suffered a lot of ridicule when she quit. Truth and lies . . . when she couldn’t live with herself and subvert the truth. Enough, gives you plenty of detail leading up to and after the January 6th uprising. She testified to Congress about what she knew. Really interesting. I almost never read books about politics because I think many (most?) of our elected politicians succumb to the lure of power and forget who they work for, us, the public.

Becoming Dr. Q, by Alfredo Quiñones-Hinojosa, MD, is an Associate Professor of Neurosurgery and Oncology at Johns Hopkins University. This is his memoir about how he went from being a penniless migrant from Mexico to one of the world’s most renowned experts in brain tumors.

The Invincible Miss Cust, by Penny Haw.  In 1868 Ireland, a woman wasn’t allowed to attend veterinary school, much less become a veterinarian. It took  years of trying (to the horror of her aristocratic family) and finally someone took her under their wing, she enrolled using a pseudonym (a name not revealing her gender). This is a true story of Aleen Isabel Cust, who did just that.

Her Heart for a Compass, by Sarah Ferguson (yes), the Duchess of York. I was pleasantly surprised as I read this book that it wasn’t the usual romantic romp – there’s more to this story than you might think. Ferguson utilizes some of her family ancestors as real characters in the book. Sweet story but with lots of twists and turns.

Someone Else’s Shoes, by Jojo Moyes.Nisha, our heroine, is a wealthy socialite. She thinks her life is perfect. At the gym someone else grabs her gym bag, so she grabs the similar one. Then she finds out her husband is leaving her and he’s locked her out of their high-rise apartment. She’s penniless. No attorney will take her on. She has nothing but this gym bag belonging to someone else (who?).

The Eleventh Man, Ivan Doig. What a story. Ben, part of a Montana college football team in the 1940s, joins the service during WWII. So do all of his eleven teammates. After suffering some injuries in pilot training he is recruited by a stealthy military propaganda machine. His job is to write articles about his teammates as they are picked off at various battle theaters around the Pacific and Europe. Ben goes there, in person, to fuel the stories. Ivan Doig is a crafty writer; I’ve read several of his books, my favorite being The Whistling Season.

Wavewalker, by Suzanne Heywood. Oh my goodness. A memoir about a very young English girl who goes off with her besotted and narcissistic parents and her brother on a years-long sailing journey supposedly following the route of James Cook. A very old, decrepit 70-foot schooner. Four people, 2 sort-of adults and 2 children. Sometimes a helper or two. A seasick mother. A dad who is driven to the extreme, whatever the damage he creates. She spent 10 years aboard.

Claire Keegan wrote Small Things Like These. It’s won a lot of awards, and shortlisted for the Booker Prize. Takes place in Ireland. Some profound questions come up in this novella, about complicity, about restitution. There’s a convent nearby, and attached one of those places young girls were sent if they found themselves “in the family way,” and about how the church helped, supposedly, by taking the children and placing them in homes, without consent. It’s ugly, the truth of the matter. Really good read.

Nicholas Sparks isn’t an author I read very often because his books are pretty sappy, but daughter Sara recommended this one, The Longest Ride. It begins with Ira (age 93), stuck in his car as it plunges off the edge of a road, and it’s snowing. As the hours tick by, he reminisces about his life.

The Neuroscientist Who Lost Her Mind, by Barbara Lipska. Interesting that I’ve read two books recently about the brain (see Doctor Q above). This is a true story about a woman, a neuroscientist, who developed a metastatic melanoma in the brain.

The Price of Inheritance, by Karin Tanabe. This is a mystery, of sorts. Our heroine is an up and coming employee at Christie’s (auction house). In bringing a large collection of expensive art to auction, she makes a misstep about the provenance of a desk. She’s fired. She goes back to her roots, takes a job at a small antique store where she used to work.

The Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese. Did you read Cutting for Stone, years ago, by this author? Such a good book, so I knew I’d enjoy this one, and oh, did I!. The book takes place in a little known area of southern India, and chronicles a variety of people over a few generations, who inhabit the place.

Finding Dorothy, by Elizabeth Letts. My friend Dianne recommended this book to me, and it was so special. Loved it beginning to end. It’s based on the story of 77-year old Maud Gage Baum (her husband Frank Baum wrote The Wizard of Oz).

The Bandit Queens, by Parini Shroff. It’s about a young Indian woman, Geeta, as she tries her best to make a living after her husband leaves her. Yet the community she lives in, thinks Geeta murdered him.

Attribution, by Linda Moore. We follow art historian Cate, as she struggles to succeed in her chosen field against sexist advisors. She finds what she thinks is a hidden painting.

The Measure, Nikki Erlick. Oh my goodness. This story grabbed me from about the third sentence. Everyone in the world finds a wooden box on their doorstep, or in front of their camper or tent, that contains a string. Nothing but a string. The author has a vivid imagination (I admire that) and you just will not believe the various reactions (frenzy?) from people who are short-stringers, or long-stringers.

The Book Spy by Alan Hlad. True stories, but in novel form, of a special Axis group of men and women librarians and microfilm specialists, sent to strategic locations in Europe to acquire and scour newspapers, books, technical manuals and periodicals, for information about German troop locations, weaponry and military plans of WWII. I was glued to the book beginning to end. Fascinating accounts.

A Dangerous Business, Jane Smiley. What a story. 1850s gold rush, story of two young prostitutes, finding their way in a lawless town in the Wild West. There’s a murder, or two, or three, or some of the town’s prostitutes, and the two women set out to solve the crime.

Storm Watch, by C. J. Box. I’m such a fan of his tales of Wyoming Game Warden Joe Pickett’s adventures catching criminals. Loved it, just like I’ve loved every one of his books.

Defiant Dreams, by Sola Mahfouz. True story about the author, born in Afghanistan in 1996. This is about her journey to acquire an education. It’s unbelievable what the Taliban does to deter and forbid women from bettering themselves.

Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh. This is fairly light read, a novel – but interesting, about the meaning behind many flowers.

The Rome Apartment, by Kerry Fisher. Such a cute story. Maybe not an interesting read for a man. It’s about Beth, whose husband has just left her, and her daughter has just gone off to college. Beth needs a new lease on life, so she rents a room from a woman who lives in Rome.

All the Beauty in the World, a memoir by Patrick Bringley. Absolutely LOVED this book. Bringley was at loose ends and accepted a job as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC. He’d been a journalist at The New Yorker magazine, but after his brother was ill and died, he needed refreshing. After his training at the museum, he moves from room to room, guarding the precious art, and learning all about the pieces and the painters or sculptors.

The Queen’s Lady, by Joanna Hickson. I love stories about Tudor England, and this one didn’t disappoint. Joan Guildford is a lady in waiting to Queen Elizabeth. Oh my goodness are there twists and turns.

Once in awhile I’m ready to read another Louise Penny mystery. This time it was World of Curiosities. Usually I’d write something wonderful regarding “another tome about Three Pines.” Not going to say it this time. Three Pines becomes a sinister place. Murders (many).

Over the years I’ve read many of Jodi Picoult’s books. This, her newest, or very new, is called Mad Honey. Oh, my. This book is beyond Picoult’s usual borders, but then she always writes edgy books. That’s her genre. This one is written with a co-author, a woman who is gay (I think) and also a trans-gender.

Philippa Gregory is one of my fav authors. Just finished her 3rd (and last, I think) in the Fairmile series called Dawnlands. If you scroll down below you’ll find the 2nd book in the series, Tidelands. Very interesting about English history, but about the same families from the first book in the group. Loved it, as I loved all of them.

Am currently reading Rutherfurd’s long, long book, Paris. I love these involved historical novels about a place (he’s written many about specific places in the world). It’s a saga that goes back and forth in time, following the travails of various people and families, through thick and thin. Some of it during the era of the King Louis’ (plural, should I say Louies?). Very interesting about some of the city’s history and royalty.

Although this book says A Christmas Memory, by Richard Paul Evans, it’s not just about Christmas. A young boy is the hero here, but really an older widower man who lives next door plays a pivotal part of this book.

Wish You Were Here, by Jodi Picoult. Another page-turner. I loved this book. A thirty-something woman, about to take a trip with her boyfriend, when Covid breaks out. Covid plays a major role in this book, beginning to end. She decides to go anyway as her boyfriend is a doctor and cannot leave. She ends up on a remote Galapagos island, and you go along with her – with people she meets, the life she leads, the isolation she experiences, the loneliness she feels, but the joy of nature is a sustaining aspect.

Not everyone wants to read food memoirs. When I saw Sally Schmitt had written a memoir, titled Six California Kitchens, I knew I wanted to read it. I met Sally a few times over the years when I visited Napa Valley, and bought some of her famous pickled items, chutneys, jams, etc. She was the original chef at The French Laundry, before it became truly famous by Thomas Keller.

Being a fan of Vivian Howard (from her TV show), when I saw she’d written another book, I knew I should buy it. This Will Make It Taste Good is such an unusual name for a cookbook, but once you get into the groove of the book, you’ll understand. What’s here are recipes for some “kitchen heroes” she calls them. They’re condiments. They’re food additions, they’re flavor enhancers.

As soon as it came out, I ordered Spare, by Prince Harry. I’ve always been interested in the Royal Family.

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri. Usually I don’t seek out short stories. I might have purchased this book without realizing it was. There aren’t that many stories – each one gets you very ingrained in the characters. I love her writing, and would think each story in this book could be made into a full-fledged novel.

A Lantern in Her Hand, by Beth Streeter Aldrich. A very interesting and harrowing story of early pioneer days in the Midwest (Nebraska I think); covered wagon time up to about 80 years later as the heroine, Abbie Deal, and her husband start a family in a small town.

The Messy Lives of Book People, by Phaedra Patrick. From amazon’s page: Mother of two Liv Green barely scrapes by as a maid to make ends meet, often finding escape in a good book while daydreaming of becoming a writer herself. So she can’t believe her luck when she lands a job housekeeping for her personal hero, mega-bestselling author Essie Starling, a mysterious and intimidating recluse.

Four Seasons in Rome by Anthony Doerr. I’m a fan of this author and relished reading his book about a year in his personal life, with his wife and very new, newborn twins. Doerr was given an auspicious award – a year of study in Rome, with apartment and a stipend. There are four chapters, by season.

Kristin Hannah’s Distant Shores is quite a read. Some described it as like a soap opera. Not me. Interesting character development of a couple who married young. She put her own career/wants/desires aside to raise their children. He forged ahead with his life dreams. The children grow up and move on. Then he’s offered a huge promotion across the country. She’s torn – she doesn’t want to be in New York, but nothing would get in the way of his career.

Oh, William! by Elizabeth Strout. Lucy Barton is divorced. But she’s still sort of friendly with her ex. It’s complicated. Out of the blue he asks her to go on a trip with him to discover something about his roots.

Tidelands,  by Philippa Gregory. It tells the tale of a peasant woman, Alinor (an herbalist and midwife), who lives barely above the poverty level, trying to raise two children, during the time of great turmoil in England, the rancorous civil war about Charles 1.

Read Reminders of Him, by Colleen Hoover. A page turner of a story. A young woman is convicted of a crime (young and foolish type). Once released her sole purpose is to be a part of her daughter’s life.

The Last Anniversary by Liane Moriarty. Oh my goodness. The wicked webs we weave. How in the world did the author even come UP with this wild story, but she did, and it kept me glued. Sophie walked away from her wedding day, and always wondered if she made the wrong decision.

Very funny and poignant story, Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, by Elizabeth Taylor (no, not that one). Mrs. Palfrey, a woman of a certain age, moves into an old folks’ home in London. It’s a sort of hotel, but has full time elderly quirky residents.

For one of my book clubs we read Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus. This book is so hard to describe. Elizabeth is a wizard at chemistry and struggles to be recognized for her intelligence and research. She meets a man at her company who is brilliant too. They make quite a pair. They have a child, then he suddenly dies. Her work isn’t taken seriously, so she leaves her employment and becomes an overnight phenom on a cooking show where she uses the chemical names for things like sodium chloride, etc. You go alongside her struggles, and her raising of her daughter. LOTS of humor, lots to discuss for a book club.

Horse. Oh my, is it a page turner. Loved it from the first page to the last. Sad when it ended. It’s a fictional creation but based on a real racehorse owned by a black man, back in the 1850s. Technically, the story is about a painting of the horse but there are many twists and turns. If you’ve ever enjoyed Brooks’ books in the past, this one won’t disappoint.

The Book of Lost Names, by Kristin Harmel (no, not Hannah). Certainly a little-known chunk of history about a woman who becomes a master forger during WWII to help get Jewish children out of France. Not easy to read, meaning the difficulty of anyone finding the means and place to DO the forgery and right under the noses of the Nazis. Really good read.

Liane Moriarty’s first novel, Three Wishes, follows the travails of adult triplets, so different, yet similar in many ways. Two are identical, the third is not. So alike, and so not. It takes you through a series of heart-wrenching events, seemingly unrelated, but ones that could bring a family to its breaking point and test the bonds of love and strength.

Recently I’ve read both of Erin French’s books, her cookbook, The Lost Kitchen, and since then her memoir, Finding Freedom. About her life growing up (difficult) about her coming of age mostly working in the family diner, flipper burgers and fries (and learning how much she liked to cook). Now she’s a very successful restaurant entrepreneur (The Lost Kitchen is also the name of her restaurant) in the minuscule town of Freedom, Maine. She’s not a classically trained chef, but she’s terrifically creative. See her TV series on Discover+ if you subscribe.

Jo Jo Moyes has a bunch of books to her credit. And she writes well, with riveting stories. Everything I’ve read of hers has been good. This book, The Girl You Left Behind, is so different, so intriguing, so controversial and a fascinating historical story. There are two timelines here, one during WWI, in France, when a relatively unknown painter (in the style of Matisse) paints a picture of his wife. The war intervenes for both the husband and the wife.

Eli Shafak’s Island of Missing Trees. This book was just a page turner. If you’ve never read anything about the conflict in Cyprus (the island) between the Turks and the Greeks, you’re in for a big history lesson here. But, the entire story centers around a fig tree. You get into the head/brain/feelings of this big fig tree which plays a very central part of the story. You’ll learn a lot about animals, insects (ants, mosquitos, butterflies) and other flora and fauna of Cyprus.

Also read Apples Never Fall by Liane Moriarty. Ohhh my, such a good book. I couldn’t put it down. Whatever you do, do not read the ending before you start the book. I’ve never understood people who do this. The book chronicles the day a mom just ups and disappears. The grown children come back home, in panic. The dad isn’t much help, and he becomes the prime suspect of foul play. There is no body, however.

If you’d like a mystery read, try Dete Meserve’s The Space Between. It’s just the kind of page-turner I enjoy – a wife returns to her home after being away on business for a few days, to find her husband missing and what he’s left for her is an unexplained bank deposit of a million dollars, a loaded Glock in the nightstand, and a video security system that’s been wiped clean.

Read Alyson Richman’s historical novel called The Velvet Hours. Most of the book takes place in Paris, with a young woman and her grandmother, a very wealthy (but aging) woman who led a life of a semi-courtesan. Or at least a kept woman. But this grandmother was very astute and found ways to invest her money, to grow her money, and to buy very expensive goods. Then WWII intervenes, and the granddaughter has to close up her grandmother’s apartment, leaving it much the way it had been throughout her grandmother’s life, to escape the Nazis. Years go by, and finally answers are sought and found. An intriguing book, based on the author’s experience with an apartment that had been locked up similarly for decades, also in Paris.

Susan Meissner is one of my favorite authors. This book, The Nature of Fragile Things tells a very unusual story. About a young Irish immigrant, desperate to find a way out of poverty, answers an ad for a mail order bride.

Also read Rachel Hauck’s The Writing Desk. You could call this a romance. A young professional, a writer of one successful book, has writer’s block. Then she’s asked to go to Florida to help her mother (from whom she’s mostly estranged) through chemo. She goes, hoping she can find new inspiration.

Also recently finished The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish. The book goes backwards and forwards in time, from the 1600s in London with the day-to-day lives of a group of Jews (who had to be very careful about how they worshiped) to current day as an old house is discovered to hold a treasure-trove of historical papers.

Colleen Hoover has written quite a book, It Ends with Us: A Novel, with a love story being the central theme, but again, this book is not for everyone – it can be an awakening for any reader not acquainted with domestic violence and how such injury can emerge as innocent (sort of) but then becomes something else. There is graphic detail here.

Nicolas Barreau’s novel Love Letters from Montmartre: A Novel  is very poignant, very sweet book. Seems like I’ve read several books lately about grieving; this one has a charming ending, but as anyone who has gone through a grave loss of someone dear knows, you can’t predict day to day, week to week. “Snap out of it,” people say, thinking they’re helping.

Another very quirky book, that happens to contain a lot of historical truth is The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World: A Novel by Harry N. Abrams. Set in Japan just after the tsunami 10 years ago when 18,000 people died. At a private park miles away, some very special people installed a phone booth, with a phone (that didn’t work) at the edge of the park, and the survivors of the tsunami began wending their way there to “talk” to their deceased loved ones. Very poignant story.

No question, the most quirky book I’ve read of late, a recommendation from my friend Karen, West with Giraffes: A Novel by Lynda Rutledge. Back in the 1930s a small group of giraffes were brought across the Atlantic from Africa to New York, destined for the then-growing San Diego Zoo. The story is of their journey across the United States in the care of two oh-so-different people, both with a mission.

Could hardly put down Krueger’s book, This Tender Land: A Novel. Tells the harrowing story of a young boy, Odie, (and his brother Albert) who became orphans back in the 30s. At first there is a boarding school, part of an Indian (Native American) agreement, though they are not Indian. They escape, and they are “on the run.”

Just finished Kristin Hannah’s latest book, The Four Winds: A Novel. What a story. One I’ve never read about, although I certainly have heard about the “dust bowl” years when there was a steady migration of down-and-out farmers from the Midwest, to California, for what they hoped to be the American Dream. It tells the story of one particular family, the Martinellis, the grandparents, their son, his wife, and their two children.

Also finished reading Sue Monk Kidd’s recent book, The Book of Longings: A Novel. It is a book that might challenge some Christian readers, as it tells the tale of Jesus marrying a woman named Mary. I loved the book from the first word to the last one. The book is believable to me, even though the Bible never says one way or the other that Jesus ever married. It’s been presumed he never did. But maybe he did?

Jeanine Cummins has written an eye-opener, American Dirt. A must read. Oh my goodness. I will never, ever, ever look at Mexican (and further southern) migrants, particularly those who are victims of the vicious cartels, without sympathy. It tells the story of a woman and her young son, who were lucky enough to hide when the cartel murdered every member of her family – her husband, her mother, and many others. It’s about her journey and escape to America.

Also read JoJo Moyes’ book, The Giver of Stars. Oh gosh, what a GREAT book. Alice joins the Horseback Librarians in the rural south.

Frances Liardet has written a blockbuster tale, We Must Be Brave. I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Although the scene is WWII England, this book is not really about the war. It’s about the people at home, waiting it out, struggling with enough food, clothing and enough heat.

William Kent Krueger wrote Ordinary Grace. From amazon: a brilliantly moving account of a boy standing at the door of his young manhood, trying to understand a world that seems to be falling apart around him. It is an unforgettable novel about discovering the terrible price of wisdom and the enduring grace of God. It’s a coming of age story.

A Column of Fire: A Novel by Ken Follett. It takes place in the 1500s, in England, and has everything to do with the war between the Catholics and the Protestants, that raged throughout Europe during that time, culminating in the Spanish Inquisition.

My Name Is Resolute by Nancy Turner. She’s the author of another book of some renown, These is my Words:

The Shepherd’s Life: Modern Dispatches from an Ancient Landscape by James Rebanks. This is a memoir, so a true story, of a young man growing up in the Lake District of Northern England, who becomes a shepherd. Not just any-old shepherd – actually a well educated one. He knows how to weave a story.

 

Tasting Spoons

My blog's namesake - small, old and some very dented engraved silver plated tea spoons that belonged to my mother-in-law, and I use them to taste my food as I'm cooking.

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Posted in Travel, on October 23rd, 2015.

duffle_bagI should have taken at least one picture of my stuffed-to-the-gills duffle bag. This I took after I got home, after I’d unloaded most of what was in it. The duffle bag is about 21 inches long, about 12-13 inches in diameter. It does have a flat bottom, and each end has a pocket. Sticking out of the bag is my folded up safari hat and the top edge of a yellow manila folder that had trip documents (not tickets) inside.

Some safari camps allow more luggage, but because we took small puddle-jumper single-engine planes 3-4 times between camps, they, the fixed-wing charter airline (Mack Air) had a limit on the size and weight of the bags. Everywhere we went there were 16 of those bags piled up on the runway, beside the game drive Land Rovers. The only difference between them were the yarn tags hanging from the ends – one of our gals knit them for us, so we could identify our bags quickly. Fortunately, at every camp and hotel the staff delivered the bags to our rooms for us.

Abercrombie & Kent provided the bags. And they provided a list of things we could take on the trip. Here’s what I took: 2 pairs of cropped pants (cotton, both beige), 2 t-shirts, both beige, a few changes of underwear, a jacket for cooler nights (never used) and a rain jacket (also never used). I took a safari vest my friend Linda loaned me, but it was SO hot I only used it one day. Linda loaned me a long-sleeved safari shirt too, which was also required and I used it a lot. Also took a pair of pajamas, some took a bathing suit (I didn’t; I just used one of my outfits when I used the pools). We wore one pair of shoes (sandals, heavy-duty type, not strappy type) and packed a pair of closed-toed shoes. Some took tennis shoes (mostly the men), but I took a pair of Skechers (left them behind at our last stop as I didn’t like them) and also took a pair of flip-flops. All of our liquid toiletries had to fit into ONE quart-sized plastic bag. I took sunscreen, mascara, eye liner, brow color, one lipstick, one tube of lip moisturizer, makeup remover, my nightly nasal spray, mosquito repellant. No shampoo (it was provided), no hair spray, no gel, no perfume. I took my Kindle (read 5 books as I think I mentioned), my iPad mini (played some games during the hot afternoons), and my iPod (that I listen to when I am trying to go to sleep). I took my big honkin’ camera (Canon Rebel xSi, the one I use for all my blog photos) with the standard lens, not the zoom – there was no way I could have handled that on this trip. Fortunately we were able to charge our devices in most places. Some took a phone. I didn’t. I had to make room for my charging cords and an extra battery, an extra card for my camera and a wall plug that would fit into the southern Africa electricity. And then, I had the outfit I flew in (and wore every day I was in Dubai, and wore it a couple of nights at the safari camps) and then I wore it on the long journey home. I wished I’d taken some hair gel as those safari hats wreak havoc with any hairdo. I had my hair cut very short for this trip so all I had to do was comb it and it dried in about 2 minutes because it was so hot there.

The shampoo in all of the stays was hard on my hair. I guess I should have packed some of my own (we were told not to), but my bag was already very full. I also took a Baggalini purse, of course, which was packed solidly, and I put a few things in a tote bag I carried on. It wasn’t big or heavy; my purse would actually fit in it if necessary. I think I was the only person who took an extra small bag. At the end of the trip I left behind all of my clothes that I could, which left a bit of room to buy a couple of trinkets. I’ll show them to you eventually. Cute animal figures done in wire and beading; also a balsa wood zebra. I left the tote bag behind and was able to fit my camera and my 5×6 notebook in a very small paper bag with handles given to us at one of the camps.

Image result for amarulaIn the Johannesburg airport, en route home, Gwenda, my roommate, and I visited the duty free and both bought Amarula, a delicious liqueur similar to Bailey’s Irish Cream, except this is made from the fruit of the Marula tree. It was offered to us daily at the camps, to drink in our coffee when we stopped for refreshments on the morning game drives. That’s when I started drinking it – this at about 10:30 in the morning. It was lovely in the coffee.

When we went through security in Dubai (on the way home) I got flagged for a random check. I was with 3 other people from our trip, and they made them go on ahead of me, but they wouldn’t let me take my Amarula with me. I was SO upset – it wasn’t that I couldn’t have it, it was that when you’re flagged by security you can’t take alcohol there. Why, I don’t know! I thought they were going to confiscate it, but they didn’t. Anyway, I was escorted to another floor of the building and they took a swab all over my clothing and sent it through a machine. When I was finished they put me in an elevator which promptly locked me in and I couldn’t make it go to a floor or even move. Finally had to press an alarm bell to get someone to come. The elevator required a special pass only held by the security staff. Obviously I passed the security check and was let out of “prison.” What was funny was that they told the others in my group that I was taken “prisoner.” Gwenda was very distraught. Fortunately they allowed her to carry my Amarula so I managed to get it home after all.

It doesn’t taste like  Bailey’s – it doesn’t have chocolate in it – but it’s a cream-based drink. Altogether lovely. Gwenda bought 4 bottles and got someone else to take 2 of them through customs for her. I had 2 bottles (in a 2-pack cardboard case). The customs official did ask me about it – I assured him it wasn’t straight alcohol. Am not sure but I may have bought too much, but the guy smiled at me and winked and let me go through. THANK YOU, kind sir!

I haven’t had any of it since I got home – I don’t generally drink coffee at night, but my friend Joe will be coming to visit in a week or so, and I know he’ll have some with me. The marula tree fruit is bitter, so they must add sugar or some kind of sweetening to it, then the cream. There’s a photo of the marula fruit, from Wikipedia.

On the trip I drank a gin and tonic almost every day. They’re so very refreshing in hot weather, and oh my, was it ever hot on this trip. I don’t think we had a single day when it was less than about 100° F. Miserable. Absolutely miserable. But the gin and tonic helped! On a regular, daily basis I don’t drink at all anymore. I used to drink wine most evenings – a glass only – I’m a lightweight, always have been, but I didn’t have wine anytime on the trip. It was free to everyone, but I passed. Coke Light was my drink of choice, with LOTS of ice.

Since I got home, in between feeling lousy with jet lag (it’s 9 hours difference between Los Angeles time and Botswana time), trying to sleep (not well, except last night, finally) and trying to take care of necessities, I’ve been sorting and organizing my photos. I’ve just finished them today, so now will begin to tell you all the stories of my trip. Stay tuned.

Posted in Travel, on October 21st, 2015.

camel_dubai_art

I’ve just returned, last night, from 2 weeks in Africa, on safari, and 2 days at the beginning of the trip, in Dubai. I’ve only begun to download all my photos from my camera. I’ve got one good night of sleep under my belt, am sipping on my first cup of coffee with cream (the cream unheard of anywhere on the trip), and will begin in earnest to work on my photos. I have hundreds to sort through, many of which will go into the computer trash. The above picture I took in a gift shop in Dubai – it was a big canvas print and I thought the art itself was so interesting. No, I didn’t buy it – I had no place whatsoever, to put a tube of canvas prints! On the entire trip we never saw a camel, but it at least is representative of the African continent.

We spent (I use the collective “we” because I was with a group of 16 – and I had a roommate, Gwenda,  – and we did everything together) 2 days and 2 nights in Dubai (enough), then flew to Johannesburg, where we stayed at a magnificent hotel (the Saxon), then took a flight to Livingstone, in Zambia, and began a journey to 5 different safari camps (most of them in Botswana), some more luxurious than others and I’ll be telling you all about them. One camp was accessible via LandRover (or LandCruiser, whichever), but the others were accessed only via very small puddle-jumper planes on very short, compacted dirt and sand landing strips. Sometimes the flights were longer (an hour), sometimes as short as 10-15 minutes.

And, believe it or not, I’m going to share some recipes too. We had fabulous food – I can’t fault any of our camps for their food – they did wonders with what they had available. I don’t suppose broccoli and cauliflower are common to the African people, but we had it often. There were combinations of foods I’d not considered doing, but it worked there. In coming days or week or two I’ll be sharing a cookie recipe – I just called them safari cookies. We had hot soup nearly every evening on the trip, and I’ll be sharing a recipe for a carrot, ginger and lime soup that was exceptional. And we had a delicious hummus that I want to make. If any of you have read my blog for awhile, I made a categorical statement recently that I’m “over” being infatuated with hummus. But THIS hummus was different. I’ll make it sometime soon. We had lots of butternut squash – that must be a staple available in Africa. We had beautiful fruit (melons, papaya, oranges, limes, lemons and green apples) that must have come from South Africa. I ate a cooked breakfast nearly every morning (generally I had 2 poached eggs or sunny side up ones) with wonderful, fresh breads, and sometimes bacon or sausage. We had lots of beef, pork, kudu, chicken, guinea fowl, even some fish. Vegetarian options were available everywhere, and even on occasion some GF breads.

So, bear with me as I begin the work here at my end, categorizing and sorting my photos (is that a bird up in that picture of a tree?) and I’ll share it all in coming days. My first night home I had a Trader Joe’s salad, and let’s just say I’m savoring my coffee this morning. Home feels wonderful. Today I’m meeting my daughter who took care of my kitten for me while I was gone. I’ve shopped for groceries already. The work on my house still isn’t quite finished, but it’s almost done. My newly redecorated bedroom still lacks accessories, but it’s almost completed. And my own bed was the most comfortable I’ve been in the last 2 1/2 weeks!

Posted in Travel, on July 20th, 2015.

Mendocino_Coast_Botanical_Gardens_590

The beautiful gardens way up the California coast near Mendocino are off the beaten path if you’re just visiting San Francisco. It’s about 100 miles north and over a set of low mountains or accessed by the very windy 2-lane highway that traverses most of the California coast. If you’re ever there, do make a pilgrimage. It’s very worth it. You’ll notice the sun wasn’t even shining, but there was plenty of light to take photos.

Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens

Posted in Restaurants, Travel, on July 17th, 2015.

Image result for sonoma images

On my driving trip to Northern Cal, I stayed just one night in Sonoma. It’s a very cute little town – there’s a photo I found online at sonomavalley.com, of the main square or plaza. My B&B was about a block off to the top right – so easy to walk into town. Sonoma still retains its old world charm and almost frontier character. I wasn’t there for the wine – my darling DH was probably chiding me from heaven to have me stop at this or that winery, but I wasn’t there to do tasting or buying, especially since it was summer (hot) and any wine would have to stay in the car for the next several days (not good). There’s a special table/décor store on the plaza (top at the center) that I wanted to visit, but it was closed by the time I walked there, and I left too early the next morning to do any shopping.

table_cottage_innHere’s a photo of the table in my room at the Cottage Inn and Spa, where I stayed. The B&B is a combination of two old Spanish homes, side by side, with just charmingly decorated rooms. I stayed in the Courtyard Suite, a small but cozy room with a tiny but well outfitted kitchen and a view (if my door was left open) of the courtyard and fountain.

Breakfast was delivered (a pretty covered basket) to a hook outside my door and I made a good pot of coffee to go with it. Very nice.

The little B&B has one distinction – there is only one room with a TV. I read my book and slept like a log.

I asked for a recommendation for dinner and they sent me to the #1 Trip Advisor result, Café La Haye, which is just off the main plaza by about 60 paces. I went early and had a fabulous meal. I put together the photos in a collage – see below.

cafe_la_haye

My dinner comprised two different small dishes – the beet salad on a bed of crème fraiche (I think) and topped with a lovely mound of dressed greens. It was to die for. I sat at a bar (see 2nd picture, small bar at bottom right) that overlooked the kitchen.

My 2nd course was toasted polenta slices (that were very moist) on a bed of something (can’t recall) and topped with shaved fennel and onions and a lovely sauce. I nearly licked the plate clean.

Then I splurged and had their rum raisin gelato/ice cream which was meant to go with a special dessert, but they ran out of the dessert, so I just had the gelato. Oh my, delicious.

When I left, it was still early, so I took a long stroll around all the stores on the perimeter of the plaza. I looked in windows, and browsed inside if the stores were open (some were). The town was busy with visitors and locals.

A charming town. I enjoyed my B&B and my dinner.

Posted in Travel, on July 16th, 2015.

rock_at_morro_bay

Have you ever been to Morro Bay? It’s a lovely little, sleepy seaside town about 2 1/2 hours north of Los Angeles. And that, the great, gigantic rock, sits out from the shore about 3/4 of a mile or so. It’s certainly the focal point of this town.

It’s been several weeks ago now – actually it was at the end of May, and I’m just getting around to writing up about my 2-week driving trip to Northern California. Life got in the way, but first I needed to write up all the different posts about my Europe trip in March/April. As I write this I’m packing my suitcase to fly to Colorado to visit with friends for about 5 days, so maybe I’ll have some photos from there as well. I’ll get those up after I finish this trip . . .

anderson_inn_morro_bayOnce through the awful traffic of L.A. (it gets worse by the day, and traffic in Orange County, where I live, is getting worse too) it was easy driving on up north. I like driving – at least for awhile I don’t mind driving by myself. During one part it wasn’t much fun, but I’ll tell you about that later. After driving through Oxnard and Pismo Beach, eventually I got to Morro Bay. I’d booked myself into a really, really lovely place called The Anderson Inn (it’s not a B&B, no breakfast). I wished I’d paid for the highest priced rooms that overlook that view up at top. I didn’t – I just couldn’t quite bring myself to do it – it’s not cheap! – so I had a very partial view of the rock from a tiny deck outside my sliding door. The room was lovely – outfitted well – and the owner even asked me if I liked cream in my coffee (yes, I do) and she brought me a pitcher of real cream that was stored in the room refrigerator. Oh my, was I impressed.

I had time to walk up and down the main street of the wharf, to look in all the corny tourist shops. I didn’t buy the_galley_morro_bayanything although I visited one really nice gardening and décor store that had some lovely stuff. I had dinner early, at The Galley, a restaurant that’s attached to the inn (and you can see the 2nd floor deck for the inn’s view rooms, the ones I didn’t stay in – there are 4 of them up there, overlooking the harbor).

It seems to be my modus operandi as a widow, when I eat out, to eat early – I feel awkward going to dinner at 7 with romantic couples and families everywhere. I shouldn’t, and I’ve tried not to, but I just do. So I was finished with dinner by about 6:30 and had time to take a nice walk. It was brisk that day and I enjoyed the cool ocean breezes.

The next morning I had breakfast down the street at a very old-fashioned (but good) diner, and I got on the road early. Because of some fast, last minute texting with my friend Cherrie, when I got to Cayucos (ky-YOU-kos), brown_butter_cookie_cojust north or Morro Bay, I pulled off and drove into the 2-block long main drag and stopped at a very special destination – the Brown Butter Cookie Company. They have a store in Paso Robles and this one in Cayucos. They offer samples too. I’d tasted their cookies before – and knew choc_chip_cookie_brown_butter_cookiethey were sensational (yes, lots of butter). Most of their cookies are sort of a shortbread kind of dough, although I had chocolate chip, and that was not.

I’d just had breakfast, but for the sake of research, I bought one cookie to eat myself. I bought several others – small packages of 6 cookies in bags of 4 different types. They made for a very nice hostess gift for 2 different friends I was going to stay with in coming days.

My destination that day was Carmel, but I drove old Highway 1, a very curvy road that’s been in existence for more than a century, I’m sure. Hearst Castle is along the way, though I didn’t stop there –  have been there several times. I raven_hwy_1just headed north, plugged in a CD to listen to a book on tape (that day it was Under Magnolia, the memoir by Frances Mayes). I don’t mind the curvy roads, but I found that I didn’t enjoy it that much because I couldn’t crane my neck around to see the views – I had to keep my eye on the road. I didn’t have anyone to tell me to stop at the next turnout, etc. I think the better viewpoints are seen driving south, not north. I don’t know that I’ll ever do that drive again. On the way, though, there are some lovely places to stop. I got out to stretch my legs and encountered this relatively friendly raven. Had I moved any closer he’d have flown off – he kept his eye on me every second as I approached. He didn’t even flinch when the shutter clicked.

scene_central_coast

This scene is very typical of the California coast – we’re in a severe drought, though, so where the fields might have been green, they’re brown this year. The flowers are weeds, I think, but they’re pretty nonetheless.

One place I always stop is a sea lion overlook. It’s marked with a sign, and this time of year there are hundreds sea_lion_loungeof sea lions lounging on the shore with hundreds of people standing around and gawking and making funny faces because it smells. I joined the crowds and snapped a few pictures and observed one of the males maneuvering himself to an open spot. They are so gangly and awkward – it’s amazing they can roll themselves on land.

The picture doesn’t do justice to the noise – they are barking off and on all the time – and they move around, flap a little to ward off flies, probably, and the water laps at their tails. It was blowing like crazy – I know, you can’t tell – so I didn’t stay there long.

I made several short stops, snapped some pictures, most of which weren’t worthy of posting except those scene3_along_hwy_1you see here. I stopped at one pull-out along the coast and loved the interplay of colors in the water. It was cold, and yes, the wind was blowing. That’s the scene looking south, obviously.

I spent the night in Carmel, at the rather famous Doris Day pet-friendly hotel right in downtown, called the Cypress Inn. It’s a block off the main drag, and has a lovely old-world, almost European elegance about it. I had an exceedingly small room there – by the time I booked it a month before I went, all the rooms I’d previously looked at and liked were taken. Oh well. I had another early dinner at the restaurant in the hotel and then had time to walk the complete town – up, across, down and back, the length of the main street. Nearly all the stores were closed, but I managed to return the next morning to a store I liked that had raincoats. Not that I needed a raincoat, but I really liked a bright red one. That went into the trunk of my car and never got used – still hasn’t been used since it’s summer! The next morning I had to climb over dogs in the lobby to get to the breakfast bar. There were dogs everywhere (not in the room with the food, however).

After that I drove to Santa Clara and stayed overnight with my cousin Gary, then visited with friends Stacey & Russ and their children, then spent 2 nights in Lafayette and used a nice hotel as a central place to go visit another cousin Maxine and her husband Jim, and Karen & Phil, lunch with one of Dave’s old-old friends, a previous boss and sailing partner and his wife, Bob & Monique, then with another couple who were also close friends during Dave’s days at Intel, Ron & Kim. I was VERY busy during those 5 days – with hardly a moment to myself, really.

Then I drove through wine country and met my cousin Gary in Healdsburg. We had lunch and then I drove us up Mendocino_bayto Mendocino. I’d wanted to re-visit that town – it was one that my DH and I had visited about 5-6 years ago, and enjoyed. Gary had never been there, and it’s right in his neck of the woods. So he’d said yes, he’d like to go with me when I asked him to accompany me. It’s a kind of a sleepy seaside town and there’s not a whole lot to do there.

Gary and I stayed 2 nights and ate out of course. Nothing particularly memorable. We did visit a lovely botanic gardens in Ft. Bragg (about 4-5 miles north of Mendocino) and I’ll write up a separate post about that. Gary loves flowers and gardens and he spent hours and hours hiking the trails and taking hundreds of photos. I walked through it all and took some pictures, then spent some time at the little café reading, and enjoying an iced chai tea latte. For many of the daylight hours we were there it was shrouded in mist. Morning, noon and night, really, with some filtered sun shining through now and then. In the photo above, near our inn, is the bay just north of the town of Mendocino. You can tell it was overcast and misting.

After dropping Gary off in Healdsburg, where he left his car (and he went on home), I visited Sonoma State, the school where my IMG_0324granddaughter Taylor will be going to college (she’ll major in nursing) this fall. I’m SO excited for her. I walked around the campus just to acquaint myself with the layout, and drove around the dorms. And visited the bookstore and bought a few things for Taylor. Then I drove on over to Placerville to attend Taylor’s high school graduation. Here’s a photo of her just before the ceremony.

I’m so proud of this young lady – she’s overcome some tremendous odds and graduated with a really good GPA – and Sonoma State wants her! She was accepted at Chico State also, but opted for Sonoma – it’s a really beautiful pine-tree-filled campus.

The next day I surprised Taylor with a big gift – she so needs it – I bought her a car. Here at right you can see the photo of her after I purchased it (used, though it’s only 2 years old, a Honda Civic).IMG_0334

Can you tell how excited she was about that?

While I was at Sonoma State I bought her a decal that’s already installed in the back window of her car – I should have given her the decal first then told her I was going to take her somewhere where she could install it. No matter, she was  thrilled. The college campus is about 2 1/2 hours away from home. She had an ancient Honda Civic with 250,000+ miles on it that was on its last legs, and certainly not up the task of taking her to/from school.

That was my trip – after a couple of days there I drove home. Another trip under my belt as a widow. I don’t really like traveling alone, but if I want to travel, I have to do it that way part of the time.

Posted in Travel, on July 2nd, 2015.

pond_giverny_house

Many tours of Paris include a visit to Giverny, the gorgeous small estate and gardens of the famed impressionist artist, Claude Monet. Back in his days there, he was a celebrated artist – a fame that came to him later in life.

In Monet’s earlier years he and his wife nearly died of starvation as they struggled to survive in a tiny garret in Paris. Yet never would he consider taking on some other occupation. He lived only to draw and paint. His first wife died (and he was both acclaimed and censored for painting his wife as she lay dead in their marital bed). Eventually he married again, and then finally he became an artist in favor. He’d made enough money to afford a lovely home and a staff to take care of this quiet, country piece of land on a narrow lane just north of Paris. Back then it was a ‘fur piece” to get there – now it takes about 45 minutes by car.

flowers1Over the years he expanded the gardens to include a piece of land that was across the road. Technically he owned it (so we learned on our tour) but nobody else built on theirs, but Monet did. The tour includes both sides of the road and you hardly realize that there IS a road in between. The townspeople must not have wanted to make waves, so they allowed his indiscretion of developing the garden. The road, in the photo at top is behind the ivy wall you can see about half way up. He dammed up a small pond (which is on the annexed garden) and planted flowers every which way. He painted nearly every day and everyone in the household left him alone when he was painting – it is what allowed them all to live there and be part of his large family. As long as he continued to paint and sell his paintings, the family lived in some level of French countryside splendor.

cherrie_joan_bridgeHis gardeners kept the entire property thriving with seasonal flowers, built and planned along every path and wall to provide fodder for his paintbrush. The Monets entertained lavishly and often – there are cookbooks about the food they ate. Including the menus and recipes.

The bridge at left is quite famous in Monet-land. It’s in several of his paintings (Cherrie and Joan standing there in the middle).

Some of the trees, shrubs and flowers were labeled, but most of them were not. We guessed at some. I think one of the most interesting areas was the pond and in the middle of it there were very vocal frogs. I took a video, but am not very adept at the process of uploading it to my blog, so just trust me – it was very giverny_main_pathentertaining as the frogs called to each other from one lily pad to another and males protected their territory with skirmishes going on nearly every minute. Or, maybe it wasn’t male-male skirmishes, but male to female lovers’ calls.

As we meandered around the paths, we eventually made it into the main gardens in front of the house. This pathway you see at right is cordoned off so visitors can’t walk there (you had to walk around the outside edges), but it makes for a prettier picture, I think.

In the heart of summer, most likely the climbing plants and flowers completely cover those canopies.

flowers2

Flowers, pretty pastel spring flowers, were in abundance, in small clumps, mixing in more than one color or type, as at left with pink tulips and whatever the little blue flowers were. Can’t remember, nor can I tell from the photos.

Eventually we ended up going into the front door of the house (straight ahead in the photo above. Docents (French speaking only, of course) were in every room to make sure nobody stepped out of line or touched things. Monet and his wife slept in separate bedrooms, and actually the house wasn’t as big as I thought. Perhaps there are other rooms in the house that we didn’t see, more rooms for guests.

giverny_view

I’ve read that once a week – I think it’s on the day the estate is closed to the public – it’s open to artists who wish to come and paint in Monet’s footsteps. I’ve never done plein air painting (meaning out in the open, in nature), though every summer here where I live in Southern California, there is a workshop and competition for plein air.

Having heard about and read (I own the original Monet cookbook) some about the Monet family feasts, I was very intrigued to see the stunningly beautiful dining room. The house itself has been left completely as it was when Monet lived there (well, they keep it up, obviously, because it’s a huge money-maker). I have no idea if Monet’s descendants are involved, or are even alive. I don’t think I’ve ever heard.

giverny_rowboats

The photo at left, with the rowboats, was one of my favorite scenes at Giverny. Monet painted angles of that numerous times. If you go on the ‘net and look, you’ll find so many paintings of different places all over the estate. There’s something so peaceful about the rowboats, and the still pond, and the bamboo (I think) growing up behind them.

My Monet cookbook resides up in my office (meaning that it isn’t one I use much). I found that the recipes were kind of bland. Plain. And that’s not my style particularly, but the book is big, with lots of photographs of Giverny, and I have a hankering to look through the pages again, to remember my walk through the gardens, this view and that.

giverny_dining_roomThe Monet dining room is all in yellow, and it’s a very bright and cheerful room. Big. Because there were many extra chairs sitting around the edges, I think the table could accommodate more people if they needed to. The floors were beautiful. The furniture was all painted yellow. The floors that unique brick-red and white checkerboard. You can see the doorway into the kitchen beyond.

giverny_tulips

Loved the yellow and crimson tulips that were just in their final days of bloom. I wanted to cut off about a hundred and vase them in my kitchen.

giverny_kitchen

The kitchen was so cool (in blue) and airy, with the gorgeous copper pots hanging around. I suspect the table you see in the foreground was the main work surface. I think the tile wall is Delft, and I found it interesting that they combined the blue-blue (like a marine blue) of the tiles and the turquoise trim color. To me they don’t go together at all. I’m sure Monet decided that color – very little was left to chance or to Mrs. Monet.

giverny_stove_kitchen

There is the cooking wall – with different Delft tiles surrounding the stove. And would you take a look at that stove? Like a gigantic Aga, but surely it was wood burning. But I don’t know that – just assuming that it was wood or coal burning. With so many different cubbyholes for heating, warming and baking.

Off to one side of the gardens was a very large gift shop, and although I tried to find some things I wanted there, the only thing I bought was a plastic shopping bag (that cost me about $3.00 U.S.) with one of Monet’s lily pad pond scenes on it. I take it to the grocery store and cart food into my kitchen. They had lots of Monet books – oodles of them, but I didn’t buy one.

monets_studio_giverny

There at left is Monet’s art studio. It was gigantic – by far the biggest room in the house. On the walls are painted replicas of his paintings, all stuck chock-a-block on ever surface. It was connected to the house, but down several stairs to get there. I’d have liked to really study the room more, but it was quite crowded, as you can see.

All of us really enjoyed the gardens – it was a lovely afternoon, the sun shone but it wasn’t too hot (this was early April). We were fortunate that we had no rain – we didn’t have rain at all on the trip.

Posted in Travel, on June 24th, 2015.

carolyn_in_Paris_Angelinas_hot_chocolate

That’s me, at Angelina, the famous Paris hot chocolate cafe and store (and  food too, but mostly they’re known for hot chocolate and pastries) sharing a pitcher of hot chocolate at about 9:30 in the morning.

As I’m writing this it’s June and I’m still not finished telling you about the trip I took in late March until mid-April. Our last stop, in Paris for 3 nights. I hope you’re not tired of reading my travel stories – I have a couple more posts to write for the Europe trip (to Giverny, Claude Monet’s home and gardens an hour or so north of Paris and our visit to the Opera House).

Our first full day we spent a good part of it at the old Paris Opera House on a small-group, English speaking tour. The 2nd day Darlene and I went over to Angelina. It was a belated birthday present for her from me, a stop she was dying to make, having heard so much about the shop and their special, thick (Africain style) hot chocolate. And indeed, it was thick. So thick that it’s just about required to spoon some whipped cream into it to thin it out a little bit. Here’s what their website says about it:

African Hot Chocolatedarlene_at_angelina
The famous “African” hot chocolate is composed of three carefully selected kinds of African cocoa from Niger, Ghana and Côte d’Ivoire. The secret recipe for this chocolate mix is specially put together for Angelina. The combination of these different types of chocolate from different lands lends Angelina’s hot chocolate its exceptional taste and distinctive character.

I bought two packages of their mix. Darlene and I shared a bag, and the other one will be a gift. I haven’t made any of it yet – it’s way too hot for hot chocolate right now. The gift one is going to my younger granddaughter who is a crazy about hot chocolate. She’ll think it’s extra special. She even has a French hot chocolate pot.

Darlene and I ordered hot chocolate and a pastry. Talk about angelina_hot_chocolate_servicedoubling up the fat. Wow. We waited about 10 minutes and they set the table, just so, and took impeccable care of us, even if we couldn’t speak French. The waiter was very kind and didn’t give us a bad time about it. As we left the place our friend Joan walked in, so the 3 of us walked back to our hotel with our purchases in tow (I bought a little pitcher like the one in the photo at top). Darlene bought several of the imprinted dishes.angelina_hot_chocolate_top

If you do a search for French hot chocolate, or Angelina hot chocolate, you’ll find many recipes. I’m not going to include links here since it’s very easy to do a search.

At right, my cup of chocolate with some of the much-needed whipped cream stirred in. Was this stuff divine? Absolutely!

Posted in Travel, on June 20th, 2015.

Basilica_Notre_Dame_de_Fourvière

Without a doubt, this gorgeous basilica is the focal point of Lyon. It stands, majestically, on a prominent hill overlooking the main city below. Its architecture is stunning. The view over the city also stops you in your tracks. The interior of the church is highly decorated with mosaics and glittering in gold.

Our second full day in Lyon was spent in the company of a lovely tour guide, Clémence P. (pictured down below), who met us at the Basilica, taking us on a walking tour inside and explaining the history. She’s a local, although she attended school in the U.S. at some time in her earlier youth and speaks English very well. Joan found her on her internet searches, and she walked us all over the top, then down nearly to the bottom of the hill.

There’s a very cute funicular that traverses up and down the hill every few minutes. So we 4 gals went up on the funicular and walked down, mostly with our guide as she pointed out historical things, bought us a piece of special pastry, and finally left us near a restaurant where we promptly sat down and had lunch.

cathedral_mosaic_wall_lyon

That mosaic on the right is gigantic and standing as I was down below it my photo doesn’t do it justice.

The church was built in the 1600s and especially dedicated to the Virgin Mary because, it was believed, she sheltered the people of Lyon from the bubonic plague. And every year the city thanks her by a Festival of Lights in early December. The townspeople also credit the Virgin Mary with saving them from a cholera epidemic in the 1800s and from a Prussian invasion in 1870. There are 2 churches, actually, one underneath and then the much more formal and ornate one built on top in the 1800s.

If you’re interested, go to this link on youtube and you can watch a 2 1/2 minute video of the Festival of Lights, which is quite spectacular. It occurs for just 4 nights.

We really only had two full days to tour in Lyon – we stayed 3 nights, but we didn’t get there until early afternoon on day one, had the two full days after, and the following morning we left for Paris. Sunday we did the farmer’s market and some shopping. vieux_lyonMonday was our tour of the city.

Historically, Lyon was known for the weaving of silk. Somehow in my education of all things history, I never heard that there was any place other than Asia where silk fabrics were made. Actually much was produced in Italy also, in the Middle Ages.

All of us were sad that we didn’t have time to explore that part of Lyon – it’s along one side the river. Picture at left credited to viator.com. Although you might not realize it, looking at that bank of tall buildings, so they said, weavers lived and worked in the same rooms, working only by day (as there was no electricity) with only the windows in the workrooms. In my internet exploring to find that picture, I saw photos of the historic silk weavinglyon_walking_tour_guide facilities. Cramped for sure. The heyday of Lyon silk weaving was in the 1600s, with about a third of Lyon’s population (15,000) employed in some way in the silk trade. At right, our guide Clémence. She’s standing in front of that beautiful mosaic in the basilica, one of the pictures at top.

Amphitheater_von_LyonAnother landmark in Lyon is an ancient Roman amphitheater. In our walk down the hill with our sweet guide (who has a degree in art history) we visited it as well. In my other travels with my DH, we’d visited many Roman amphitheaters in Turkey particularly.

We walked all along the top and around to the other side, then went down to the dais (is that the right use of that word? not sure). Since a couple of my friends had either not seen one of these, nor had they done the most unique thing — walking out to the very center of the “stage” to find the “sweet spot,” usually marked by a stone or something. I did it first – it’s as if you have speakers reverberating back to you – the acoustics are amazing. Other tourists standing up at the very top turned suddenly when I spoke because they could hear me like I was standing next to them. Amazing that the Romans had figured out how to do that! Why don’t we make use of those natural acoustics today?

pastries_pink_pralines_lyonbakery_lyonAlong our walk our guide stopped at a bakery. Many of the pastries and desserts made in Lyon are topped with pink praline, usually chopped up of course since they were like candy. Sorry for the reflection in the pastry shop glass. This store is the most famous in Lyon we were told.

Clémence bought us a couple of them – I can’t say that I thought they were anything pink_pastries_lyon_eatingthat special – a doughnut kind of thing with lots of pink praline stuck to the top. There was a long line at the shop, though.

After our guide left us, we were hungry for lunch, so we stopped at a restaurant just 20 yards away and enjoyed a nice lunch sitting outside. I ordered Eggs Muerette, a French dish you never see on menus here (I first had it as an appetizer course on a small barge trip in France in 1995 – does that tell you how memorable it was, that I remember it that well?). I’ve never made it. It’seggs_meurette_lyon poached eggs on a little piece of toasted bread and in a pool of red wine sauce. In French it’s Oeufs Meurette. Darlene wanted to try the french fries cooked in duck fat.

They brought her a very large bowl of them, so of course, we all had to have some. They were good, though I actually couldn’t taste the duck fat.

french_fries_duck_fat_lyon

After lunch, it was an easy walk down the rest of the hill, across the river, and back to our cool, quiet apartment.

If  you’ve never been to Lyon, and you’re going to France, you need to put it on your itinerary. It was very special. I’d like to go back there someday. Maybe I will.choc_tart_espress_lyon

As we finished up our meal, the waiter suggested we try the little tiny chocolate tart and have a cup of espresso that came with it.

Oh my. It was divine. The French DO know how to do chocolate and the coffee was perfect. A lovely ending to our tour and our day.

We walked all over the old town and I felt like we had a good overall feeling of the city, though we missed out on seeing some of the landmarks.

rock_wall_lyon

I love to take pictures of rock walls. Why? I don’t know. I find them unique – see the patches they’ve done in this one (it was near the amphitheater) with stones and bricks. And then to see the foliage that can’t have much water, yet they seem to thrive, but then they’re likely weeds and don’t need much water!

If you’re interested in finding a tour of Lyon, look for the Tours by Locals half day tour that’s customizable. That’s the one we did.

Posted in Travel, on June 16th, 2015.

chicken_feast_dinner_lyon

In planning the Europe trip that we took in March/April, as we 4 gals looked at a map I mentioned Lyon. It’s not necessarily on the radar for travelers to France. I’d never been there and neither had any of the others. It was close to Geneva (where we’d returned our rental car), easily accessible by train (the TGV), and I’d read that Lyon is the culinary capitol of France.

Joan took on the challenge of planning our 3-day sojourn in Lyon. Once we arrived at the train station we took a taxi to our apartment. Joan had found a very nice, old-world-character-filled 4-bedroom apartment in the heart of fresh_raspberries_lyon_farmers_marketdowntown. It’s a bit hard to find 4-bedroom apartments, but this one was perfect. The owners (who live an hour or so outside of Lyon) spoke English. You can view info, if you’re interested at this Trip Advisor link. For our 3-night stay we paid about 1000 euros, amounting to about $85/night for each of us. We thought that was a huge bargain. The apartment was very roomy. I’ll intersperse a couple of pictures below. We were there off-season, most likely, so it’s very possible it’s more pricey at different times of the year. Picture above shows the fresh, sweet raspberries.

Most people assume that Paris is the gastronomic capitol of France, but oh no, Lyon is very definitely the titular head of the French culinary world. There are a number of ridiculously expensive restaurants there (we lyon_apt_frontdoordidn’t go to any of them) that specialize in the very classic, old-school French cuisine, all with famous French chefs at the helm. With Paul Bocuse as the king of them all. I’d watched a recent TV show about them (it might have been one of Anthony Bourdain’s series on places around the world and their food) and observed the insane multi-course meals that you must have at these places. None of us was interested in doing that!

So what did we do? Well, the first night we walked out our apartment door (pictured at right – I just love the beautiful, big wood doors so common in Europe) and around lyon_4_br_apartmentthe corner to a nice little French bistro and had dinner. Nothing fancy, but we’d had a long travel day and were fine with a simple meal. Joan and Darlene went out food shopping in the mid-afternoon and came back having had so much fun selecting some snacks, coffee, wine, a marvelous baguette, cheese, etc. Plenty of food for our breakfast.

At left is the building. There was a tiny lift inside which would hold 2 people. The owners had met us there when we arrived, had stocked the frig with some ham, cheese, eggs and dairy-fresh butter from a neighbor, some rhubarb jam living_room_apt_in_lyonthat the husband had made recently (delicious, by the way), milk and cream for our coffee. I thought that was very kind of them to provide those things. All 4 of us are coffee fans, and Darlene had brought along (and Cherrie too) some of the little Via packets from Starbucks. If you’ve never had them, I must lyon_apt_BRtell you, that instant coffee is pretty darned incredible. It doesn’t taste like typical instant coffee. Anyway, we all enjoyed several cups (Starbucks makes them in several varieties of beans). The apartment had a coffee pot and a tin of coffee, but we were content with the Via and some hot tea one time. (My bedroom in the photo at left.)

The owners had told us that on Sundays (we arrived on Saturday) about 3-4 blocks away, along the side of the river, was an amazing farmer’s market, and that we simply must go. We needed no encouragement. Joan and Darlene were our reconnaissance team (they performed that lyon_chicken_rotisserierole in every place we went) and had already staked out the best stalls to visit. The picture up at the top was the meal we had on Sunday evening that we’d procured from the market. We bought a rotisserie chicken from the vendor at right in the picture. It cooked on these tall contraptions (out in the open air). The right side the fat dripped down into a pan. On the left side the fat from the chickens dripped down onto a big pile of small potatoes – oh my were they delicious! We bought the big, fat white asparagus_green_white_lyon_marketasparagus, lovely greens for a salad, including Belgian endive, some chèvre cheese, a Tuscan melon, a fresh pear, two breakfast tarts (kind of like Quiche Lorraine), fresh raspberries and strawberries, fresh Madeleines, several kinds of marinated olives, a pear clafoutis, and the star of the whole show were the slightly larger than cherry sized tomatoes. I think I mentioned it in an earlier post, about the tomatoes – I actually discovered 4 of them in my purse, in a small plastic baggie when I got home to California. I’d not remembered they were IN my purse. They were by far the sweetest tomatoes I’ve ever had in my life.

dining_table_set_lyonWe had a feast; there simply aren’t any better words for it. Maybe because we’d been eating out at restaurants at least twice a day for a week or so, we savored a home meal. While Joan and Darlene went out shopping to the department stores, Cherrie and I set the table to make it a very nice sit-down dinner for our little group. We had so much fun – we laughed and carried on, big time.

In the dining room cupboards we found a tablecloth and some pretty dishes, and cute little matching placemats. Plus wine glasses and cloth napkins. It was a pretty sight.

asparagus_green_white_lyon_market

There at left are the green and white asparagus at the market. I’m not sure that anyone else in our group had ever had the white asparagus (I had, in Germany, where they call it spargel), so we tried it. All I did was pan sauté them in a little olive oil, then added a little tiny bit of water and steamed them until they were done. Then I added just a little tiny dot of butter to the pan and rolled the, over in it just to barely coat the outsides.

lyon_olives

That night we only ate about half of the food we bought and prepared, so we had enough for another feast of left overs the next night. Cold chicken and baguette slices, cheese, and whatever we hadn’t already finished. The only thing we left behind were some of the olives.

The next day we had a very fun time. I think I’ll write up another post about that. Too many more pictures to include in this one entry.

Posted in Travel, on June 9th, 2015.

lake_annecy_from_talloires

Even though I took some French classes (for tourists) years ago, and I have a semblance of pronunciation sometimes, I never got the name down pat on this one – the Talloires, yes (like tahl-wah), but the lake, no. In French it’s like ann-sy, not ann-a-sy. I kept wanting to make it 3 syllables when it’s not. Well, whatever the pronunciation, this is one gorgeous spot on our planet.

This place, in a tiny little lake-side location, about 8 miles from the town of Annecy (south of Geneva and on the east side of the lake) is one where my DH and I stayed many years ago. The hotel, L’Abbaye de Talloires had been written up in Gourmet magazine. Back then there was no l_abbaye_entranceinternet, so I believe I faxed the hotel for reservations and Dave and I stayed here for one or two nights. We were enchanted with the location. And with no GPS’s back then, I don’t know how in the heck we ever found it. We had an exquisite meal in the somewhat formal restaurant and enjoyed sitting outside looking at the lake. And I remember the room we had, too.

At left, the front of the hotel. Isn’t it beautiful?

I remembered the hotel had been an abbey, hence the name, obviously. The rooms in the older section are really beautiful, maintaining the wooded beams. The rooms are cozy (but not small, really) with an attached bath. I requested a room with a view on the side. Nowdays it’s so easy to make reservations – we did it all online. Thank goodness for credit cards. We had rooms in different parts of the hotel. I was in a newer section with a very modern spiffy bathroom and a very nice comfortable room. The hotel has nice amenities, not the least of which is the food! Oh gosh. Our breakfasts, both mornings, well, wow, is all I can say. It was one of the best we had – rivaling the breakfast we had on Lake Brienz. And that one only lake_annecy_pansiesbecause they offered muesli. We had dinner at the hotel one night – it was really delicious food. I’m glad we did that. The other night we (with Joan and Darlene making a shopping foray to a little bitty grocery store) did a kind of picnic on the end of the bed in Cherrie’s room. A towel was strategically placed, and we had crackers, cheese, Sprite for sure. Don’t remember what else. I’d told my 3 girlfriends about this hotel, and they were all kind of excited about the thought of staying in an old abbey, so I researched and found it. It is a bit pricey to stay here, but we fully felt it was worth it.

l_abbaye_docksOn the full in between day, Joan and Darlene both took walks and hikes (Joan hiked up to nearly the top of a nearby mountain). Darlene walked along part of the lake and took this picture, at right looking back at the hotel.

Cherrie and I, recovering from our tummy upsets of the day before (we don’t know what we ate, but we both seemed to have gotten it, whatever it was) stayed around the hotel and grounds. We walked on the terrace a little, and sat out on the dock area on lounge chairs and talked and enjoyed the sunshine and the view of the lake. We read our books, both took naps, and generally were lazy.

tea_terrace_l_abbayeIn the early afternoon we were craving some tea, so the kind bartender brought us some out on the sunny terrace. At right, Cherrie and I are sipping Earl Grey. We were feeling SO much better by afternoon, and it was that night we ate dinner in the hotel and enjoyed the food.

We were almost sorry to have to leave after our 2 nights there. It was just so beautiful on Lake Annecy (ann-sy, remember). But there isn’t anything to do in Talloires, really. I suppose in the summer they have swimming and boating. We just took it easy and oohed and aahed about the scenery.

The next morning as we were preparing to leave, Darlene asked the very nice desk clerk if he would take our picture out in their interior courtyard – the cloister.

l_abbaye_garden

Our next destination was the Geneva train station. I set the GPS to the street address, and off we went, up over the hills and dales (oh, sorry, dales are in Britain, not France) again. We were still avoiding the autobahn, so we ended up going through many little villages as we’d done on our way there, but it was a completely different route. We finally found the building where we were to drop off the car (that took a little bit of finding). Then we walked a few blocks to the Geneva station and bought our tickets. Off to Lyon next.

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