Everywhere you look, there is beauty. Majestic buildings line the Seine River. The Eiffel Tower stands straight and tall, looking down on landscaped and fountained gardens. Gold statues here, white marble ones there and gargoyles mixed in for fun. Domes of gold or greened copper or black and gold top buildings with coffered roofs and round columns. Miles of straight lined buildings with wrought iron decorations reach in every direction, broken only by fountains or column ornamentations in flower planted circular gardens and round abouts. Stately churches are strategically located with highly ornamented steeples, yet the twin towers of Notre Dame Cathedral call attention to its elegant setting on an island in the Seine. In my opinion, the walk from the Arche de Triomphe down the Champs Elysees with its tree lined paths to the Place de la Concorde and its Egyptian obelisk through the Toulouse Gardens lined with fountains, pools and statuary to the Louvres with its stately square is the most beautiful walk devised by humans. It is a completely straight line from the middle of the Arche to the obelisk to the center of the square. It is not a short walk, mind you, but every last step brings new beauty to behold. An amazing day in Paris the beautiful on Easter Sunday.

The Easter mass at Notre Dame was beautiful. Kathy and I stood in a very long queue as tens of thousands crowded around the cathedral for Easter. Stadium seating had been erected on the cathedral square with giant television screens to view the successive services being held. I wanted inside, since it was the last mass! So we stood in the line and it started to move forward. Just as we neared the barriers before the entry, the guards said something in French and began to close the gates. I put my hand on Kathy’s back and gave her a firm push past the guard and gate and looked at him with a “What can I do? look; she is a woman” and he let me past also. So literally, I was the last person allowed to attend Notre Dame for its 850th anniversary Easter Mass. A Lutheran to boot. WEG

The Avignon TGV train station is ultra modern and comfortable. We arrived for our trip to Paris and were whisked away in a sleek and comfortable cabin. The two and a half hour trip was uneventful except for the beautiful countryside that we passed by at speeds approaching 180mph. We arrived in Paris Gare de Lyon and successfully navigated the change to the regional trains that would take us to our hotel close to the Paris center. That’s when we met the older lady who gave us wrong directions to the hotel–down the hill she said and to the left. It didn’t seem right to me, but not wanting to appear impolite, I told Kathy to follow me and down the hill we went. Down, down, down, we went–no hotel. Back up the hill, up, up, up we went to where we started in order to start over. On this lane we are directed–walk, walk, walk on this lane–dead end, no hotel. Back, back, back we walked to where we started in order to start over. Smarter now, I asked a pharmacist in a pharmacy for directions. On the computer he went in order to show me where the hotel was located. He followed me out the door to make sure I walked in the right direction. Yes, only steps away from where we started was the hotel, but we had easily walked with luggage well over a mile in wrong directions. Our hotel is wonderful and surprise, we are upgraded to the best rooms on the top floor–worth the walk.

Across from the hotel is a big mall–just like our malls, but with stores we do not have, and including a grocery store and cleaners. Famished and tired and not wanting to sit for a long meal, we found the food court–our first time to eat in this way for over two months. No fast foods we know, different names and mostly different foods. Kathy got a panini and I found the pastry shop and picked out a rhubarb cream, bread flan with chocolate and a strawberry tart. Guess who had the better meal?

Tomorrow is Easter and our plan is to attend service in Notre Dame Cathedral just a short train stop away. The Lord is Risen. He is Risen indeed! WEG

The drive wound through country lanes beyond Avignon to the south and into the hills. Small villages dotted the landscape and some stood out on hills with church towers beaconing from the village square. Seguret appeared around the bend, built as if clinging for life to the hillside onto which it clung. It was one with its environment–as was everything we encountered on this day.

Our gracious and generous hosts today are Walter and Veronica, “just call me Ronnie,” McKinlay. We have met via email introduction by our friends Chuck and Donna Orrico. Yet, somehow, it seems as if we have known each other for some time, so welcoming are our new found friends.

Up the hills above Seguret we go on one lane byways, around curves and beside grape vines that touch the roadside until we reach the McKinlay’s winery. Walter, among his varied business interests, “found” this wonderful vineyard, purchased it and built a winery from ground up, using the most modern technology and with the clever idea of building vertically in order to use gravity and efficient use of space in vinification, the process of turning grapes into wine. We were honored to have a personal tour and delighted with a personal wine tasting of the award winning wines produced by Domaine de Mourchon. The majority of grapes at Mourchon are Grenache with a minority of Syrah. Wine Advocate has rated the wines highly, and Walter recently learned that the Dallas Morning News has awarded his Grand Reserve their gold star. And here we were, privileged to be with Walter in his wine tasting room, sipping it with him as he explained the differences between grapes and the French concept of “terroir” which has no English equivalent, but means all the combined conditions of soil content, elevation, temperature, sunshine, moisture, etc. that are necessary to make a good wine from each grape variety. Terroir for one grape variety is not the same terroir for another variety.

The day was not done. Walter drove us further up the hill to his beautiful home which has a panaromic view of the majestic Provence countryside. Sweeping down the hill into the valley below are the Mourchon vineyards, in sections called parcels, each parcel having different aged vines–some vines can produce for a hundred years with intensity of taste improving as the vines age. Beyond are the mountains of Provence, which have ski runs in winter. On this foggy day, the sight was stunning. Ronnie had prepared a great vegetarian meal for us and we had a delightful visit in a kitchen and dining area that said, “France.” We learned that Ronnie has her own specialty, producing olive oil, and products that specialize in the Grenache grape grown at Mourchon, such as salt infused with Grenache, Grenache confiture, and body/facial lotion with grape oils. The McKinlay’s are certainly making the most of their encore life!

Did I mention that Rich Steves organizes tours in Provence that bring guests to Domaine de Mourchan? Walter returned us to our hotel in Avignon. Yes, it is a day to remember. Thank you McKinlay’s for a wonderful experience and loving welcome.

The Arctic front brought cold air to the south of France today. The day before was warm and sunny. Today cold and rainy. A perfect day to spend indoors in the Palace of the Popes, Palais des Papes, in Avignon. In the 14th Century for various geopolitical reasons, the papacy was moved from Rome to Avignon and for over 100 years nine successive popes lived in Avignon, where over time, the residence for the Papacy and its government offices for the church was built. Today, the buildings remain, but the walls are mostly bare. The movement of the papacy back to Rome, fires, the French Revolution and neglect stripped the building’s interiors of their former glory. What remains is still impressive. The palace is large and was built to convey the strength of the church. The palace is in the city of Avignon which is completely surrounded by a medieval wall and towers. You have stepped back in time when you go through the gates into the city and even more so as you approach the palace area.

After several hours in the Palace and our minds bursting with information we did not know about papal government and medieval times and chilled to the bone from the wind and rain, when we walked from the palace to the ancient bridge over the River Rhone that partially collapsed several hundred years ago, we decided it was time for a very late lunch. We found this wonderful restaurant that had an open fire going and we took a table right beside it. The warmth was wonderful. Kathy ate pumpkin soup and roasted aubergines (egg plant) with balsamic pureed tomatoes. I ate jambon-fromage omelette. I found a great mild rose from France that I recommend. Kathy took a picture so that we can find it someday. WEG

We have left the land of gelato and entered the land of pastry. My wife and I are divided on this issue of which is to be preferred. Not that either of us dislikes gelato or pastry, we just have our preferences. Spain was a toss-up, neither are the specialty of the region and both are good and available and so we could both tease the other. In Italy, gelato reigns supreme and so I retreated amicably and enjoyed the gelato. Now we are in France and pastry is King. I am loving it. Kathy is not as amicable as I was, however, when I could not get my preferred dessert. She did not want my pastry this evening. “Not sweet enough,” she said. The tourte de Bette, a specialty of the area around Nice and Avignon in Provence , is fantastic! Not too sweet–just sweet enough and as French as French can be. The Swiss chard, roasted pine nuts, raisins soaked in brandy and Parmesan mixture that forms the dense center of the pastry shell with olive oil and powdered sugar is a surprising delight. One more recipe coming back to Tomball–not that Kathy will remind me to make it. Too bad for her that there are not gelato counters every ten feet as in Italy. Good for me that the pastry shops have taken their place now that we have moved locales. WEG

What an amazing day! The morning found us at the flower market in the Nice old town. In addition to beautiful stalls selling flowers, were vegetable, meat, spice and bread stalls. It felt and looked so French, who believe in presentation as much as produce. For instance, tomatoes on vines were not haphazardly placed in a pile, but were arranged so that the stems were in the middle in rows with the tomatoes on the vine placed on the sides in crates nicely placed with cloth lining.

I bought a round loaf of bread and Kathy and I walked up to the Mediterranean walk, so beautifully paved with built in benches placed all along the way. We found a spot overlooking the coast line with waves crashing below on the jagged boulders and sat and ate the bread. We could not believe the clarity of the aqua blue water below crashing onto a pebble beach as far as the eye could see. We commented once again, how blessed we knew we were to enjoy this moment in time. We do not take this gift from God for granted.

We had planned to go to the Chagall Museum in the late afternoon and caught a bus nearby that went there after seven stops. One Euro each and the cab would have been about 15E–we love doing things that are what the everyday folks do and save money at the same time. This is what makes our trip so enriching. By the way, it was so easy, just hand the driver the 1E and take a comfortable seat and watch for your stop–the stops are well marked on the bus as well as on the stops themselves. It probably took five minutes more than the cab and involved an extra block of walking and saved 13E. After all that, the Museum was closed! Major sadness for Kathy because Chagall is probably her favorite modern artist. She prayed that God would show us why we did not know the museum was closed on Tuesdays.

We saw a steep stairway leading down to the city in the reasonable direction from which we came. We looked at each other and I said, “Want to take a walking adventure?” Down we went. Along the way, we passed mainly older men playing a game on gravel courts with silver metal balls something like Bocci Ball. We stood and watched a game and noted that the men had cords with big magnets on the end that they used to pick up the balls so that they did not have to stoop down. We kept walking and found French kitchen and appliance stores and saw the French modern concept of kitchen design. Frankly, fantastic and nothing I have see in America yet. Just know that plexiglass counters in colors and shaped in all kinds of ways but with plumbing concealed in the contours is coming and that laminate tops are coming back, but not in any form you have seen it and that tile in rectangular shapes is “in” in all kinds of applications.

Continuing our walk we got closer to our hotel, but I didn’t look at the map and so we were a little lost and there it was–a beautiful Lutheran Church. I rang the bell on the gate and high above a woman opened a window and could speak English and we found that at 6:30 PM there is evening prayer for Holy Week. That is why I am posting early today, because the church turned out to be only 3 short blocks from our hotel, and we are going to Holy Week prayer. Kathy said her prayer was answered! And so it was. WEG

We fell in love with train travel again today as we skirted the Mediterranean all the way from Genoa, Italy, to Nice, France. Wonderful views greeted us around every bend in the geography. Italy with weathered buildings and snow capped mountains and flat terrain next to the sea gave way in France to pastel colored and more modern buildings and cliffs that jutted into the sea.

When we set foot in Nice, the weather was superb–bright and warm with a cool breeze. We are immediately impressed with Nice. The walk along the Mediterranean, the Promenade of the English, is beautiful. The old town is so very French. We ate at a wonderful bistro. How do the French cook with such panache and satisfying taste? My starter salad was called prawns and spinach. It came in a heavy glass square bowl with grapefruit and orange sections over baby spinach and shrimp with a light cream sauce seasoned with basil. Simple, different, tasty and elegant. The meal got better from there, but ended with caramel ice cream and caramel granola sticks topped with whipped cream with sprinkles of caramel. Kathy and I went for a walk to burn a few calories. Nice is an elegant city. It has history and we will see some of the historic buildings tomorrow, but it is in the middle of the French Rivera on the Mediterranean coast surrounded by bays and mountainous cliffs so the scenery is outstanding, the weather is fantastic and the city ambiance is outstanding. WEG

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Genoa turned out to be a wonderful surprise of beauty. It has the narrowest alleys we have seen so far and there are many of them. Its harbor is a delight with its natural curved coastline sloping up into a hill and filled with boats and ringed with a wonderful walkway lined with shops and restaurants. It is also the birthplace of Christopher Columbus and they are proud of that.

The cathedral San Lorenzo is quite magnificent with a main altar area lined with imposing statutes of Biblical characters and a stunning fresco painted high above. The cathedral is an odd mixture of styles that find harmony. But it is the Church of Jesus that took my breath away. I was not expecting this wonder of Baroque art when I pulled open the door. In fact, we almost passed it by, but I saw an open door in what looked like a church and just went for it. And boom, overwhelming motion in art–that is the Baroque style–motion. Then to my surprise, we read–in Italian–verified later in English, that several of Peter Paul Rubens’ great paintings are on the altars of this wondrous church. People were coming still late in the evening with offerings of palms on this Palm Sunday.

Sometimes, the most satisfying things happen when you do not expect them to happen. Like finding that Genoa, a city most tourists pass by, was a jewel and quite a satisfying place to visit. WEG

Why is it that we leave souvenirs to the last moment? There are street vendors everywhere selling their wares. Trinkets, sunglasses, umbrellas, little squishy balls that have a face on them and light gizmos that fly in the air sellers abound on every street and then there are the big markets. One stretches along the River Arno from the Ponte Vecchio Bridge (the one in all the pictures of Florence that has shops selling mostly gold jewelry built into it) all the way to where the Uffizi Gallery connects to the river, about four blocks long, that sells mainly paintings and children’s wooden toys and t-shirts. The big leather market is in the arcades around the Uffize Gallery–anything made of leather is here and the merchants are really good at drawing you in–how they know we are from America without hearing us speak is amazing–as they ask, “which state are you from” in English, hoping to get us to stop. The market around San Lorenzo Church and the Medici Chapel is huge and varied in products–leather, silk, cashmere and jewelry predominating. The sellers here are in stalls in front of stores. Once you stop to look, they quickly try to whisk you into the store where everyone inside is trained on how to get you to buy something. You can easily be tag-teamed with workers telling you which looks best and bringing all the colors out to view and giving you “deals.” Did someone say, “Deal?” Hooked Kathy every time! WEG

The light gizmos light up Piazza della Signoria.

As our departure looms, the Tuscan Moon is still shining over Palazzo Vecchio tower.

And chicken legs is still on her perch.

What better way to end a day than under the Tuscan Moon with your wife at your side? Can’t really think of anything right now. The setting was magical–the moon was drifting above the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio in Piazza della Signoria. The great statuary of the Piazza was lit with soft light. The copy of Michelangelo’s David–the real one is in the Accademia just a few streets away–towered above us as we ate our evening meal in an outdoor restaurant in the Piazza. The weather was splendid and hundreds of people were in the Piazza, which is quite expansive, milling around all the great statuary. The Palazzo Vecchio was the city center for centuries. When its mighty bells pealed, it was for only one purpose–to call the citizens to the piazza because the city leaders had something important to convey–oftentimes war was imminent as Florence vied with Siena, Pisa and Genoa for supremacy in the region–a battle that Florence eventually won. Tonight the bells pealed, not for war, but for our enjoyment under the Tuscan moon.

I want a brick oven! Last night brick oven focaccia bread, tonight calzone. The crust was thin and crisp with oven burns on the top. The ham, artichokes and mozzarella blended in wonderful harmony. I am sure it is the intense heat that makes the difference in baking these Italian staples. It is so wonderful! Even more so eaten under the Tuscan Moon. WEG