Growing up I heard stories of my Danish family’s involvement of the resistance during World War II (as Denmark was occupied by the Nazis for just under 5 years) and of course those of my French family (including those who served in WW1).

When I lived in England, my new friends told me story after story of what it was like to live in London during the raids or to be shipped off as a child off to families who lived in safer areas. I can remember walking London and being so close to two different bombing attacks by the IRA and wondering if history would never become just history.

And of course I, like most everyone, can tell you where I was on September 11, 2001.

I’m hoping and working towards a time when peace seems the norm; when a generation doesn’t have any war stories to tell their children. I’m doing my best to not judge, to not hate, to learn, to understand, to think, to extend an olive branch but most important, to remember.

Armistice Day is a public holiday in France and Belgium and is an observed holiday in the Commonwealth countries and in the United Sates (which calls it Veterans Day). During this day 2 minutes of silence is observed on 11/11 at 11AM to mark the end of WWI in 1918.

In May 1918 John McCrae wrote the infamous poem, In Flanders Field. The poem is part of Remembrance Day solemnities in allied countries which contributed troops to the First World War. I think it’s appropriate to share today, to give us a moment to reflect, and think. To be thankful, to be hopeful, to remember.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

Clotilde has a great little explanation of le 14 juillet so I would direct you there to find out more. My experience with this day is very similar to hers - no food celebrations but fireworks, fun, and a lot of reminiscing of the past (both of the country and our own).

As for me this year, it’s a quiet celebration. I was hoping to have gone to Santa Barbara to celebrate but couldn’t make it - next year perhaps. Instead I’ll crack a Crème Brûlée, watch Marie Antoinette and spend the entire day speaking French.

But should you wish to celebrate, here are some ideas:

• The Los Angeles Times has a list of celebrations going on.
• Apartment Therapy LA has a great list of French Films or films having to do with France.
• I have my own list along with French books and sites I adore.
• Susan Serra, the fabulous Kitchen Designer, has a great post of French Country Kitchens!

I’ll be heading to Paris shortly, a city I have mixed feelings about. I understand the greatness, the beauty, the history but I’m not exactly all that fond of it (although one of my favourite hotels ever, The Four Seasons Hotel George V, is there)and actually try to pass it over each time I return to France. But this time, I will find myself there for several days and will try to see it in a different light.

Yes, I think perhaps I might have been a little harsh on Paris in my previous post; it’s not that I really dislike Paris it’s just that there are so many other places I’d rather go because my interests are a little different than what most go to Paris for. But I will play local for a few days and so I have been trying to discover things to do that haven’t been done before.

Here’s a list of things I’ve come up with thus far (and welcome any suggestions):

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I must confess something: Paris is not one of my favourite cities. I have been many, many times and stayed in every part of town on the floors of friends and in some of the cities best luxury hotels. I have walked and lived the city like a local but I have never really fallen for it like everyone seems to. I’m not sure why that is (although the Four Seasons Paris is one of my favourite hotels ever).

But The Little Bookroom was kind enough to send me a copy of their new book, Paris Chic & Trendy and I actually began to become a little excited about going (despite the fact I’m neither chic nor trendy!). The book is square, tiny, and red - three things I love and the photos inside are gorgeous. It showcases 54 boutiques - some known, some not but all small and beautiful. It’s as though someone handed me a secret guide to make me instantly in the know without having to be in the know. Love that.

Perhaps my dislike of Paris is that it has always been so uber-chic and I am not. Maybe there is a studio or two here that will change that.

Stores I’m interested to visit:

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My French Life; Gordes, France.

Whilst searching for information on Australian author, Vicki Archer and her new book My French Life, I came across the Absolutely Beautiful Things blog which had reviewed the book (and had an update).

Australian interior designer (and owner of the shop Black & Spiro) Anna runs the blog showcasing great articles, photo’s and information. She’s especially good at showcasing people and things I don’t always get to see Stateside.

Her photos and notes on My French Life just reinforced my desire to return to live in France; Saint Remy de Provence is one of my favourite towns (with one of my favourite markets). Working on it.

Although I’m only half-French, France is the only place I feel whole; I adore it, I understand it, I feel it. I go as often as I can with plans to move permanently in about 7 years so that I can have a view like this. But for now it’s just yearly trips which always seem to take place in the winter, which perhaps not the prettiest, is the most intimate.

The Loire Valley holds my heart the closest I think. The first time I was there I felt instantly at home; I knew the back roads, I knew the buildings, I knew the people. I can’t explain how, it’s just one of those things, you know?

It was a very cold, dark, and windy day when I decided to forge out to Chenonceau (pictured above). I had never seen a picture of it, nor had I heard anyone ever talk about yet I knew the name and knew to go back. And on the day I went there was not another soul on site except for a handful of people working there.

I literally had the place to myself.

Of all the things I saw that day, the moment that was the most powerful for me was also the most quiet. I was on the 3rd floor in the hallway, standing still. All I could hear was the wind blowing through the windows and a slight banging of doors coming from some other corridor. Everything else was silent. Having this moment to myself gave me an experience that perhaps most visitors here don’t have. People rushing to see this room and that room. No one stops to hear the wind blow in the same way those who lived here before would have heard it. They don’t take in what a place like this means, they just take photographs.

One of the things I love most about the Loire in the Winter, and Provence for that matter, too, is how quiet it all is. There’s a sense of just a little sadness in the air; nature is dead for the season, it’s cold (the mistral winds in the south!), life seems a little harder but at the same time, there is a joy in the routine of the season. A beauty to. It’s in having the time to notice the wind, or in the case or Provence, the smell of the air. To see how cosy it is in restaurants from 12-2 because you just stop to eat and get warm with stew. In the winter, people have time to talk to you because they’ve claimed their home from the touriste. It’s in the conversation with a cheesemaker or winemaker and getting a little more of his secrets because you’ve had some time to develop a friendship - your a person instead of a passing face. There are so many beautiful, hopeful moments to just take it all in, to be. It’s why France has my heart in winter. And why I can’t wait to go back.

However, until I can here are some things that are tying me over:

Movies:

• Le Papillon (The Butterfly)
• Être et avoir (To be and to have)
• Château de ma mère
• Et Dieu… créa la femme (And God Created Woman)
• Une hirondelle a fait le printemps (A Girl from Paris)
• Les Choristes (the Choir),
• and of course, Amelie)

Websites:

• Chocolate and Zucchini
• Cakes in the City
• C’est moi qui l’ai fait!
• L’Amoire de Suzanne
• Frenchless in France

Also a list of my favourite books dealing with France, Marie Claire Idees Magazine, a list of my favourite French inspired music and NY Mag has a great bit on where to buy beautiful vintage clothes!

There are days when there’s a certain feeling in the air that reminds me of France. Perhaps it’s the brisk air outside, the neighbours wood burning fireplace that’s going or the fact that Amelie has been playing in the background all morning. Whatever it is, there’s a little joie de vivre happening today which has lead me to crave something baked right out of the oven and a little bit French.

Since packing up and boarding a plane aren’t viable options today, I settled instead on baking a traditional French yoghurt cake whilst playing some Carla Bruni to keep me in tune.

Let it be noted that I am not a baker; nine times out of ten I somehow fumble through a recipe and chalk the outcome to “experience” rather than a gastronomic treat. I keep returning to baking because there’s something about the basic process that soothes me.

I do not own a blender, a processor, fancy knives or dishware, so every recipe I own must be basic and simple. The ingredient lists always come from the local grocer rather than an exotic food mart and the names of the recipes themselves are always pronounceable. I’ll never be a fantastic baker but that doesn’t matter. There’s something so sweet to me to have the sun shining, the wind ruffling the curtains, music playing in the background and a little black cat at my feet that makes all the measuring, folding and cleanup worthwhile.

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Bonheur [boh(n)-URH]: French women know happiness is not a matter of luck; it’s what you make of your life. This word for happiness is literally “good time.” The French way of connecting feeling with time is telling. It suggests something to be cultivated in the course of our hours and days and months and years, how we live in relation to them. The English word happy comes from the archaic word hap which means “luck.” Interesting distinction. - Mireille Guiliano