Currently enjoying Linda Mathieu’s Blog, Frenchless in France in which her guest blogger, Emily is doing a great job of sharing Provence. I’ve only ever been to Provence in the winter (February, for my birthdays), but I actually really love it then. It’s when you get to really see the towns without fighting mobs of tourists or unhappy hosts. The smell of fireplaces going, the mistral winds, the seasonal cooking of food so thick and warm it sticks to your belly. But, I confess, I’m a little envious of those who get to see it in spring and travel the fields barefoot.

One of my favourite places to stay in Provence regardless of the seasons is the self-catered gite, le pigenonnier in Isle sur la Sorgue. The flat is beautiful, modern but still French and the breakfasts are amazing. The location is perfect (if you have a car) in which to explore the area. And the hosts? Amazing though you’ll have to learn (basic) French to speak with them.

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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Last year I had my birthday breakfast in Odense with my mum (above), followed by a perusing of one of my favourite little towns and then a dinner with one of my favourite cousins, Kurt and his daughter and two grandchildren. It was a very, happy day that involved lots of tea, food, walking and family.

In my life I’ve only had one birthday party (and I was 31!) and one cake (again at 31). But that doesn’t mean I’m not one to celebrate - I am. But my birthday has always been celebrated with adventure - a tradition began by my father. He’s take me into “the big city” for the day (either by coach or train, so exciting!) and we’d have a fancy dinner out and I’d learn the history of every building. So that’s why I associate travel with my birthday and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate. The only downside is that having a birthday in February means that more often than not, snow is involved!

My birthday is in exactly one month and it looks like I’m going to be (unexpectedly!) in Ireland, a place I’ve never been to. I’ll be focusing on the Southwest with a base in Cork then 5 nights in Dublin before heading home.

If anyone has any travel advice for the areas above, please let me know.

(And just to let you know, I’ll be starting a Girls Guide to City Life, Dublin guide shortly!)

My secret beach in Carmel had beautiful, tall trees and flowers that kept trying to grow amongst the white sandy beaches. It was quiet, peaceful and beautiful. I’d go here when I needed to feel the same.

Then last week rough weather approached and for a few days the secret beach was dark and clung to desperately to its winter beauty. The clouds rolled over the regular beach, too, creating massive waves and ominous skies. But the beach, though darker, was unchanged. Although the winds and waves were kicking up, the white sand tried so hard to stay, hiding things underneath while letting selective things grow. It wasn’t ready for the change and tried to pretend nothing was happening.

It’s just winds and waves said the beach and those who came - this is how it always is. You think something will happen but really, it doesn’t. We pretend to ooh and ahh and watch the show but truthfully, it’s just show.

But then a storm really came; trees were down, power was out for two days, hurricane winds pelted down over 6 inches of rain in 24 hours. The view from my flat was usually beautiful but I couldn’t see through the rain or clouds and at night it was pitch black with no solace from a candle. It was an isolating, scary and humbling three day period because no one was really prepared.

When the worst of the storm was over the dog and I were itching to walk and so to our beach we went, expecting just to see some big waves and dark skies as before. Yet when we arrived we found the beach very much changed.

It was bare - there were no people or beach; just new cliffs with a small bit of sand below full of seaweed. It wasn’t safe to walk on, it smelled bad from everything washing out - then back - to shore. It was in transition and no one - and nothing - wanted to be there. And so we left wondering if it would ever be the same as before.

Of course it wouldn’t. Nothing stays the same after a storm.

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Carmel by the Sea, California was one of America’s first artist colonies and gathered momentum after the 1906 earthquake had many of San Francisco’s artists fleeing to the beauty and inspiration of Carmel. But it wasn’t until 1924 when Hugh Comstock built the above 280 square foot cottage for his wife’s doll collection did the town take on the fairytale feel that it’s known for today.

It’s interesting to note that Comstock had no previous building/architectural experience and used no regular tools while he hand built the cottage. He simply had vision combined with will and away he went. The results were charming and extraordinary which made the other local artists crave the romance and whimsy he had created. Afterall, artists don’t want to live in boxes - especially not in a sea side forest town. So locals began to ask Comstock to build their houses and he obliged; building dozens of charming homes around Carmel which helped create a feeling of magic that people from around the world now come to see.

Land was originally sold extremely cheaply and homes were built without great expense. Now these homes are worth millions (the average home sale here being about $4 million U.S.) but they began with simple intentions by people who wanted to live somewhere beautiful, have their home reflect their dreams and create a unique way to live and work. A lot of thought when into the design of not only the homes, but the community that lived here, the streets, the shops and the future of the town. Urban planning 1920’s style.

Cottage Living Magazine has a wonderful article on the Comstock cottages - the physical issue has a map so you can talking a walking tour which I highly recommend doing. It might just get you rethinking home design - that character, whimsy and beauty isn’t just for those with A-List architects or bazillions. People once did it with little and it can be done again (for of course a little more!). It just takes an idea, some creativity, and work. But the results? Pretty spectacular I think.

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!

Everytime I travel I always hear from others how lucky I am; how they wish they could get away. But as I prepare for two more trips within the next month, I tell you, there’s nothing more I want to do than stay at home.

I think sometimes we feel like our cities aren’t so grand or as interesting as say, Paris but there’s something to every place - sometimes you just have to look.

This is one of the reasons I created Girl’s Guide to City Life a few years ago. I wanted to have locals write about their city for other locals who perhaps don’t always have the time to make discoveries.

So if you need to get away but can’t actually hop aboard a jet plane, hop on your local transit, your bike or if you have to, your car and drive into your city. Even book a hotel if you want. Then explore and pretend your far, far away…

I’m a huge believer in not buying trinket souvenirs for a couple of reasons; first, they hardly ever support the local economy and second, you hardly ever use them (when was the last time you used that plastic playing card set turned keychain?). But I do believe in bringing things home from your travels; living souvenirs.

As I wrote previously, Danes love their candles; they burn everywhere from public sidewalks to windowsills. To remind me of this and incorporate the calm and beauty they provide, I bought two different candle holders from two of Denmark’s best known designers - Georg Jensen (stainless steal tea light holders) and Royal Copenhagen ( Mega Tea light Porcelain holder). I bought them from the boutiques instead of a department store or design house; there’s something special about doing it that way, especially since they wrap it up for you so lovely (a little present to unwrap when home. Love that!). When I burn candles in them, I’ll think of my trip.

I also purchased some tea bits from Bodum, wonderful Italian stainless teaspoons from a little home store in Copenhagen, a jacket from H&M (ok, not Danish but close!) and sweater dress. In Ribe, I stepped into a little shop that sold nothing but things from Scandinavian artists and I happened to fall in-love with a little glass girl made by Krebs Keramik. The reason? I draw stick figures and this is exactly how I draw myself! My mother ended up purchasing this for me as my birthday gift so now when I look at the lovely glass girl, I’ll think several happy thoughts.

I also picked up a Danish design book and some magazines. Oh! The magazines! Boligliv and Isabellas. I bought so many copies for myself and friends that some store clerks actually asked if I was crazy (do you know you bought three copies of the same magazine? Would you not prefer to read different magazines?).

There are sheets, duvets, pillows and some linens to come so when I fall asleep at night I can dream about when I return (hopefully to live full-time). It might seem expensive to buy these things overseas but there’s a value - great living memories instead of useless junk lying about.

Then there are just ideas I bring home, like the heart pictured above which is from my grandfather’s family plot near Skidby. They’re created to protect the little flowers from the harsh winter winds but created to be beautiful as well as useful. There were other ideas from tulips to candles that I took pictures of to recreate at home. These are truly the living memories.

I must confess that most of my Danish sayings are gammel dansk or old Danish. I grew up saying farvel for good-bye (it translates as “farewell”). There is something a little sad, I think, in this word just as there is with “Good-Bye” - those words sound so final. As though you are saying, “this is the end.”

So I was happy to discover that in Denmark there is a new way of saying goodbye - hej, hej or quite simply, hi, hi. It is said in a very quick, high, charming, sing-song way no matter who says it. This word has taken over and replaced the old farvel which is good for me. Because in a few short hours I leave Copenhagen and I so don’t want it to be fare well. I want it to be, hi hi.