I had never traveled to the south of France, but when my friend Jennifer offered me the use of her tiny house in tiny St. Nazaire de Ladarez, I knew I had to go. My friend Yoshiko was available to come, too. Much of the trip was about miracles--me, who was nervous even about catching a cab in New York, would manage to drive a rental car from the Barcelona airport at rush hour (or maybe they're always rushing in Barcelona), handle a stick shift (which I hadn't done for decades except for a quick brush-up session in my friend Janet's car--I do have such brave friends), and find my way to our destination--a four-hour drive. And what a beautiful drive--the snow-capped Pyrenees on one side and the Mediterranean on the other for much of the way. And there's nothing like getting lost for meeting lovely, helpful people. I met a lot of lovely, helpful people.
As I was locking our door on our last morning, I heard a splash and saw a torrent of soapy water come spilling down the street. Just a last little miracle.
If you'd like to see more pictures of our trip, click here.
The poetry of shoes
1 day ago