Winter in Saint Raphael

Saint Raphael is a lovely small city on the French Riviera (also known as the Cote d' Azur or the Blue Coast) with a population of about 37,000 people. It has a rich history and dates back to Roman times when it was a resort destination for the Romans. We were here for the first time about twenty years ago after we had attended a scientific conference in Montpellier), and I remembered the impression it made on me. At that time, we decided to drive a bit along the Riviera and settled on renting a hotel room for a couple of days in Saint Raphael; the hotel was on the water quite close to a marina. As luck or fate would have it, the apartment that we've rented now for two weeks is right across the street from that hotel. I didn't plan it that way, but I'm pleased with how it worked out. What I remember from my first visit here was that the city had an old-fashioned feel to it that I liked; it wasn't glitzy or clubby like St. Tropez. 

Saint Raphael is an idyllic place for so many reasons. It’s the way the city makes me feel as I stroll along its harbor promenades or in the parks by the ocean. When the sun is out, the city’s beauty truly shines (that's often true anywhere in the world). The waterfront buildings and the palm trees scattered everywhere are simply charming. Among the many cities along the Riviera—like St. Tropez, Cannes, and Nice—I prefer Saint Raphael because it’s not overly touristy. It still welcomes visitors, but without the flashy, exclusive vibe of St. Tropez or Cannes, which seem geared toward the wealthy. Saint Raphael feels less commercialized—perhaps that’s the best way to put it.

That idyllic atmosphere creates a peaceful feeling that is often lacking in daily life. Of course some of what I feel is weather-dependent. Every city I've ever visited or lived in in looks lovelier when the sun shines. We arrived here this past Sunday and have enjoyed two sunny blue-sky days and one rainy day. Today is another sunny day and I'm hoping the rest of our stay will have more sunny days, even though rain is predicted for next week. The temperatures don't get much higher at present than about 50 degrees, but that beats hometown Oslo by a mile, where the temperatures are in the teens, much like Tarrytown and the Hudson Valley where I grew up. So even though it is winter here in southern France, it's a comfortable winter. We can walk outdoors in the sunshine for three or four miles each day, something that is difficult in the cold and often icy city of Oslo during the winter. I wish that Oslo would clear its sidewalks in a more efficient way so that everyone could get out and walk during the wintertime. But they don't. It's a crap shoot as to which sidewalks get cleared and which ones don't. So I'll take 50 degrees and clear sidewalks. I don't need much more than being able to walk outdoors to make me happy. On the rainy day we drove to Cannes along the coastal road but didn't stop there, and then drove on to Nice where we walked a bit. We visited the Cathédrale Saint-Nicolas de Nice, the Russian Orthodox Cathedral, which was quite impressive. Nice is a fairly big city and very confusing to drive in. I prefer Saint Raphael as it is more navigable. One day I'd like to return to Nice to explore it, but then I'll live in the city and use public transportation to get around. 

I like being surrounded by beauty, the ocean, the crashing waves, the sunlight reflecting off the water. I like watching couples and retirees out walking along the waterfront promenade in the sunny weather. Many of them own dogs of all sizes, who revel in being able to run along the beach or just to walk along the promenade with their owners. I like being able to sit on the mosaic-tiled concrete benches along the promenade to soak in the sun, or watching the musical carousel spin. I like the feeling of not having to do much of anything at all. That's vacation. I'm grateful, as always, for the chance to experience these different places after the health issues I had last year. I take nothing for granted anymore, and so I live in the moment and enjoy each moment to the fullest. 

Here are some photos taken during our walks around Saint Raphael: 

taken at dusk 

a canal where the tide flows in and out during the day

the beach and the ocean

the garden park in front of the apartment complex where we're living

the apartment complex where we're living 

one of many palm trees

one of two old-fashioned carousels in the city

the guardian archangel Raphael who protects the city

a city with lovely architecture

more palm trees

the Hotel Excelsior where we ate lunch one day

Photos from our visit to Charleston South Carolina

the lovely promenade along the city's east waterfront

celebrating palm trees--there are many of them in Charleston

a house still decorated for Christmas--note the beautiful architecture

on our walk to the Battery (the southern tip of the city)

the Battery area 

loved this frog sculpture--reminded me of Mr. Toad from The Wind in the Willows

Boone Hall--made famous in the film The Notebook 

the Avenue of Oaks at Boone Hall--note the Spanish moss hanging from the trees

our charming and relaxing back porch or veranda as it's often called 

Houses on Rainbow Row

the ferry that took us out to the island where Fort Sumter is located

the house on Coming Street where we lived (on the second floor)

gorgeous architecture in Charleston 

the entrance to the City Market--a pretty cool place 

another gorgeous house 

one of the houses on Boone Plantation where the slaves lived

at Boone Plantation--learning about the Gullah culture

 

A visit to Charleston South Carolina

The new year kicked off with a new travel adventure with friends Jean and Maria. Florida has been our go-to destination for the past two years, but this year we set our sights on South Carolina. We decided that Charleston, with its rich history, charm, and reasonably warm weather, would be ideal. We traveled there during the first week of January, and that was a smart move, since the weather in Charleston cooperated with our plans. It was sunny and warm most of the week, with temperatures in the high 60s to low 70s most days. We had no problems traveling there, thankfully, since that can be a problem during wintertime. Nor did I have any problems flying into and out of Newark airport. When I look at how much snow the New York area has gotten this past week, I'm glad I wasn't flying into the area this week as there would definitely have been travel delays or flight cancellations. Additionally, temperatures in Charleston are chillier now compared to the first week in January, and I just saw today that snow is forecast for the Charleston area this coming weekend. 

We rented the entire second floor apartment of a charming old southern-style house not far from King Street, which is known for its many shops, restaurants and hotels. The two-story house had side porches on each level that ran the length of the house in addition to a back porch off the master bedroom on each floor. We arrived on a Sunday and settled in. Monday morning found us at a Publix supermarket shopping for a week's worth of groceries. We agreed that we would eat dinner out most nights and we did, with visits to the restaurants Felix, Prohibition, By the Way, and Hyman's Seafood, all of which served very good food, with highlights like crab cakes, shrimp and grits, and grilled salmon, among other dishes. A visit to Charleston is a deep dive into early American history going way back to the Civil War and to the era of slavery in the United States. We explored Fort Sumter, Boone Hall Plantation and Gardens, the Old Slave Mart Museum, as well as the City Market, the French Quarter, and an area of the city called Rainbow Row. We did a lot of walking the first few days but also took a minibus tour around downtown historic Charleston another day. The American Civil War started in Charleston at Fort Sumter, and slavery in South Carolina was widespread. Slaves were bought and sold in Charleston at the site of the Old Slave Mart Museum, which is a sobering reminder of the horrors of slavery. 

It would be a good idea for most Americans to learn more about the history of their country. A visit to Charleston will immerse you in one of the more devastating and shameful periods of American history. It's hard to believe that we could have treated fellow human beings the way the slaves were treated. I was reminded of two books about slavery that I have read when we visited Boone Hall Plantation and Gardens and The Old Slave Mart Museum: 12 Years A Slave by Solomon Northup (12 Years a Slave: Solomon Northup: 9781631680021: Amazon.com: Books), and The Invention of Wings (Amazon.com: The Invention of Wings: 9780143121701: Kidd, Sue Monk: Books by Sue Monk Kidd. I can recommend them both, as they made a huge impact on me. You will not soon forget them. 

In my next post, I'll include some photos of the places we visited in Charleston. 

Photos from our travels in north Norway this past July

As promised, and long overdue, here are some photos from our memorable trip to north Norway this past July. I wrote a post about our travels there and posted it on October 26th A New Yorker in Oslo: Travels in northern Norway this past July  The photos will follow (more or less) the chronology of our trip. 

Nidarosdomen in Trondheim

view of the west coast of Norway from our boat

Our boat--the Midnight Sun (Midnattsol)

Storøya--one of the ports along the route to Tromsø

greenish water in Trollfjorden

the red peaks of the Trollfjord mountains, at midnight

leaving Trollfjord and moving into a blanket of fog

Finnsnes--another stop on the Hurtigruta

Arctic-Alpine Botanic Garden in Tromsø

Arctic-Alpine Botanic Garden 

view of Tromsø harbor and the restaurant Skarven (at the end of the road)

The Arctic Cathedral in Tromsø

another view of the Arctic Cathedral

The Cathedral of the Northern Lights in Alta 

view of ocean from Alta waterfront

view of ocean from the Alta Museum 

rock carvings at the Alta Museum--a World Heritage center

the interior of the Cathedral of the Northern Lights in Alta

sunset from hotel window in Luleå

The Fixx - Saved By Zero

Tears For Fears - Sowing The Seeds Of Love

The world at present is a mess. It needs more love and less pride, hate and greed. 

Deciphering Clarice Lispector's writing

The books by Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector were recommended to me by a friend who likes her work. I recently purchased two of Lispector's books, Near to the Wild Heart, her first novel published in 1943, and An Apprenticeship, or The Book of Pleasures, published in 1968. Two books published twenty-five years apart, just to get an idea of how she wrote and evolved as a writer. Based on these two books alone, I can truthfully say that I will not be reading more of her work. It's not that I think that she's not a good writer, I just don't think she is a great writer. 

I found it very difficult to get through Near to the Wild Heart. Fragmented is the best way I can describe the book and the experience of reading it. It was disquieting to try to pull it all together, to piece together the substance of her novel. The feeling while reading it was not a pleasant one; I struggled. Not so much to understand what the story was about (a woman, her early life, her husband, his lover, and eventually her lover), but how she chose to go about it. The disjointedness and the fragmentation were jarring. The main character, Joana, is a young woman with considerable mental problems-- a hypersensitive woman who dissects herself and her thoughts continually, ad nauseam. She does not live her life, she rather observes it, as though she stands outside herself. She wants to live life, but she is unable to, whether by choice or by virtue of some mental affliction. She is disconnected from herself (and others), yet hypervigilant about what each thought and utterance means, hers and others. She is constantly aware of herself and her thoughts almost immediately after thinking them, but much less so of her feelings. Or if she is aware of her feelings (hyper-aware), she analyzes them continuously in a kind of stream of consciousness (no limits on her thoughts or expression of them), such that they are dissected away into a state of feelinglessness. Suffice it to say that a normal person cannot live this way and does not behave this way; her behavior borders on madness, on craziness, and a normal reader can feel the madness. At least that was the effect on me. I couldn't wait to finish the book; I considered abandoning the book halfway into it, but decided to finish it so that I could evaluate it properly. There were parts of the book where Lispector pulls the narrative together into an understandable story, only to be followed by more disintegration and descent into fragmentation and discordance. The only aspect of the book that you could bet on as you near its end is the knowledge that Joana will continue to behave in the same vein as when the book opens. It seemed to me that as she evolved and grew older, her same state of mind grew worse, if that was possible. I'm not sure how insanity is defined, but Joana's life comes close to some kind of definition of it. 

I read An Apprenticeship, or The Book of Pleasures, before Near to the Wild Heart. The same tendency toward disjointedness and fragmentation was present, but much less so than in Near to the Wild Heart. Lispector had by this time grown older (by twenty-five years) and had married and had children. Perhaps that had a stabilizing effect on her. In any case, this book had a reasonably happy ending (Lori and Ulysses end up together) but not before Lori undergoes personal transformation/evolution in order to be able to meet Ulysses at his level. It's a strange book in that he seems to be the mentor and she the mentee, so in that sense it is an unbalanced relationship. She must evolve to his higher emotional and philosophical 'level' (his perception of himself) in order for them to be lovers, per his requirement. I found his behavior to be unkind and cold at times, and I wondered why she wanted to be with him at all, especially when he finally admits to her that he is as 'lost' and confused as she is about the big questions in life. 

Deciphering Clarice Lispector's writing was perhaps an ambitious title for this post. Based on the two books I've read by her, I don't think I accomplished that. But I give myself credit for forcing myself to finish these two novels. Because when she did manage to pull the narratives together, I found myself wanting her to continue to do that, because that's when the books became engaging to me. I understand that others may have different opinions about her writing, and that's fine. But I don't think reading should feel like a chore, and with her books, it did. My next book will be a detective story or something similar; I simply don't have the patience anymore to try to wade through a dense tangle of random thoughts and feelings in the quest to understand life, because it is not possible to reach the goal. Life cannot be fully understood, it must be lived in order to achieve some small amount of understanding about our place in our life and the lives of others. 

Happy 2026!

(image by FreePik)

The society we live in

How would we make it through the years without humor? Without pointed commentary about the weird society we live in? Thank God for cartoonists, apolitical and political. They make us laugh and they remind us of our own small idiosyncrasies and idiocy. As always, Non Sequitur delivers. 

My little garden friend

I've been feeding the birds in the garden for the past two weeks. It's gotten harder for them to find food. There hasn't been any snow, but it's been cold and frost has formed on the grass, plants, and bench, and the ground has become quite hard. 

Last year around this time, I became aware of the presence of a sweet little robin, a European robin. They are much smaller than their American counterparts. He would fly to the bird feeder while I was filling the holders with seeds, and just sit there, watching me. Sometimes he was an arms-length away from me. He was curious about me and unafraid. If I moved to another part of the garden, he would fly to where I was and watch me intently. It seemed as though he and I were to be good friends. But then my life took another turn. 

My last visit to the cold winter garden was in mid-February, after which I battled influenza and then had surgery for a faulty cardiac mitral valve. I didn’t return to the garden until late May, by which time the birds were finding their own food, so feeding them was no longer necessary. Still, I kept feeding them. My little robin friend did not show during the summer or autumn months. But I kept hoping he would. 

One day last week, he suddenly reappeared, and it was as if he had never left. He perched at the feeder, patiently waiting for me to finish filling it. When I sat on the bench in front of the greenhouse, he flew over to be close to me, strolling across the frost-tipped grass near my feet. Then he hopped onto the bench and let me take a few photos of him. Here's a photo of him posing. He's a cutie. 

The Rascals - It's A Beautiful Morning

I woke up this morning and this song popped into my mind. This is the music we grew up with, and thank God for that. It is a cold day here in Oslo, but the sun is shining and that always makes my day brighter. Peace to all. 

Lyrics

It's a beautiful morning, ah

I think I'll go outside for a while and just smile

Just take in some clean fresh air, boy

(Ain't) no sense in staying inside

If the weather's fine and you got the time

It's your chance to wake up and plan another brand-new day

it's a beautiful morning, ah

Each bird keeps singing his own song, so long

I've got to be on my way now

(Ain't) no fun just hanging around

I got to cover ground, you couldn't keep me down

It just ain't no good if the sun shines

When you're still inside (shouldn't hide)

Still inside (shouldn't hide)

Still inside (shouldn't hide)

Still in-, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh

Oo-ooh-ah-ah

Oo-ooh-ah-ah

There will be children with robins and flowers

Sunshine caresses each new waking hour

Seems to me that people keep seeing more and more each day

(Gotta say) lead the way

(It's okay) brand-new day

(Gotta say) it's okay

Wednesday, Thursday, it's okay

Oh, oh, oh-oh

Oo-ooh-ah-ah

Oh, oh, oh-oh

Oo-ooh-ah-ah

Whoa, oh, oh, oh-oh

Oo-ooh-ah-ah

Oh (ooh-ah-ah)

Oh, oh, oh-oh

Oo-ooh-ah-ah

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Felix Cavaliere / Edward Brigati

O Little Town of Bethlehem (with lyrics) - Beautiful Christmas Carol / H...

This is the reason for the season--why we celebrate Christmas. Wishing all my readers a joyful Christmas! 

The ghosts of Christmases past

I borrow this line from Charles Dickens. As this year draws to a close, and we celebrate another Christmas together with family and/or friends or alone in some cases, I am reminded of all those who are no longer with us physically. People say they are with us in spirit, and I know they are. But I miss their physical presence at Christmas, starting with my parents (my father passed away forty years ago and my mother twenty-four years ago) and my brother who passed away ten years ago. I carry on the traditions I grew up with (Christmas tree, decorating the house, buying a panettone, making cookies), and luckily I am married to a man who appreciates the importance of traditions and whose family had their own traditions. It's never been a problem to combine our different approaches, and if anything, it's made celebrating Christmas that much nicer. I miss my husband's father who passed away thirteen years ago. I introduced him to panettone and he was hooked from the first bite. He loved all things Italian, but he loved a lot of things about America, among them the variety of pies that we have. I miss my husband's aunt who passed away in January of this year; she spent many Christmases with us, first with her husband who passed away seventeen years ago, and then alone with us after he died. She would come to our house for a few days and we would enjoy preparing for Christmas together. When I stand in my kitchen now during this holiday season, I remember them all. I remember them making pies, making struffoli, peeling and prepping vegetables, and making holiday dinners. They are memories that 'bless and burn' as my mother used to say. My mother said so many wise things, and I remember her for that and so much more. She loved Christmastime and all the preparations during Advent. What I remember too about my parents is that they shared their faith, together and with us. They were not afraid to practice their faith, and that is a gift for which I am forever grateful. 

The ghosts of Christmases past. The spirits of those whom I've known and loved. For me, the ghosts are not there to show me what I could have done better in the past, as the ghost in Charles Dickens' The Christmas Carol does with Scrooge. I am acutely aware of the ways in which the past could have been better, but for the most part, the past as I remember it, together with family and friends, was a happy and innocent time until we moved on with our own lives. The darkness of life had not yet invaded our individual lives. Family problems were present but not overwhelming. We went to church and shared our faith with other believers. We sang carols and Christmas hymns at mass. We admired the life-size creche that the church set up every year. Those times were special, if for no other reason than that we were young and life was still ahead of us. 

We celebrated Christmas Day with our individual families, but in the evening, after the big dinner was eaten, we met our friends and walked around the neighborhood, laughing and chatting. Some years there was a lot of snow, so we made snowballs and tossed them at one another. My brother was often with us. Friends were family too. I look at photos from that time, where my friends are sitting on our living room floor while my parents and my aunt are sitting on the sofa behind them. Sometimes we visited our friends' houses, where their parents had made a feast (and some great desserts), and we enjoyed them too. 

The past is a place I visit at this time of year, at least in my heart. I carry the memories of those I've loved and who loved me, and who are now deceased, and I think about them during my day. Their spirits remain, their wisdom and kindness remain, their individualities remain. I am the sum of all of them, because all of them have helped to shape me. My life is richer because they were and are a part of it.  

I wish all my readers a joyful Christmas, wherever you are in the world.

Les Imprimés - Only Love - BC182-45 - B Side

Another song I love listening to!

Miel de Montagne - J'y Peux Rien (Official Audio)

Love this song!