If it’s Friday, it must be France …
See those cushions in the small alcove along the back wall? Settle in there today and let me share a few memories.
You may think these seats don’t look comfortable, but they are! More importantly though, is the overwhelming atmosphere of art and history that surrounds a visitor to this intimate bar. It’s one of our favourite places to stop by when we are in the area and I’ll tell you more about it in a later post. If you recognize it, let me know in your comment and we can reminisce!
Reminiscing is what I’m doing today, so I’m sharing a post I wrote for The Good Life France (my favourite online place to visit France!) last year.
It begins here …
The Summer of Love, 1967, was a special time to be young and in Europe. Canadian author Patricia Sands looks back at the time when she knew she was falling in love with France…
Backed by an endless soundtrack of psychedelic music and rock from the Beatles, the Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd and the Doors, to name just a few, and fuelled by the writing of Jack Kerouac and the Beat Generation, hordes of young people began to travel the world. Affordable airfare from North America and Europe on $5.00 a day made it all possible for many of us. My best friend and I backpacked through Europe, tattered Eurail passes guaranteeing our transportation: a rite of passage for many Canadians in those days. After spending a few months in England, we crossed the channel to Amsterdam by ferry. Meeting up with friends, we set off in our rented Volkswagen van to explore our way through France to the Costa Del Sol in Spain.
It seems to me that the moment we crossed the border, a major event entering every single country in those days, I fell in love with everything about France. I was 21 years old.
To read more, please click right here.
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Beautiful, my friend. As always.
Thanks, Kitt! It’s always fun to find you here!
The Sixties were also such a turbulent decade, Patricia, but I will refrain from marring such a bucolic setting with history. That seems like a perfect spot to sip pinot noir and reminisce about the past, or better yet, to move forward with living today.
Indeed there is a lot about the Sixties we can lament. That’s why I’m thankful to have such happy memories overcome the negative and troubled realities that also existed. Spending 1967 traveling and working in Europe was an effective way to build those memories. *feeling grateful*
Glorious, Patricia. You’ve transported me there with your post today. A la prochaine
Merci, Fransi. It would be great fun to meet you here for a chat and a glass or two of whatever. Perhaps one day …
I always thought I would go to France. My husband made it a few years ago.
Kathryn, I hope you do get there one day.
Ah yes, I remember it well; the dear old Colombe – where Simone met Yves and neither went home again, and they celebrated their wedding there – with the owner as witness – as did Gilda and Gene. Where Isadora danced and Zelda threw herself downstairs. And where the Lapin Provencal is to die for! Happy memories for us too.
Oh Ted, trust you to have a good story or two or twenty about that legendary spot!How lovely to find you here. Are you and Joan settled back in Nice for the winter?
Nice and cozy spot you have there. If you say the seats are comfy, I can’t refute that. I’m sold hook, line and sinker.
Totsy, you can sink into those cushions. No question! The stools, not so much … but they are still comfy and the buzz from just being there makes you forget everything else. Santé!