Letter From Paris

By Harriet Welty-Rochefort

Paris Kiosque - October 1997 - Volume 4, Number 10
Copyright (c) 1997 Harriet Welty-Rochefort - Used with permission.

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The thing about living in Paris, as I believe I've said before in this column, is that it's so handy to get out! Once you leave, you are astonished by two things: l) that in this country, which someone once told me would fit into Texas (anyone out there want to verify that?) there is such an incredible and accessible variety of scenery in such a small space, and 2) that you can fly anywhere in France in an hour or less - but no more!

These are two definite plusses that I often take advantage of.

Before the summer vacation, I hopped on a train to meet a friend in Strasbourg. Four and a half hours after I had left the Gare de l'Est (if you fly, it's only an hour!), she and I were lunching on a terrace contemplating Strasbourg's splendid Gothic Cathedral, one of the most beautiful in France. Then off we went for a drive down the Wine Road, sipping wonderful chilled Sylvaners and Rieslings, and my favorite, Gewurztraminer (perhaps it's my favorite because it took me so long to pronounce the name correctly!). Fairy tale villages with blue, green, purle, and orange half-timbered houses, each more perfect than the next, kept us ogling, as did the sight of storks on rooftops. Alsatian villages are pretty and neat, I was told by a native, because there is an extremely low tolerance for sloppiness. One day, he said, he had slept late and hadn't swept in front of his door. It wasn't long before he heard about it, in no uncertain terms, and he never shirked his duty again.

Since my friend, an architect, was doing a study of Alsatian houses, she would bravely knock on doors and sometimes we would get invited in. One woman, 77-year-old Marthe, sat us down in her kitchen, served us coffee and cookies, and regaled us with tales of village life. It's changed now, she says. The village grocery store has shut down and now people have to find a way to get to the huge supermarket several miles away. The café has gone the way of the grocery store, so instead of people getting together chatting, they all stay at home watching the tube. Marthe's way of remaining in contact with the villagers is to deliver their mail. Every morning at 5 am, she wheels out her bike and she's on her way. "Isn't it absolutely freezing in winter?" I ask. "It's cold," she admits, "but I wouldn't give up this job for anything in the world."

Sunny Provence, where I spent my summer vacation, is a different story. First of all, it's much more well-known and second, I can't quite imagine a Provencal telling another Provencal to get out there and sweep up his front yard. The Provencal is just too Latin to think that order and discipline is a good thing! Two different provinces, two different mentalities.

In Provence, the villages are also picture-pretty, perched on mountain tops or rocky spurs. My travels took me from the high cliffs of the Gorges de Verdon to Tourtour, "the city in the sky", to the Massif de la Sainte Baume where Mary Magdalene is said to have lived in a cave for thirty-three years. A tour of Avignon, the City of the Popes, Arles, my absolutely favorite southern city, the villages of the Vaucluse, and back to Paris, my head filled with memories of this beautiful land.

You might conclude at this point that I'm ready for another vacation? In Alsace? Or Provence? Of course I'm ready for another vacation, but there are plenty of places left to see or see again--the Loire, Brittany, the entire southwest...

Meanwhile, after a few days of ominous rumbling and grumbling about crowds and pollution and threats to retreat to some peaceful village somewhere, I have re-integrated Parisian life so thoroughly that it seems like I never left. It will surely soon be time for another vacation.

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Harriet Welty-Rochefort, a bona fide Midwesterner from Iowa, visited Paris for the first time while in college. She became so completely enamored of France that she stayed - and has been there ever since. Married to a Frenchman and the mother of two Franco-American boys, Harriet Welty-Rochefort writes on business, lifestyle and travel for major U.S. publications. Her book - French Toast - is a lighthearted look at French manners and mores. Online orders as well as telephone/fax orders (1-800-387-8992 in the USA only) are possible. It is also available at all major English language bookstores in Paris. Writes Leslie Caron: French Toast includes the most delightful barbs at France's subtle but deep-rooted codes of behaviour...I read the book on the EuroStar between Paris and London and wished the train had not reached its top speed of 300 kph! Harriet can be contacted at 101676.467@compuserve.com.