It’s the last day of February and the best one yet. I am in Paradise aka Venice. The day started on the beach to the sound of waves and ended on the beach to the sound of crashing waves. Their relaxing rhythm soothes nerves like nothing else.
In the morning it was yoga with the sound of bongs, followed by a walk through the historic downtown Venice, topped with a cappuccino at Venice Wine & Coffee Co.
I love the core of this tropical town in southwest Florida with amazing architecture untouched by chains and corporate structures.
Then we shopped with mom Ella the souvenir shops on Venice Ave. I found what I was looking for twice today. The first time at Green Parrot and the second time at Nest on Miami Ave.
We changed for a farewell lunch on the town- the coveted Bromdon Mediterranean restaurant on Miami Ave. My parents had classic gyros and I had a salmon gyro.
I found this community located on an island very diverse with a strong Italian influence. It wasn’t unusual on any given day to hear people speak Russian, French or Spanish.
I am indulging in the sounds of the beach: Russian to the right, laughter to the right, kids straight up front and the crashing waves as far as I can see. The sun is warming my legs while my feet dig deep into the hot sand. It’s 82F and the sun is high above my head.
My backpack has everything I need: notepad and pens, suntan lotion, water, cash for a Blue Bait Margarita and magazines about living in Paradise.
I cannot omit the price this Paradise had to pay during hurricane Ian in September. Crews are still fixing the roofs and some signs have not been replaced. Otherwise you would not believe a hurricane blew through; just south of town.
We spent a great morning on the town starting with yoga with Elin on the beach to the sounds of Ukulele Thursdays. We took a walk on Miami Street in search of the Greek restaurant Bromdon. We browsed through the Island View Boutique with beautiful blings and resort wear. Hasta La Vista.
Mom Ella is doing much better today after her surgery. With strength she’s also getting back her attitude, just a tad.
I have to pick up on chapter Mara and the Revelation of the Great Singapore secret in the sequel to The Lost Town. More later.
I am meeting with Maple later today and mixing up some cocktail recipes.
Well, the meeting with Maple didn’t happen, but I met Pat, the board secretary instead. YAY!
To top off this incredible productive day, I managed to pop into Pages Promotions Winter Book Festival. I am still clueless as to who murdered author Andrew Allen Smith who stole the Sardonic Manuscript, but did he really or was he just framed?
To be continued…,
Copyright (c) 2023. Emma Blogs, LLC. All rights reserved.
Aboard Allegiant Flight 1600 from Punta Gorda to Grand Rapids
By Emma Palova
In Air- I
am leaving Florida eight days later, just like I have arrived, with the rain.
In between, the sun and the full moon graced the clear skies.
horizon, the turquoise sea touched the blue sky in a magnificent union.
the full moon on Feb. 18, a strong morning tide hit the Venice Beach washing
ashore shells galore and wracks wrapped in seaweed.
perfect morning cup inside a cockle shell was hiding the jewels from the sea;
small olive and bubble shells, sturdy jewel boxes and translucent jingle
I spent a
magnificent week in “Paradise” where the hibiscus bloomed in shades of orange,
the banana trees in white and the palms rendered orange ripe figs.
The front yards were tropical gardens with “Birds of Paradise” just opening up their orange beaks.
The sunsets were a splash from an artist’s palate of yellows, reds, oranges and browns.
It’s February- Soak it up, stir an argument
instructor Elin reminded us this morning to soak up the beach life in February.
walked here, laid in the sand, listened to the waves,” she said. “Soak it up.
Wednesday, Elin held up a large red leaf and said something about mailing it as
a postcard. Since, the wind carried Elin’s words into the sea, I missed the
details. For some odd reason, I thought it had to be a mangrove leaf.
I picked up some reddish leaves yesterday thinking they were mangrove leaves on the dune banks by Sharky’s. Yellow veins branched into the ripe red leaf. It resembled large grape leaves.
My hosts in Venice were my parents Ella and Vaclav Konecny of Michigan. They made fun of me because I believed in the USPS red leaf postcard program. I asked my dad to take me to the post office, so I could mail the red leaf. My mom Ella was convinced my prized leaf wasn’t a mangrove, and that I shouldn’t pursue mailing it.
Siri,” my dad said.
When I asked Siri, and she knew nothing about the mangrove leaf USPS mailing program, doubts also entered my mind.
came to the conclusion that it was an April Fool’s joke. In our homeland we
used the following prank:
“It’s like going to the store to get mosquito fat,” he laughed. “I am not going inside the post office with you.”
it’s not April Fool’s,” I refused to give up.
I found myself in the midst of an argument over the validity of the USPS leaf postcard mailing program.
your dad alone, he needs to get some rest,” mom snapped.
maybe we can wrap up some meat inside the leaf and make rolls,” I defended
my grounds sarcastically.
My dad who never gives up suggested that I ask Elin. After my last morning yoga session on the beach on Thursday, I made my way through Elin’s fans to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
“You pick up some sea grape leaves,” Elin said pointing to the banks by the beach house and take it to the post office. The postal workers get a kick out of it. A lady from my class sent out five of them the other day. The postage is under a dollar. Send it out within five days or they dry out and crumble.”
According to Elin, the post office can even put a dried out leaf in a cellophane.
told you, it wasn’t a mangrove leaf,” my mom persisted.
“You know they wrap up meat in grape leaves in Greece, right?” I snapped back.
Back home at the writing studio Feb. 22, 2019
Lowell, MI -That was it. I was running out of time to go to the post office, since I was flying out of Florida in the afternoon.
I wrote my address on the sea grape leaf, mom provided the stamps, and dad disguised the leaf in a sac and took it to the mailbox. Dad was convinced that I made a fool out of him.
unknown whether he put the sac with the sea grape leaf in the mail, or in the
bizarre way, we were all right; mom with her contention that it is not a
mangrove leaf, me with the sea grape meat rolls and dad with the April Fool’s
prank, that he had probably created by dropping the leaf in the trash.
MI – I am getting ready for my annual writer’s retreat in Florida. Each year in
February, I head down south to the Gulf coast to get some sunny inspirations
for my writings.
has become a tradition since the late 2000s to visit with my parents, who
winterize in Venice. Each year brings different insights; from dolphin
sightings, chats with fishermen to encounters with beach painters and sand
of my favorite memories are of course from the beach. I was walking on the
beach, when French-speaking tourists asked me where is the west. The sun was
just setting on the horizon to our right. So, I pointed in that direction.
merci,” they shook their heads laughing.
other one is from Sharky’s Pier. I walked on the pier boardwalk to watch the
was getting increasingly dark in the orange glow on the Gulf side, but the shore
was glistening in silver with the rising moon in the east. The contrast between
night and day was striking much like the characters in my stories. Some are
dark and shady from the very beginning like chief Will in the story “Chief” from
my new book “Shifting Sands: Secrets.” Copyright (2019) Emma Palova. Other
characters like manager Ricky go awry with time. Some characters shine bright
throughout the story like the Belrockton matron Doris in the story “Silk Nora.”
with its changing faces has always inspired me, as long as I can remember.
heart and a cross made from sea shells overgrown by beach grasses is a close third
runner up in the circle of inspirations.
asking yourself questions,” one of my former editors said.
years later, I ask myself: “Who made that statement in the sand and for whom?
How come it lasted?”
there are golden nuggets from the Floridians who have never left sunny Florida.
mean to tell us there is snow on the ground in Michigan?” guys asked me in disbelief.
of it. We have to stake the driveway for the snow plowing,” I said.
am looking forward to chatting with my parents about out immigration saga, now
spanning three generations.
love yoga on the beach with Elin Larsen and hundreds of her followers. Her DVDs
help me get through Michigan winters.
move,” Elin encourages.
Excerpts from the “Chief”
And now this mess just before the
holidays. In earlier years, he would light up to fight off the anxiety. He
couldn’t even do that anymore. Nervously, he tapped his fingers against his
thigh. He noticed he needed new pants.
Ricky in the meantime was staring blankly
into the Monday rain on Main Street. The rain mixed with a few snowflakes, and
his short drive to work was awful. And he wasn’t a good driver either. His
strategy was as always to wait out until the other side spills out all the
information putting him at the advantage. But this time it was taking longer
than usual. Ricky was afraid of eating the whole pencil. Plus, he had a long
day ahead of him with a meeting in the evening.
“I got a letter,” said the mayor pulling
out a folded sheet of paper.
Ricky looked directly at the mayor
“Did you want to read it to me, Carl?”
asked Ricky, “or you just want to tell me?”
The mayor too knew how slick Ricky was
from previous dealings with him. He decided to be careful this time.
“It’s about the chief,” he said softly.
Of course, Ricky should have known right
from the get go that it was about the police chief. The other day when he was
getting a haircut at Salon 111, he overheard a conversation from the
That was another bad habit in his
portfolio: eavesdropping coupled with gossip.[EP1]
“The chief was trying to change something
in a file and he got caught,” said the cute redhead hairdresser leaning over
the head of the lady in the chair fluffing her blonde hair.
“What was he trying to change?” the blonde
raised her eyebrows looking at herself and at the redhead in the mirror.
Both of them stared into the mirror, as if
the answer was inside that piece of glass.
Ricky rubbed his forehead, as he tried to
chase away that scene from the salon from his mind. He knew it was going to be
a long day and a long week in Riddleyville when the salons and the bars start
buzzing with tidbits from the city hall.
“What about him?” Ricky looked up at the
mayor. “He called in sick or what? I know it’s Monday and he worked the Ladies
Night Out and the weekend. I don’t have a problem with him calling in.”
As always Ricky was trying to steer the
conversation in his preferred direction.
“Somebody else can fill in for him tonight
at the meeting,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
Up North Straits of Mackinac Area attracts crowds, inspires a creative mind
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Mackinac Island, MI- It was a steady stream of cars heading Up North for the weekend last Friday. The traffic was a mix of hunters, fishermen, tourists, golfers and other adventurers.
Some braved the chill both in the air and in the waters of Lake Michigan and Lake Huron hauling kayaks, canoes, bicycles , seadoos and ATVs.
The ferries to Mackinac Island were packed full with people bringing their bikes with them. The waters in the straits were so wild that the catamaran rocked from side to side as the waves splashed over the panoramic windows.
In spite of the Friday rain, the Main Street on the island was lined with bikes. Some porters on bicycles carried the luggage in the baskets in front of them. I wondered how they could see.
Where horse is King
I discovered that on this island, where no motorized traffic is allowed except for snowmobiles, the horse has the right of way. And in peak season, there are 600 horses on the island. They are a way of life.
We did the one-hour buggy ride with horse Shorty inside the island.
“He was on a team, so he has a tendency to veer off to the left, just pull on the right reign,” said the friendly guy at Jack’s Livery & Stable located on Mahoney Ave.
After a while we found out, that Shorty was quite a character. Not only did he veer to the left, but he slowed downhill and went faster uphill. All the other carriage drivers knew him.
“Hi, Shorty,” they greeted him all around the route.
En route as we tried to make Shorty go left to the Arch Rock, Shorty wouldn’t do it and he showed it by whinnying. Having taken the long loop around the lake last year, it dawned on me that certain horses are trained to do certain routes. They won’t go any other way.
The horse handler back at the livery confirmed my insight.
“Yes, they are trained to go at walking speed and they will go only on their route.
Where lilacs take over
The staple event of the Mackinac Island is the annual Lilac Festival that takes place during the first two Sundays in June.
In search for the annual Lilac Festival poster, we stopped at the Island Bookstore inside the Lilac Tree Inn on Main Street.
“Some of our lilacs are 300 hundred years old,” said the clerk. “They come from Eastern Europe.”
“Yes, we had them in Czech Republic,” I said. “Now, we have them in our garden.”
Where projects abound
As a true newspaper woman, I buy local papers wherever I go. So, we bought the Town Crier and The St. Ignace News at the Doud’s Market. The oldest family owned grocery store in America, founded in 1884, serves as a lifeline for the 200-some permanent island residents.
Other than regular groceries, it has everything from kombuchas to a seafood case with octopus. This is where I rediscovered kombucha, a fermented tea made with cane sugar and yeast. The first time I heard of a kombucha was at the Calvin Festival of Faith & Writing in April.
When we got back to Murray Hotel, two buildings down the street, a headline in the advertising section of The Mackinac Island Town Crier struck me:
“Mackinac Island Harbor Beach Boardwalk Project.”
A full back page screamed: “Save our Island.”
Apparently, one of the freight operation owners, is proposing a boardwalk with access to the beach for all. The project would consolidate the freight operations into the two most historic docks, including the coal dock.
Mission Point Resort on the sunrise side
A short stroll from downtown took us through the alley to the beautifully restored Mission Point Resort. The last time I saw it, it was a dull greyish structure built in the early 1820s by a Protestant missionary Rev. William Ferry.
A couple from Texas bought the sprawling historic property and poured millions into it. Standing in the middle of the main lobby, I stared into the 51-foot tall teepee. Attached to it was a big library.
We watched weddings on the front lawn from the panoramic windows of the Round Island Bar & Grill. I took in the breathtaking views of Lake Huron with Bois Blanc Island.
Back in Mackinaw City, mainland
As the ferry smoothly navigated the waters of Lake Huron, I watched the Big Mac Bridge swing in the wind. The night before, we watched a documentary on the history channel about the building of the Mackinac Bridge, dubbed as a swinging water masterpiece.
The pretty “candy city” with fudge and candy shops was busy on a Sunday morning. My last goal was to buy fresh fish caught locally. Other than fudge and candy, there were a few shops with smoked fish.
A clerk at a smoked fish shop recommended Big Stone Bay Fishery. located on US 23. I’ve never heard of it even though we’ve been coming up to the Straits area for the last 25 years.
As we entered the fishery, I could smell smoked fish. But, the fishery dealt mainly in fresh fish: whitefish, walleye, coho salmon and trout. It was a fish lover’s paradise.
The paradise Up North always brings new discoveries and inspires a creative mind. The Mackinac Island attracted Hollywood twice. In 1947 Hollywood filmed “This Time For Keeps” and in 1979 “Somewhere in Time.”
The “Somewhere in Time” weekend is always on the last weekend in October, and it officially closes down the island for the season. A few properties, shops and restaurants stay open for the winter.
“True happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Lowell, MI- I love this quote because it is so true. Yesterday, I completed a brand new mobile app on Swiftic for a client. It took me a long time as the app development companies kept changing.
Once I figured out the last feature, I was ecstatic. It’s a top notch app with eye-catching push notifications and more than 20 features such as loyalty and scratch cards, and catalogs.
I had that same feeling of joy when I uploaded my book “Shifting Sands Short Stories ” to the publisher last year.
I feel happiness today as Ludek and I are about to head out to Mackinac Island to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary.
Yes, it’s the same place where Universal Pictures filmed “Somewhere in Time” with Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour.
It was also the home for the famous fur trade entrepreneur Madame Framboise.
The island will be all dressed up for Halloween. We plan on going to the Haunted Theatre and take a horse-drawn carriage ride. Cars are not allowed on the island, only bicycles and horses.
Even this late into the season, the hotels were sold out. We will take the ferry Star Line across the Straits of Mackinac.
It is also my writer’s retreat, because Mackinac Island inspires me with its history and character. I will include in my new book three historical fiction short stories; one from the island and two from Fallasburg.
Stay tuned for more posts from the island.
Copyright (c) 2018. Emma Blogs, LLC. All rights reserved.
Ft. Lauderdale, FL- Sipping coffee at a Turkish café on the corner of Sunrise and N. Ocean boulevards in Ft. Lauderdale with my daughter Emma, I found life easy.
This writer’s break from the northern vortex in West Michigan was different from the previous ones.
First of all, I changed bodies of water;that is the Gulf of Mexico for the Atlantic Ocean. Then I changed company. We all went with our adult children and the grand kids.
We stayed at an Art Deco villa five minutes from the beach. It gave us the opportunity to explore the Atlantic Ocean up close and personal.
And for the writer in me it was also good to compare the two shores; that is the Atlantic and the Gulf coast.
The weather was marvelously warm in the 80s with equally warm waves of the Atlantic splashing the beaches. Surfers were abundant unlike on the Gulf, where the waves are not big enough for surfing.
On the downside of the Atlantic, there were less shells and no shark teeth hunters. However, the lifeguards were on full duty and warned of rip currents. Our fellow traveler Maranda almost got caught in one. The lifeguard warned us with his whistle.“Always swim with the current to get out of it, never against it.”
The sounds of the waves rocked the youngest ones to the best nap in the world: on the beach.
Just listening to the ocean and watching the white combs as the waves crested was the best meditation in the world. Enhancing the motion and the sounds of the ocean were the freighters anchoring off shore. These lit up at night.
South Beach, Art Deco & Miami Yacht Show
A pretty nerve-wrecking drive south on Collins Ave and onto Ocean Blvd. took us to South Beach and the Art Deco district.
On the cusp of the 30th annual Miami Yacht Show running from Feb. 15 through Feb. 19, we drove past hundreds of yachts-in-water for sale on the Indian Creek Waterway. Yacht brokers were just building entrances to the yacht in-water displays on 1.2 million square feet.
Art Deco district
As a civil engineer by trade and a history buff, I was fascinated by the chic historic Art Deco district. Sitting in the South Beach neighborhood within a short walking distance from the beach, the colorful historic buildings span three basic architectural styles: 1920s Art Deco, Mediterranean Revival and MiMo or Miami Modernist architecture.
In search of Cuban fare & Daiquiri cocktails, we ate at Mango’s Tropical Café.
The beach scene beyond the Lummus Park featured colorful Art Deco lifeguard stands and the hottest fashion trends such as the thong swimwear.
Las Olas, Venice of America, Ft. Lauderdale
We took a pirate boat ride on the Intracoastal Waterway lined by million dollar homes and mega yachts of the rich and the famous. Captain Kris took us past Steven Spielberg’s mega yacht equipped with three-quarter of a full length movie screen.
Knowledgeable about the lives of the famous, Chris told us the story of the founder of Phillips 66 petroleum company after whom the famous Grille 66 & Bar on the waterway has been named.
Then came the story of entrepreneur Wayne Huizenga known for Blockbuster Video, Waste Management & AutoNation.
We visited this small town of 6,000 north of Ft. Lauderdale twice for its walkable shopping district, the pier and snorkeling opportunities. It is full of small beach motels, unlike its high-rise neighbors.
I marveled at the sign for the local Farmer’s Market open from December through May.
In Michigan, we get first produce in June.
I will treasure timeless moments spent in the coarse sand, on the waves of the Atlantic, on the veranda of Ocean 2000 of the Pelican Resort and Valentine’s dinner on the deck of the Sandbar Grille.
However, we bargained with her for the best price for our Budweiser and Corona swimwear.
“You girls will never have to buy a drink for yourself on the beach,” she noted with a deep hollow laugh. Emma noticed her turquoise colored earrings in the shape of balls from the smallest to the big one.
Or maybe the real rube was the obnoxious bad pirate Barnacle Bill who stole our key to the treasure aboard the Bluefoot Pirate Adventures.
At the Aruba bar, women sported heart-shaped Valentine shades, and Publix was overflowing with heart-shaped balloons and cakes.
During this brief break from the freezing cold, we marked Mardi Gras, Valentine’s and Ash Wednesday, as well as the Greek Festival weekend in southern warmth and hospitality.
Alligator Alley, Everglades
However, I would be remiss, if I didn’t mention our 123 mile long drive from Ft. Lauderdale to Ft. Myers through the Everglades area of South Florida.
The freeway I-75 from the east coast of Florida to the west coast is appropriately called Alligator Alley, as it cuts through the Everglades for 80 miles.
I noticed hundreds of white egrets congregating on the palm trees by the river fenced off from the freeway to protect the endangered Florida panther.
According to popular lore and crime movies, dead bodies are being disposed off here at the Alligator Alley. You will find no traces of anything. What the alligators didn’t get, the birds and the panthers will. It’s called balance in nature.
Well, our time on the Atlantic Ocean came and went like the afternoon tide. But, it washed ashore thousands of precious memories.
And I close this “Notes from Ocean 2018” account with the words of the Frontier airline captain.
“Join us. We’re flying like crazy from the tip of North America to the tip of South America.”
“What I should like to do, Van Gogh writes to brother Theo in Paris in 1889, is to go there as an inmate patient at the end of the month or early in May…let’s try three months to start with, and we’ll see how it goes..it is very likely that I am yet to suffer much.
Vincent van Gogh self-portrait created in Saint-Remy de Provence.
Van Gogh painted the Starry Night in Saint Remy.
The landscape of St.Remy is very attractive and I shall gradually become acquainted with it.”
Vincent Van Gogh
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Saint- Remy de Provence, FR- Leaving our beloved bastide near Cheval-Blanc behind, we headed further south for Saint- Remy, a city that proudly carries Van Gogh’s heritage with its Saint-Paul asylum.
We drove through alleys of stately plane trees lined by olive and almond groves, cypresses and cornfields at the foothills of Alpilles that have all inspired the master of post- impressionism.
Saint- Remy, whipped by mistral from the Mediterranean Sea, bustled with tourists.
A large painting of Van Gogh’s self-portrait without the straw hat greets the visitors at the 18th century Hotel Estrine. Van Gogh’s museum is located inside. He created more than 150 paintings during his stay in Saint Remy.
My French granddaughter Ella, 6, immediately recognized the famous painting.
“Our teacher showed us that,” she said all excited.
The French nation has immortalized its artists and scientists with busts, sculptures, in schools, museums and gardens scattered all over the country.
However, the lively town of Saint-Remy did not partake in any of Van Gogh’s pathos, who also painted the gardens of the asylum. Hundreds of boutiques, souvenir shops, bistros and cafes vibrated with l’art de vivre, known as the art of living prevalent in France.
Throughout our stay in Provence, our ladies “international squad” sampled this l’art de vivre on every corner of the tiniest streets, in regional dishes, in gourmet cafes, and in the Provencal architecture of churches, bastides and mairies.
All French city halls carry the motto of the French revolution: liberty, equality, fraternity.
To this day, it remains a mystery to me, why the People’s House aka Lidovy Dum in downtown Vizovice, Czech Republic, has the French national motto engraved in its coat-of-arms.
After exploring local shops with Provencal herbs, yellow and blue linens, lavender soaps, perfumes and candles along with the l’Occitane line of body products, we found a reasonable restaurant on Boulevard Mirabeau.
Fashionable Bistrot des Alpilles sits on the Mirabeau loop around the medieval city with the massive Roman catholic church Collegiale Saint Martin as its anchor.
“You should try their local soup,” said daughter Emma.
Wherever my writing takes me, I always make it a point to sample the local fare and drinks. In Provence, the regional dishes feature different variations of fish soups depending on where you are. It is the royal bouillabaisse in Marseille and fish pistou in the rest of the region, ratatouille or vegetable stew accompanied by a glass of pink wine from the local caves. Desserts in France always include an assortment of cheeses or you may opt for gourmet café.
So, the entree cassoulet de poisson was a natural choice for me with a glass of the house wine, the “Lovely IGP Alpilles”, 2015.
Daughter Emma chose the lighter sweet aperitif Kir. The kids of course had the syrup –dissolved- in- water fruit concoction that I despise from my childhood years in Czechoslovakia.
As I write this, I realize that I haven’t tried the “Eau de Vie poire”, the water of life pear liquor or the pastis.
“It’s nasty,” Emma said about the pastis liquor made from licorice.
At the adjacent newsstand, I bought “Van Gogh in Provence” English Edition booklet with photos of major paintings created during the master’s stay in Arles and Saint-Remy.
As we embarked on the long road up north back to Fixin, we got stuck in the traffic jam, called “bouchon” in France due to the returning vacationers from the Mediterranean resorts.
“They all go for their vacation at the same time to the Med,” Emma said. “They use the only highway that goes from north to south, the A7.”
But being stuck in a “bouchon” in France is not necessarily a bad thing, because it’s another opportunity for more sight- seeing and treats for the palate. We stepped out at the Aire- de- Montelimar rest stop and I bought the real French white nougat with hazelnuts, the local specialty from Montelimar. At first Ella refused to taste the nougat.
“I don’t eat that.”
“Ella, you’re like an old person,” I laughed. “Don’t be afraid to try something new.”
“It’s delicious,” she said.
In the Lyon “bouchon” I admired the renaissance buildings on the banks of the river Rhone, reminiscent of the Prague riverside on Vltava. Emma pointed out the Museum of Confluence built on a peninsula in the river, where the Saone meets the Rhone.
“I love being stuck in traffic,” said sarcastically our driver Selene. “Give me some coke, please.”
Hundreds of cars stood still on the major Paris bound thoroughfare going through downtown Lyon, pop. 2.2 million. Only the colorful trams crossing the bridges and the boats navigating the Rhone were moving.
To the right, I noticed a girl waterboarding on the massive turquoise-colored river that originates from the Rhone glacier in the Swiss Alps.
The boat pulling the girl was full of young people having the time of their lives, while the nervous drivers drummed their fingers on the steering wheels. We were melting in the late afternoon heat in front of the tunnel.
Thanks to the obsolete infrastructure in Lyon dating back to the advancement of the automobile, I finished reading the Van Gogh booklet intended for the transatlantic flight home to Chicago. Two hours later, the youngsters were still waterboarding on the Rhone.
“Thank you Lyon, Mr. Van Gogh and Doc Emma for great entertainment, as always.”
Notable mention for Van Gogh lovers:
Van Gogh in Europe
The Estrine Museum in Saint-Remy de Provence is part of Van Gogh Europe, a vast European project associating places and museums concerned with the life and work of the painter.
The objectives of the Partners of Van Gogh Europe are to value the life and works of art by Vincent van Gogh by developing cultural, educational and touristic projects of the highest quality.
I am back home in the USA from a writer’s retreat in France. Follow me on EW Emma’s Writings on http://emmapalova.com for stories from Provence, Burgundy and Paris. Pictured is Paris from a rooftop bar in the historic Le Marais quarter. To the right is the flashing Eiffel Tower. Every full hour the Eiffel sparkles in lights along with the blue beam that illuminates parts of Paris near the river Seine.
The fabulous panoramic “Les Nympheas” paintings inside the L’Orangerie Gallery were a gift from Claude Monet to the people of Paris.
Stay tuned for stories from Provence, Burgundy, Jura region and Paris on EW Emma’s Writings on http://emmapalova.com.
Villages of the Luberon Mountains Continued from Provence most beautiful villages at By Emma Palova EW Emma’s Writings Provence, FR- After a morning writing session on Sunday in the large Provença…