Election 2016 is the biggest political upset in generations
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Grand Rapids, MI- I am no stranger to dissent. I participated in the demonstrations leading up to the Velvet Revolution in former Czechoslovakia in November of 1989.
The historic protest was against the dictatorship of the Communist Party, its leaders in the Czechoslovak government and their hardline policies instituted after Prague Spring in 1968.
This is my story.
The demonstrations culminated on Nov. 17, 1989 when students and actors took to the streets of Prague, followed by 10 days of chaos. Those 10 days in the history of Czechoslovakia led both countries, Czech and Slovak republics to freedom.
Flabbergasted, I watched the demonstrations in downtown Grand Rapids last night. Just four days ago on election eve, hundreds lined up on the bridge crossing the Grand River for Mr. Donald Trump’s last rally of the 2016 presidential campaign.
“This is our Independence Day,” he said to the crowd on Monday, Nov. 7th at 11 p.m.
Rural America helps President-Elect Donald Trump to victory.
On Thursday night, hundreds of unhappy people took to the streets waving signs that read: “Trump is not my president.”
“Why are they protesting?” asked the TV anchor.
“We want to show other people that they are not alone,” said a protester in the streets.
“Alone in what?” asked the reporter.
“That Trump is not our president,” the guy said. “My vote didn’t count.”
The guy was referring to the fact that Presiden-Elect Trump won the electoral vote, but not the popular vote.
In other cities in the USA and Canada, the demonstrations mostly in front of Mr. Trump’s properties, turned into riots accompanied by violence.
President-Elect Donald Trump.
Facebook has always been a good gauge of public sentiment. On election day, 700 million posts were election related.
“I didn’t go and protest when my candidate wasn’t elected,” posted G. E. “And I didn’t even vote for Trump or Hillary.”
In 2000 when Democratic presidential candidate Al Gore got the popular vote, but not the electoral vote and George W. Bush won the election, I didn’t go and protest.
Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton during a rally.
I accepted the results of the democratic election process including the electoral college that propelled Mr. Bush into the White House. I don’t remember other disappointed people protesting either.
Actually W. was the only sitting American president whom I saw in Chicago at the Saint Pat’s parade after the 911 horror. I was happy to see the president of the USA. I didn’t care that he was a GOP president, that it was brisk and cold, and you had to go through security or that W. walked only a few hundred feet.
I never lost that respect to the office of the President of the USA., no matter who holds it.
In an interview with the founders of Americas Community Voices Network (ACVN) Donald & Ronald Brookins of Tampa, FL I asked the question:
“How will you accept the results either way whether your candidate wins or loses?”
“I will respond in the same way,” Donald said, “God bless our new President and God bless the United States of America.”
““The winner will be my President and the leader of the free world,” Ronald said.
The polls had major influence on the decision making of most voters.
“What kind of an impact did the polls make on your decision?”
“The polls created a sense of urgency that it was critical to vote and to encourage others to vote,” Ronald said.
“The polls allowed me to decide who was winning the election, “Donald said. “They are a good indicator of possible results.”
In the end, it was the huge turnout in the rustic belt of America and rural voters, who felt the current administration was ignoring them.
Previous GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney did not get the same numbers that Mr. Trump did in the rustic belt states known as the firewall.
“He’s the people’s man,” said a woman in a small community in Pennsylvania.
I had the same feeling, as we drove back home from the Gerald Ford International Airport in Grand Rapids through the rural communities on Tuesday evening. Voters were streaming into the Lowell Township Hall, into churches and the city halls., all bundled up and sporting patriotic colors and jackets.
This was the people’s election. It was the voice of change from the obsolete Washington self-serving bureaucracy, its institutions and non-functioning apparatus.
The people have spoken. They boldly stood up to the lies of the establishment.
White educated female Democrat votes red for the first time
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Grand Rapids, MI- Reeling off from the historic “unprecedented & unpredictable” Election 2016 with President-Elect Donald Trump soon to take residency at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, I admit that I am glad it’s over.
Wearing a red sweater for the occasion, I cast my ballot on Tuesday, Nov. 8 at 11 a.m. at precinct no.1 at the Vergennes Township Hall on Bailey Road. I couldn’t find a parking space. After voting I took a selfie with a selfie stick in front of the township hall. It was windy and cloudy. I was shivering, and not just from the wind.
I didn’t expect Trump to win anyways much like the media, the polls and the political pundits.
“You’re an idiot,” my mother Ella yelled at me on Wednesday, “just like the rest of the people who voted for him. The whole world thinks that. The stocks have gone down.”
Okay, thank you mom.
Coming from generations of Liberals, I was supposed to vote for Secretary Hillary Clinton.
After all I am a white educated female Democrat who started her blogging/design business Emma Blogs, LLC on the WordPress platform in 2013.
But, my business and entrepreneurial spirit have nothing to do with my vote for the 45th president of the USA.
I consider myself a people’s woman and I have always voted Democratic until now. I would have voted for Bernie Sanders, if he had stayed in the race.
But, not for Hillary.
As a victim of politics of the Prague Spring 1968 in former Czechoslovakia when the Soviet tanks invaded the country, I do not put up easily with lies, tactics and establishment.
And I write about my encounters with politics throughout my life in the memoir “Greenwich Meridian.” (c)
Thus, I am more keen and sensitive when someone is lying to me and to other billions of people around the world. Hillary’s private server, erased e-mails, Wall Street speeches and funding of her presidential campaign from the Clinton Foundation, didn’t resonate well with me.
It takes a lot more than a polished lying lawyer sporting a blue or white suit and a great blonde haircut, to convince me.
Lies were the biggest issue that the voters had with Hillary and they expressed it in the following keywords:
Liar/Not trustworthy.
“I made a mistake,” she said on the theme of the proverbial private server and the erased e-mails.
I should have been more graceful and forgiving, we all make mistakes.
But, I wasn’t. Considering Hillary’s political history and my political history, there was not enough grace left in me.
On the other hand, I should have been offended by Trump’s misogyny and his rough language at the debates and rallies around the country, his bullying and overall disregard for some human values.
His language did offend me, but there was a grain of forgiveness in me.
I separated the former bully from the agent of change. That apparently struck accord with the majority of voters; that is Trump’s promise of change.
I watched him defy the establishment of both parties, while mocking the media all along. Hillary would have only been an extension of President Obama’s policies. And I voted for Obama twice.
President-Elect Trump didn’t bypass the importance of the rural and blue-collar votes in the Midwest. I love rural America. It’s been my home for 20 years. Michigan became one of the battleground states in the pivotal hours of the election.
On election eve, Trump made his last stop at DeVos Hall in Grand Rapids at 11 p.m. with 10,000 people present.
“This is our Independence Day,” he said to the crowd.
On Wednesday Nov. 9 at 2:45 a.m., I watched his victory speech starting out with tears in his eyes.
“This was tough,” he said about the campaign. “It’s complicated business.”
Spreading his arms wide to the audience and looking directly into the camera, Trump said.
“I love you.”
Let independence from old establishments, institutions and biased media ring around the world.
Good luck and God Bless Mr. President-Elect. Protect the freedoms and independence in this great country.
Election 2016 attracts voters in droves, creates tension
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Grand Rapids, MI – Voting in small towns of America, and everywhere else, matters.
I voted today at 11 a.m. in precinct 1 at the Vergennes Township Hall in Kent County. There were no parking spaces left, and there was a steady stream of voters.
I was voter no. 471 in what the media dub as an “unprecedented & unpredictable” election.
Both candidates Mr. Donald Trump and Mrs. Hillary Clinton stumped heavily in Michigan, which is traditionally a blue state.
Clinton spoke at a rally of 4,000 people at the Grand Valley State University (GVSU) on Nov.7th.
Trump held his final rally on election eve at DeVos Place in Grand Rapids, Michigan. There was a massive crowd for the event estimated at 10,000. People lined up on the bridge over the Grand River to get into the hall carrying their coolers packed with food.
Political pundits are calling Election 2016, a consequential election.
“This election is between division and strong leadership, the opposition is a loose cannon,” said spokesperson for Clinton’s campaign “Stronger Together.”
Trump called himself an agent of change at the Grand Rapids rally last night.
“Today is our Independence Day,” he said. “My only special interest is to you.”
What some call an insurgent candidacy, Trump made 14 campaign stops in 72 hours.
“Will this be an end to the insurgence by Trump and will Hillary be able to shatter that glass ceiling,” political analysts asked these questions.
I’ve been voting since I became an American citizen through the naturalization process at the Grand Rapids Ford Museum in 1999, along with my daughter Emma Palova Chavent, MD.
But, I’ve never been nervous about it until the eve of the election and today. Actually the anxiety sank in last week, after reading through hundreds of election-related Facebook posts.
I even received texts from my Czech friends asking about the integrity of the election.
“The Czech media favor Hillary,” wrote Ales Kobylik. “They keep this inflated bubble that there is no way that Donald Trump could win. In all respect what do you think?”
And my Czech- Canadian friend D.P. even bought a small TV, so she could follow the candidates’ campaigns and the election in the USA. That’s a big honor of our election system because D.P. does not watch TV.
“I bought that TV because of you,” she laughed.
“Really, you are that interested in our election?” I said uneasily.
“Sure, because Trump might close the borders,” D.P. said.
And now we have it all laid out in front of us after months of campaigning, rhetoric and derogatory language from both sides, the GOP and the Dems.
At one point, as the campaigning progressed throughout the summer and fall, I arrived to a fleeing conclusion that I wasn’t going to vote.
From a moral and character stand point of view, I don’t believe in either one of the candidates, Mrs. Hillary Clinton or Mr. Donald Trump.
They both have proven that they are unfit to lead this country. Mrs. Clinton’s past as the First Lady and as the Secretary, as well as having the private server and the 33,000 erased emails speak for themselves.
As for Mr. Trump, if his present roughness is any indicator of his potential future leadership skills, then the country would get the “perfect” dictator.
“Stalin or Ceausescu?” you ask.
“Take your pick, they were all the same,” I answer. “And they never quit.”
Mr. Trump would first get away with our democracy, waving his hand:
“What a nuisance,” he would say.
Much like the Mexican illegal immigrants, or any other ones for that matter.
Bouncing back to Mrs. Hillary through the eyes of my friend Sheryl G. from Iowa who posted this:
“As you go to the polls this Tuesday, do your due diligence and your homework,” she wrote.” Hillary Clinton is the first and only First Lady to come under criminal investigation while serving as First Lady. Washington and Jefferson must be rolling over in their graves.”
However, to answer Ales’ question about Mr. Trump having a chance.
In spite of the polls and other opinions, both candidates may stand very well the same chance.
But, the real horror is regardless who becomes the 45th president:
“Is this the beginning of an end of an empire?”
“Look back over the past with its changing empires that rose and fell, and you can foresee the future too.”
-Marcus Aurelius
Copyright (c) 2016. Emma Blogs, LLC. All rights reserved.
WordCamp comes to Northeast, brings technology evolution
Lowell, MI- Since one of my goals for 2016 was to stay up to date with technology, I would like to go to the WordCamp in Philly from Dec. 2 to Dec. 4.
First of all, the camp is close to home and I’ve never been to Philly or to a WordPress Camp. That in itself is very exciting for me.
I have recently completed a large Podcast Website project for Americas Community Voices Network (ACVN) based in Tampa, FL with founders Ronald & Donald Brookins. It was a very interesting project on the cutting edge of British developers changing under continuous development.
I finished one phase of the project during a recent stay at my daughter Emma’s house in Fixin, FR. The Internet in my studio wasn’t working half of the time, so I had to use my son-in-law Adrien’s studio overlooking the wine village.
Church in Fixin, Burgundy.
Inside the bastid. A large living and dining room with French doors into the garden.
The view from the window of the vineyards or the “climats” of Burgundy was awesome and inspiring.
Even though, I arrived back at home in Grand Rapids on Sept. 6 with a smashed computer screen, I still feel inspired by the stay in France. Travel has always fueled my writing, design and photography. It doesn’t matter if I go three miles east from my home to take photos in Fallasburg, Lowell or 4,000 miles to Paris, or even to visit my brother Vas Up North in Paris, MI.
Paris from a rooftop restaurant with the view of the Eiffel Tower.
I keep my eyes open for new angles, new stories as everything changes in the flow of time. Whenever I look at the grandfather clock that says “Tempus Fugit,” I get scared. I am afraid of time. The clock was one of the first things I bought here in the USA in 1990.
Now, we don’t even need watches anymore because we have cell phones. Long before cell phones, I never had a watch. I didn’t want one. Not wearing a watch has sharpened my sense of time and dimensions.
I was comfortable using the clocks on church and cathedral towers. While hiking in Burgundy, I used the church steeples to orient myself in the “climats.”
This morning, I discovered the news about WordCamp on Facebook and I got a kick out of the fact that the after party “A Night at the Museum” will be at the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia.
My husband Ludek and I organized “A Night at the Museum” Thanksgiving party at the Lowell Area Historical Museum in 2012. Ludek wanted to alleviate the stress on women during the holiday season.
What a great coincidence.
Last year in November, I participated in the 30 Day Content Challenge by Learn to Blog. On Day #3 I posted the following article:
“Thoughts on fear in the wake of Paris attacks.” And that was the end of my blog on Gateway Media. Some corporate brass didn’t like my thoughts.
While respecting both, my passion and fear of time, I love history. I always have. All the history, I don’t pick and choose. So, Philadelphia is the perfect location for an all time history lover and a technology user.
Lowell, MI- It took me years to realize that dad was right.
My dad, former professor of physics and mathematics, who later turned to programming, has always said that the right and the left at the top are the same.
Both parties, Democrats and the Republicans, are defending the same philosophy intended to serve themselves.
They just use different colors, symbols, suits, articulation and gesticulation into fooling us that it is all being done for our own good.
Thank you dad for that piece of wisdom.
Copyright (c) 2016 Emma Blogs, LLC. All rights reserved.
“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 streets
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.
Estrine Museum in Saint Remy is dedicated to Van Gogh.
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.
Saint Remy in Provence
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.
Cassoulet de poissons St. Remy style
So, the entree cassoulet de poisson was a natural choice for me with a glass of the house wine, the “Lovely IGP Alpilles”, 2015.
Bistrot Les Alpilles menu in Saint Remy
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.”
Saint Paul de Mausole in Saint Remy
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.
St
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…
Continued from Provence most beautiful villages at https://emmapalova.com/2016/09/02/provence-most-beautiful-villages-2/
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Provence, FR- After a morning writing session on Sunday in the large Provençal social room with a view into the garden, we relaxed by the pool surrounded by the Aleppo pine forest with rosemary shrubs at the base.
The “girls” Emma & Selene had just completed a 10 kilometer hike to the Gorges de Regalon. The network of gorges and canyons plunges 30 meters deep and a magnificent forest of oaks, maples, Aleppo pines, cherry and fig trees shelters it.
“We met a guy who had flip-flops on and asked us how far of a walk it is,” laughed Emma. “Then he asked if his t-shirt was alright for the hike.”
Gorges Regales near Cheval-Blanc in Provence.
In the afternoon, we explored another village of the Luberon, the artsy Lourmarin with population of 1,300. Lourmarin lies in the triangle formed by Avignon, Marseille and Aix-en-Provence.
One of arched entries into the center of Lourmarin.
The new château in renaissance style was restored by industrialist & philanthropist Robert Laurent Vibert in 1920. He was killed in an accident in 1925 leaving behind a foundation for young artists. The château overlooks the delightful Lourmarin with three belfries reflecting on the diversity of religion.
The right wing of the castle is fully furnished according to the renaissance period. We walked up the wide stone stairs leading into the main chambers of the castle. I especially loved the music room with music instruments from four continents, the library and the ladies room.
The castle serves as a major venue for the annual summer music festival from July 11 through Oct. 8th.
The kids delighted in the castle garden with sculptures and a pond with koi fish. A short walk down the hill led us into the bustling village with tourists, a festival and a market.
A Lourmarin water fountain.
Fashionable shops and galleries lined the streets in the center of Lourmarin along with wine caves, endless restaurants and cafes.
Sitting at a sidewalk café on Place de l’Ormeau, I did as the Lourmarions do every day; I watched the pedestrians and an occasional car navigate the cobblestone narrow streets Mediterranean style.
A chic proprietor of a bed& breakfast sporting high heels was awaiting her guests at the cobblestone l’Oarmeau square adorned by sculptures with a water fountain. The water fountain with fish kept our youngest team member Sam, 2, calm. Ivy completely overgrows many of the bastides at the Place de l’Ormeau.
In one of the galleries, I found an amazing 3-D bluish yellow collage picture of the Last Supper. Emma loved the slick modern lamps, as well as the retro art in a gallery across the street. I didn’t want to leave Lourmarin.
The music room inside the Lourmarin castle.
But, we had one more village on our schedule: beautiful Ansouis, pop. 1,057, with French terrace gardens and the dominating castle at the top.
A jazz band used an opening in the castle walls as a stage with the setting sun behind for their light effects. Behind the spectator crowd, a couple danced Charleston on a sloping street.
French terrace gardens in Ansouis.
And there was a syrup stand; not a wine stand but a booth selling the old elixir, which Emma and I know so well from the Czech Republic. Long before coke, sprite and other pop arrived massively in Eastern Europe, there was an equivalent: the good old home-made syrup from local fruits.
“Syrup is big now in France,” Emma said.
No, kidding. I encountered the syrup-diluted-in-water concoction at our other tour locations such as St. Remi-de-Provence and Poligny in the Jura region of France.
A square in St. Remy-de-Provence. Vincent Van Gogh made St. Remy his home for one year. He created his greatest works here.
To be continued. Stay tuned for more stories from Provence in “Farewell to Provence” and from the Jura region, home to yellow wine, Comte cheese and Louis Pasteur.
My summer writer’s retreat in France takes me from Burgundy 450 kilometers south into the heart of Provence. Continued from “In Provence” https://emmapalova.com/2016/08/31/in-provence-aug-26-aug-29-2/
By Emma Palova
Provence, FR- Our trip to Provence took us 450 kilometers south of the home base in the wine village of Fixin in Burgundy. After lodging at the Provençal bastide no. 23 on Chemin de la Font du Pin located between Cheval-Blanc and Merindol, we were ready to explore the most beautiful villages of France.
They are: Ansouis, Gordes, Lourmarin, Menerbes, Roussillon, Seguret and Venesque.
Chateau de Marquis de Sade in Lacoste, Provence.
Hugging the slopes of the Luberon mountain range or its foothills, these charmers share common elements of more than a century of history & arts, cafes, connecting trails, fortifications and majestic châteaux.
At the bastide, our international “ladies squad” loaded up into one car to make the trip up treacherous narrow roads framed by the Luberon easier.
“I hear that you need a Mexican to drive you,” joked versatile Selene who changed her hat from a chef to a skilled driver.
Driving on the narrow roads through the villages of the Luberon is a true art that I have never mastered.
“Do you know who Marques de Sade was?” Emma asked me.
“They didn’t teach us that in Czech,” I laughed.
“The word sadism is derived from his name,” Emma said. “You haven’t seen the Federico Fellini movie “120 Years of Sodomy?”
Now, that grabbed my attention. I love Federico Fellini and until now, I only knew about sadistic dentists and their scary assistants in not so sterile, white offices.
The view from château in Lacoste.
Well, I was just about to find out the story of this exiled aristocrat from Paris.
“An exile in Provence, must be nice,” I thought.
“Yes, he had all these servants and poets on the chateau with him, what an exile,” said sarcastically Claude.
“He spent 30 years being locked up,” Emma said.
Our roadside attractions were olive groves, vineyards, old farm and wine growers homesteads and vegetable plots. Further on in the villages of Les Beaumettes, Goult, Bonnieux, I admired the boulangeries, patisseries and endless restaurants such as the Fuming Cow Café.
The medieval village of Lacoste, pop 450, was built into a steep hill in several levels, a typical fortified structure from the 11th century.
At the peak sits the ruin of the castle of the notorious Marquis de Sade. I took in the surreal view breathlessly.
The beauty of Provence with its fields and “Climats” or vineyards, broken by an occasional road or a village, laid at our feet. The 11th century castle is now home to stylist designer M. Pierre Cardin.
It is not unusual in France, that the castles are privately owned.
From the top we headed through the ruins down the “calade” cobblestone path to the base of the village. The path was busy with tourists. We passed abandoned boulangeries, open terraces with belfries, and old stone houses, some of which are being restored.
The walk through the chateau ruins in Lacoste.
You closed your eyes and you could imagine the life in this village in the time of Marquis de Sade, live with horses, coaches and escorts that he abused.
The sunset cast soft light on the ruins and sculptures by Greco and other artists. The amazing black“Arms” sculpture embraced the visitors on foot, bikes or on horseback from all over the world.
The café de Sade offered colorful smoothies, regional wines and Provençal cuisine.
Among the activities held in most of these Provençal villages are markets, concerts and festivals.
We prepared our own Provençal dinner at the bastide that featured apero from the olive vendor in Merindol with cheese and olivenade, olives, local bread, beef and turkey brochettes and wine rose from a cave in St. Tropez.
Belfry at chateau de Marquis de Sade in Lacoste.
The dry heat persisted into the evening lit by colorful lanterns and other “lumiere” creations. The conversation carried both in French and English languages. The topic: the beauty of Provence still waiting to be explored tomorrow.
For more information on villages of the Luberon go to: www.provenceweb.fr
To be continued…………… Lourmarin, Ansouis and St. Remy-de-Provence
International “ladies squad” explores L’art de Vivre in Provence
Note: My summer writer’s retreat 2016 in France takes me from Burgundy south to the heart of Provence for magical four days. Our international “ladies squad” explored three of the seven most beautiful villages in France: Lacoste, Lourmarin, Ansouis and the town of St.Remy-de-Provence. For one year, Van Gogh made his home in St. Remy inspired by the Alpilles.
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Provence, FR- Provençal bastide no.23 sits on Chemin de la Font du Pin between the villages of Cheval-Blanc and Merindol. The mansion with seven bedrooms nestles at the foot of a beach pine forest.
Provencal bastide near Cheval-Blanc.
Typical architecture for this southernmost region of France embraces traditional elements of stone washed walls with tall French doors, large gathering places on the main level and sleeping quarters on the second level. Arches instead of doors open the space between different rooms.
The yard with the garden caters to relaxation and function with a cafe-style gazebo lit by sun energy lamps, a large dining table and an iron wrought bed. White Mandeville plants and Hydrangea decorated the gazebo.
The large pool with a colorful cabin is near the house on a cleared terrain in the white pine beach forest with rosemary shrubs.
Our international “ladies squad” found their bedrooms each equipped with a bathroom and a view into the morning sun bathed beach forest. Tiles are a must in the hot dry climate of Provence.
I shared room no.7 dipped in hues of purple and decorated with butterflies with granddaughter Ella. After a recent conflict, I find solace in the peaceful Provençal atmosphere of farm markets, wine caves, cafes, cobblestone streets, olive groves and deserted châteaux lit by magnificent sunsets.
Inside the bastid. A large living and dining room with French doors into the garden.
The first night we picked ripe grapes in the front yard. Vendange or wine harvest has already started in this part of France. There was also a lime tree and plentiful rosemary shrubs that grew both at the base of the beach forest and in it. To my surprise, on my “balades” through the forest, I also found shrubs of holly.
One morning In the middle of my walk, I stopped dead when I heard a rattling sound.
“A rattlesnake,” I thought and hurried back to the bastide.
Two days later by the pool, Claude pointed out the rattling sound.
“C’est une tone de Cigale de olive,” she said. “That’s the sound of the cigales.”
I laughed at my paranoia originating in my early childhood years while living in Texas.
Mornings, before the heat of the day breaks, are fresh. You wake up to the roosters’ crowing and to the sound of the Cigale in the olive groves and in the rosemary bushes.
Beach white pines near the Provençal bastide.
Instead of a Provençal breakfast of hard-boiled eggs with figs, we ate Lyon festive brioche with pralines, compliments of Mrs. Claude Chavent, Emma’s mother-in-law.
Each lady from the squad contributed her own tastes and flavors to the full gourmet experience. The traveling squad consisted of Captain Dr. Emma Palova of Fixin, Chef Selene Alvarez of Veracruz, Mexico, former anesthesiologist Mrs. Claude Chavent of Lyon, FR and journalist, writer Emma Palova of USA. Both Emmas were born in former Czechoslovakia.
On a late Saturday morning, daughter Emma and I headed out to the Merindol market.
Instead of a marche extravaganza, we only found an olive and cheese merchant along with a straw hat and a bag vendor.
“It’s the summer break,” said the olive vendor.
Olive merchant in Merindol, Provence.
“It’s all about the love for life here in France, not about money,” Emma educated me. “It’s called l’art de vivre.”
For our apero that night, Emma bought an olive spread “olivenade”, a dried tomato spread, cheese, spicy olives with pimento and olives in brine with Provençal herbs at the market in Merindol.
Wine tasting stands at the markets in Provence.
Walking a narrow street up the hill, we stopped at a local hangout spot for coffee and tea on the sidewalk. I love watching people in these quaint villages not occupied by tourists. The locals were already drinking wine and beer.
A woman wearing an apron dress with a large grocery bag hurried past the abandoned tobacco shop. A chic woman overdressed in a black T-shirt with long sleeves pedaled uphill, while a youngster on a bike with fresh bread in his backpack closely followed her.
I wasn’t alone watching the action. A Provençal old-time villager was sitting in his chair right in front of his house on the street. Of course the woman haltered her hurry to exchange gossip with the old-timer. There’s always time for gossip in these villages.
Cafe in Merindol, Provence.
We also came across a reformed church, an anomaly in the mainly catholic France.
We stopped at a farm market on our way back to the bastide to get fresh strawberries and mangoes for the planned Daiquiri drinks by the pool.
We tasted wine from a local wine caterer stationed right by the market stand.
Even though pink wine known as rose is the wine of choice in the Provence region, I bought a bottle of white wine for the apero. Nothing like Burgundy whites, but it tasted better than the rose.
To be continued…………………The most beautiful villages of France
authoremmapalova 