Bormes les Mimosas
So, here I am on the train. Got nothing better to do than LJ and it's about time I guess.
I spent two weeks this summer in a place called Bormes-les-Mimosas. As you may have guessed, it's famous for its Mimosas which are in bloom in the month of February. It's not an overly well-known vacation destination even though the population of the town multiplies five-fold during the summer. It may just be my favorite of the places I've visited. I don't know if I could actually live there, but I sure would like to find out.
Bormes is a medieval town in the South of France. It was most likely a sleepy fishing village with a couple of nondescript wineries until the English made tourism in the South of France popular. Actually, the Queen of England herself had the first major hotel in Bormes built in the 1930's. Bormes was established by pirates; yep, my kinda town. The whole area that makes the trapezoidal bit between Bormes Village, Les iles d'Hieres, and Le Lavendou has piracy in its history, some of the details of which are amusing and ironic enough that they could lend themselves to a novel: Maybe a good project for me... John Steinbeck's first novel was about piracy... Anyway, I digress.
I've heard that Bormes is the sunniest place in France but that's probably worth confirming. It was sunny enough anyway and hot enough that I questioned the sanity of paying to be there especially at night; I had a hard time sleeping. Air Conditioning hasn't really caught on in France, even now. We rented a house with a pool and as much privacy as possible. The MSU picked well enough, the place was dreamy enough to keep me my normal, dreaming self. The terrain is a combination of pine woods and that typical Mediterranean chaparral that reminds me so much of the high desert where I'm from but more rugged and somehow more charming. The house had a good sized pool and we had it all to ourselves. That's what we paid for after all. My children can't possibly appreciate how lucky they are, but I guess they surely appreciated the pool. Getting out of the water only when near-bodily forced and for meals, it crossed my mind that at some point, that they might grow gills. My second daughter may be part fish; grouper I suspect.
So the overall goal was to do as little as possible although I still had to stay caught up with my classes as best I could and couldn't help but worry about them the rest of the time. I'm growing weary of school but if you regularly read my journal, you know that already.
Bormes-village actually blew my mind. It's just house after house, and stone paths and flowers and trees glued onto the 45% slope of the hill and one against another. It looks like Disney Land or the inside of a Vegas hotel. It's actually amazing to think that after all these centuries there are still people living there, full time, in that maze of foot paths and steps and tunnels and flowers. There are only two or three roads in the whole village that are wide enough to drive a car on but there are hundreds of residences and shops and restaurants all glued together and one-on-top of each other in a wonder of architectural accident that's distinctly Mediterranean, medieval, and real. The thing that I couldn't get over was that it's real; it's not an amusement park, hotel or movie set. There's a castle on the hill that used to be the demure of the feudal lords that used to keep the order. It's half in ruins now and yet it's not open to the public. It's private property and someone lives there.
In Bormes, the women wear skirts; the scenery demands it.
I came back two days later and these three same guys were sitting in this same spot. The cat had left.
We didn't take a place on or near the beach. To get to the beaches from Bormes, you practically have to take your car. The most popular choice is probably Le Lavandou. As for us, we frequented a beach in a neighboring village called St. Claire as well as one of the more secluded spots up the coast from the port (who's name escapes me right now). Later, we did go to the pain and expense of taking a boat to Ile de Porquerolles which may be fodder for yet another post.
Other than that, not much to report. We ate tomatoes and cucumbers and cantaloupe on the terrace most of the time and grilled lamb and pork with herbs and occasionally had sausages and pasta in the evenings. We only ate one night in a restaurant and we had take-out pizza twice. Food wise, it wasn't exactly what I'd call luxury, but it suited the climate well. I usually cooked, as usual, but I tried really hard to be inspired by the region and the climate which called for, in addition to the above, the addition of goat milk cheese, Feta, Mozzarella, and a good quantity of onions and garlic. I didn't leave without a cook book on Mediterranean cooking.
Oh, and we bought soap. The region is known for soap and Lavender. I also bought Lavender which I plan on using to flavor ice cream. I don't have an ice cream maker yet so that's a semi-long-term goal.
For our vacations, I've tried to adopt a rule of never going back to the same place twice so that I can eventually find a fence post with my name on it. In this case, I might make an exception; I'm ready to go back to Bormes.
I spent two weeks this summer in a place called Bormes-les-Mimosas. As you may have guessed, it's famous for its Mimosas which are in bloom in the month of February. It's not an overly well-known vacation destination even though the population of the town multiplies five-fold during the summer. It may just be my favorite of the places I've visited. I don't know if I could actually live there, but I sure would like to find out.
Bormes is a medieval town in the South of France. It was most likely a sleepy fishing village with a couple of nondescript wineries until the English made tourism in the South of France popular. Actually, the Queen of England herself had the first major hotel in Bormes built in the 1930's. Bormes was established by pirates; yep, my kinda town. The whole area that makes the trapezoidal bit between Bormes Village, Les iles d'Hieres, and Le Lavendou has piracy in its history, some of the details of which are amusing and ironic enough that they could lend themselves to a novel: Maybe a good project for me... John Steinbeck's first novel was about piracy... Anyway, I digress.
I've heard that Bormes is the sunniest place in France but that's probably worth confirming. It was sunny enough anyway and hot enough that I questioned the sanity of paying to be there especially at night; I had a hard time sleeping. Air Conditioning hasn't really caught on in France, even now. We rented a house with a pool and as much privacy as possible. The MSU picked well enough, the place was dreamy enough to keep me my normal, dreaming self. The terrain is a combination of pine woods and that typical Mediterranean chaparral that reminds me so much of the high desert where I'm from but more rugged and somehow more charming. The house had a good sized pool and we had it all to ourselves. That's what we paid for after all. My children can't possibly appreciate how lucky they are, but I guess they surely appreciated the pool. Getting out of the water only when near-bodily forced and for meals, it crossed my mind that at some point, that they might grow gills. My second daughter may be part fish; grouper I suspect.
So the overall goal was to do as little as possible although I still had to stay caught up with my classes as best I could and couldn't help but worry about them the rest of the time. I'm growing weary of school but if you regularly read my journal, you know that already.
Bormes-village actually blew my mind. It's just house after house, and stone paths and flowers and trees glued onto the 45% slope of the hill and one against another. It looks like Disney Land or the inside of a Vegas hotel. It's actually amazing to think that after all these centuries there are still people living there, full time, in that maze of foot paths and steps and tunnels and flowers. There are only two or three roads in the whole village that are wide enough to drive a car on but there are hundreds of residences and shops and restaurants all glued together and one-on-top of each other in a wonder of architectural accident that's distinctly Mediterranean, medieval, and real. The thing that I couldn't get over was that it's real; it's not an amusement park, hotel or movie set. There's a castle on the hill that used to be the demure of the feudal lords that used to keep the order. It's half in ruins now and yet it's not open to the public. It's private property and someone lives there.
In Bormes, the women wear skirts; the scenery demands it.
I came back two days later and these three same guys were sitting in this same spot. The cat had left.
We didn't take a place on or near the beach. To get to the beaches from Bormes, you practically have to take your car. The most popular choice is probably Le Lavandou. As for us, we frequented a beach in a neighboring village called St. Claire as well as one of the more secluded spots up the coast from the port (who's name escapes me right now). Later, we did go to the pain and expense of taking a boat to Ile de Porquerolles which may be fodder for yet another post.
Other than that, not much to report. We ate tomatoes and cucumbers and cantaloupe on the terrace most of the time and grilled lamb and pork with herbs and occasionally had sausages and pasta in the evenings. We only ate one night in a restaurant and we had take-out pizza twice. Food wise, it wasn't exactly what I'd call luxury, but it suited the climate well. I usually cooked, as usual, but I tried really hard to be inspired by the region and the climate which called for, in addition to the above, the addition of goat milk cheese, Feta, Mozzarella, and a good quantity of onions and garlic. I didn't leave without a cook book on Mediterranean cooking.
Oh, and we bought soap. The region is known for soap and Lavender. I also bought Lavender which I plan on using to flavor ice cream. I don't have an ice cream maker yet so that's a semi-long-term goal.
For our vacations, I've tried to adopt a rule of never going back to the same place twice so that I can eventually find a fence post with my name on it. In this case, I might make an exception; I'm ready to go back to Bormes.