Hello there and Merry, Merry Christmas! I bet you must be lounging on the couch now giving your bulging belly a good rub. Well done, darling. I have certainly done more than one’s fair share of that in the past few days, all the feasting and merrymaking, it’s Christmas spirit we are talking about!
Quite an oxymoronic title today. Since when does the sun & the sea go hand in hand with Christmas? I would have to apologise if you’re here hoping to read about a cold, glacial, nestling around the fireplace type of holiday, because none of these will happen in Béziers. At a town in the south of France, drawing close to the Mediterranean Sea, wishing for snow is like hoping for a cow to sing.
Parisian Sunday has always been unworthily quiet. The shops are close but a few like Printemps made an exception yesterday to help the Christmas shoppers tick off their to-do lists at a faster and merrier pace. The smell of leather, the yieldingly soft cashmere and shiny display at the cosmetic counters got me a little giddy as we wove through the festive vines searching for a pair of perfect gloves.
France, outside of Paris, is quite a different scene. Travelling out of the capital is like sneaking out of the screening room halfway through a romantic movie and creeping in to a drama film next door.
It was an intimate party with only family and the closest friends, set in the family’s holiday home at Marcy, a little village in Beaujolais, east of France. The house was over a 100 years old and many parts and details of the olden days were left untouched in spite of a few refurbishments. There was a big garden adorned with assorted flowers in rich colours, rows of almond trees…
It was a state of euphoria, the first time I stepped foot in Paris. I knew I had fallen in love with this city. I knew I had to fall in love in this city. And I did. Cliché, but classic. After all, who can ever resist the alluring sparkles of the City of Love?