Thanks, Olivier. I love those photos, and I really believe the quality from actual film that had to be developed is better than anything our phones can do. By better, I mean I sense the soul of the place in these old photos. I feel film is more loyal to the light and to the place than any phone would be. I'm not an especially good photographer, but back then with a decent camera--mine was a little Olympus--and Provence's spectacular light, why you could produce wonders.
Delightful.piece.. great memories were clearly being made.. It takes me back... . I did a mini version of this but on my own as a young woman travelling in France.. ( essentially giving myself a gap year before I knew there were such things as gap years ) I rented an apartment in the port area of Nice before its gentrification.I met many Tunisians, Algerians but few French people during my time in Nice. These immigrants could not have been nicer, and came to my rescue when the toilet flooded ( it had the bad habit of acting in reverse, bubbling up water and spilling over rather than flushing. ! or the lock wouldn't work... ) I looked for work as an au pair and finally found work as a femme de menage for an elderly couple ( I am much older now so I use the term with some hesitation. ) My diminishing funds forced me home sooner than I would have liked, but I do remember the kindness of those I met but also how very specific and particular the French can be about their lifestyle and etiquette.. I have since travelled back with a few more euros in my pocket but nothing can replace those spare times in terms of pocket change but full times in terms of experience..
That experience becomes part of one's soul, forever changed. I have traveled to all of those places and only got the tip of the iceberg. Even in the short time, going to the local market and bringing back produce and flowers arranged in whatever glass available sets the tone for a majectic evening. You were lucky to linger for longer.
Lovely to read and imagine being there, Richard. AH.
Thank you, Jody.
So much poetry and passion for Provence in this piece, Richard. I also enjoy seeing pictures of the village and its population.
Thanks, Olivier. I love those photos, and I really believe the quality from actual film that had to be developed is better than anything our phones can do. By better, I mean I sense the soul of the place in these old photos. I feel film is more loyal to the light and to the place than any phone would be. I'm not an especially good photographer, but back then with a decent camera--mine was a little Olympus--and Provence's spectacular light, why you could produce wonders.
I agree, Richard. Film photography had an aura. And just as with cinematography, the light is where it's at.
Delightful.piece.. great memories were clearly being made.. It takes me back... . I did a mini version of this but on my own as a young woman travelling in France.. ( essentially giving myself a gap year before I knew there were such things as gap years ) I rented an apartment in the port area of Nice before its gentrification.I met many Tunisians, Algerians but few French people during my time in Nice. These immigrants could not have been nicer, and came to my rescue when the toilet flooded ( it had the bad habit of acting in reverse, bubbling up water and spilling over rather than flushing. ! or the lock wouldn't work... ) I looked for work as an au pair and finally found work as a femme de menage for an elderly couple ( I am much older now so I use the term with some hesitation. ) My diminishing funds forced me home sooner than I would have liked, but I do remember the kindness of those I met but also how very specific and particular the French can be about their lifestyle and etiquette.. I have since travelled back with a few more euros in my pocket but nothing can replace those spare times in terms of pocket change but full times in terms of experience..
I couldn't agree more, Susan. Sometimes--not when you're elderly!--not having money is a gift.
That experience becomes part of one's soul, forever changed. I have traveled to all of those places and only got the tip of the iceberg. Even in the short time, going to the local market and bringing back produce and flowers arranged in whatever glass available sets the tone for a majectic evening. You were lucky to linger for longer.
Yes, I was lucky and I knew it.
I loved being immersed there in your book ,French Dirt. I could feel the sun and taste the food you grew. Thanks for the vicarious trip.
My pleasure.