Crème brulée

Crème brulée at my favourite restaurant in the world, Restaurant le Beausejour in Gorbio, which happens to be my favourite village in the world!

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La crème brulée de  mon restaurant préféré dans le monde, le Restaurant Beauséjour à Gorbio qui se trouve être mon village préféré dans le monde!

La Brigue - Hair Salon!

At the top of the village of La Brigue is the washhouse, so thought I'd take a quick photo and was truly surprised to see this lady washing her hair.  This is freezing cold mountain spring water - her hands and face were red.  Tough these village ladies.

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Vers le haut  du village de La Brigue se trouve le vieux lavoir que j'avais l'intention de prendre en  photo et j'ai été vraiment étonnée de voir cette dame laver ses cheveux. C'est de l'eau de source de montagne glacée  - ses mains et son  visage étaient rouges. Courageuses ces villageoises!

La Brigue - Stairway to Heaven?

Stairway to heaven, perhaps?

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Escalier pour le ciel,  peut-être?

La Brigue - Collegiate Church of Saint-Martin

The interior of the magnificent Collegiate Church of Saint-Martin at La Brigue. It was built between 1484 and 1509. It was listed as one of Italy's historique monuments in 1949.

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L'intérieur de la magnifique Collégiale Saint Martin à La Brigue. Elle a été construite entre 1484 et 1509. Elle a été inscrite comme un des monuments historiques de l'Italie en 1949.

'Ours' - my new dog!

Meet my new dog! He's called Ours, which means Bear in French and he's a mix of a Grand Griffon Vendeen and probably some other large hunting dog. He's five and a half years old. I'll never forget Beau and Mia and Milou and Peggotty and Mistletoe and Scramble and all the wonderful dogs who have lived with me in the past but there is always enough love for a needy dog and goodness, there are enough poor dogs in shelters in this area alone.

The hunter who owned Ours wanted to shoot him - apparently he wasn't any good as a hunting dog! - but fortunately someone rescued him but couldn't keep him as he lived in a studio, so delivered him to the refuge where he has lived for the past two years. He arrived with injuries to a leg and terribly thin.

He's terrified of men in particular but meeting anyone new is a trauma for him. He's never lived in a house so all the sounds of a house scare him and outside sounds he doesn't know, like cars on the autoroute worry him greatly.

Having said all that he is a total love and in only 48 hours has found the places in the house where he feels safe: at my feet when I'm at the computer and by my bed!

I found his photo on the website of the SDA of Nice which is in Tourettes-Levens. Most impressive refuge, spotlessly clean and all the dogs well cared for and lovely people working there who cried when Ours left with me. 

Isn't he gorgeous!

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Voici mon nouveau chien! Il s'appelle Ours, c'est un mélange de Grand Griffon Vendéen et probablement d'un autre grand chien de chasse. Il a cinq ans et demi. Je n'oublierai jamais Beau, Mia, Milou, Peggotty,  Mistletoe et Scramble et tous les merveilleux chiens qui ont vécu avec moi dans le passé,  mais il y a toujours assez d'amour pour un chien en manque d'un foyer et malheureusement il y en a beaucoup dans des abris de la région PACA.

Le chasseur à qui il appartenait a voulu le tuer - apparemment il n'était pas assez bon comme chien de chasse! - et heureusement quelqu'un l'a sauvé.  Mais ne pouvant  pas le garder dans le studio où il  vivait, cette personne l'a laissé  au refuge où il a vécu les deux dernières années. Il y est arrivé avec des blessures à une jambe et très maigre.

Il est terrifié par les hommes en particulier et  la rencontre avec quelqu'un de nouveau est un trauma pour lui. Il n'a jamais vécu dans une maison donc tous les sons de celle-ci l'effrayent ainsi que ceux de l'extérieur qu'il ne connaît pas, tels les voitures sur l'autoroute qui l'inquiètent grandement.

Ceci dit, c' est un amour et en seulement 48 heures,  il a trouvé les endroits dans la maison où il se sent en sûreté: à mes pieds quand je suis à l'ordinateur et à côté de mon lit!

J'ai trouvé sa photo sur le site Web de la SDA de Nice, qui se trouve à Tourettes-Levens. Un refuge  impressionnant, extrêmement propre où tous les chiens sont bien soignés par les gens charmants qui y travaillent et qui ont pleuré quand Ours est parti avec moi.

N'est pas il magnifique! 

La Brigue - Collegiate Church of Saint-Matin

One of the splendours of the magnificient Collegiate Church of Saint-Martin at La Brigue, a beautiful village in the Roya valley.

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Une des splendeurs de la magnifique Collégiale Saint Martin  à La Brigue, un beau village dans la vallée Roya.

Port de Garavan, Menton

'Don't jump in!'

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''Ne sautez pas dedans!'

Calm

'The ideal of calm is in a sitting cat'
 

- Jules Renard

'L'idéal du calme est dans un chat assis. »

Sky in the Sea

Sky in the sea at the port of Garavan.

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La ciel dans la mer au port de Garavan.

La Brigue - iPad or Fishing

Remember when young boys used to go fishing instead of playing on their iPads? They still do in La Brigue.

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Souvenez-vous quand les jeunes garçons avaient l'habitude d'aller pêcher au lieu de jouer sur leurs iPad ? Ils le font toujours à La Brigue.

La Brigue - Double-headed Eagle

A narrow street in the ancient mountain village of La Brigue, yet only 56 kilometres from Menton. The first mention of this village is in the XIth century and since then has had a chequered history of being either French or Italian. In fact, La Brigue finally became part of France after World War II, when Italy was forced to hand it over in September 1947 under the terms of the 1947 Peace of Paris.

The double-headed eagle, crowned in gold, is part of the coat of arms of the village.

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Une ruelle étroite dans le village de montagne de La Brigue,  à seulement 56 kilomètres de Menton. La première mention de ce village remonte au XIème siècle  et il a eu depuis lors une histoire en dents de scie en étant tantôt  français, tantôt italien. En fait, La Brigue a fait  finalement partie de la France après la Deuxième Guerre mondiale, quand l'Italie a été forcée de la restituer, en septembre 1947,  conformément à la Paix de Paris de 1947.

L'aigle à deux têtes, couronné  d'or, fait partie du blason du village.

La Brigue - the Old Mill

The Roya Valley begins in Tende and ends in Ventimiglia, just across the border in Italy and every village, as you climb higher and higher into the mountains is an unspoiled joy. Just off the main Roya Valley road and at a dead end is La Brigue, which is dissected by the River Lavenza, a tributory of the River Roya.

This is the Old Mill of La Brigue, a short distance from the village itself. How idyllic is this!

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La Vallée de la Roya commence à Tende, se termine à Vintimille, traverse la frontière en Italie et chaque village, comme c'est le cas quand vous montez de plus en plus haut dans les montagnes, est une joie naturelle. En quittant la route principale de la Vallée de la Roya , sur une route sans issue de trouve La Brigue, qui est traversée par la rivière Lavenza, un affluent de la Roya.
Ceci est le Vieux Moulin de La Brigue, à une distance courte du village lui-même.  N'est ce pas idyllique!

Childhood pleasures

If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older. 

- Tom Stoppard

Si vous portez votre enfance en vous, vous ne deviendrez  jamais plus vieux.

Happy Easter!

I'd not want the hangover he's going to have tomorrow.

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Je ne voudrais pas la gueule de bois qu'il va avoir demain.

Sarah

Sarah, always smiling Sarah, writes up the menu outside the Bar/Restaurant Les Terrasses in Gorbio.

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Sarah, la  toujours souriante Sarah écrit le menu à l'extérieur du Bar / Restaurant Les Terrasses a Gorbio.

Puglia - and proud to be 80!

We're much further south in Italy today. I met this lady in Puglia and she proudly told me she is 80 years old - hence the 8 fingers and thumbs!

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Aujourd'hui, nous sommes beaucoup plus au sud, en Italie.  J'ai rencontré cette dame dans les Pouilles et elle m'a dit fièrement qu'elle a 80 ans - d'où les 8 doigts et les pouces!

Le Clos du Peyronnet - Green Glass

A row of old demi-johns that appear to float on the water at Le Clos du Peyronnet.


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Une rangée de vieilles dame-jeannes qui semblent flotter sur l'eau au Clos du Peyronnet.

Last puff

Place du Cap

Walk past any restaurant around 12h.00 and the chef and waiting staff will be taking a last break, probably with a cigarette, before the lunchtime service begins.

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Passez devant n'importe quel restaurant autour de mid, le chef et les serveurs attendent en faisant une dernière pause,  probablement avec une cigarette, avant que le service de midi ne commence.

Unspoiled

Nothing chi-chi, just a few old houses in a cobbled square just around the corner from Place du Cap.

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Pas de chichi, juste quelques vieilles maisons sur une place pavée juste derrière de la Place du Cap.

Mia's last day

Some of you have met Mia, a Bassett Ariegois - or seen this photo of her in exhibitions.  Sadly, today she was put to sleep.

It's been a bad few weeks lately.  First, my oldest dog, Beau - a black and tan Bruno du Jura, had to be put to sleep. It was his time. Indeed the deed was done not a day too early or too late and I was okay about it. He'd had a good life here and lived far longer than he would have in the particular refuge he was in.

But Mia, who had a dreadful early life (as did Beau) didn't deserve to have been so sick for the last two or three weeks of her life. She'd had an ear infection for six months, nothing would clear it up and the skin deep within her ear got so thin it started bleeding.  At this time I changed vets, not because I didn't have the best faith in my old vet but because Mia was so car sick every time I drove a distance to her and she understood and agreed. The new vet gave me product for her ears that went into her blood stream and caused massive inbalance and semi-paralysis -  and ever since then we've been trying to get her right. And I changed vets again, of course.

Last night she became totally paralyzed and so this morning she went to the vet on her last journey.

When I got Mia around 7 years ago she'd been living in a filthy 2 metre square run with another dog, Mistral. She'd obviously had several litters of puppies and was thin as a stick and with bleeding skin. They'd been living on top of years of excrement and having food thrown over the fence. The owner died and the son wanted to shoot them.  So, they came to me. Mistral lived only 3 months because she had cancer, but Mia put on weight and was in excellent health, except mentally and emotionally. All her years with me she was terrified of any visitor, especially men.

Mia was a wonderful dog, so kind, so sensitive. I miss her like crazy. 

So, now, this house is very empty. I have this photo of Mia hanging on my wall. And another of Beau hangs elsewhere. I'll show you Beau's photo another time.

(the second photo shows Mia with her friend Maggie, in the background).