Beauty Everywhere!

I’ve written about Z and Alberte before. They’re amazing people. They’re kind, loving, simply, and they’ve taken me in.

I can think of countless times this summer when they’ve come to my rescue in one way or another. Each time family was at the house, they’d come up for a bottle of wine and good conversation. I looked forward to each visit.

A few nights ago, they came to drink with Grandma & Papa. My French was on that night and we chatted about a number of things. They invited us to their house for dinner. Tonight.

It was phenomenal! They clearly adore my grandparents, something that’s so sweet to see. I had not been in their small, beautiful house before and immediately upon entering, Z turned to me. “Viens! Viens!” I followed him. He took me to their huge panoramic window overlooking the valley, the mountain of Camarat, the sea. He pointed at the things I ought to recognize – the vineyards, where I was supposed to help with the vin d’âge; the phare, the lighthouse beside which I live; the campground, home of the famed Ptit Club where I once worked and they often visited; the sea, the same sea I can see from our view here. He went on and on… it was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

We talked about the beauty of the area. “Viens, viens!” again, Z was excited to show me something. A frame 8x10 photograph of our view, the beaches, the water, the trees, the coast – all covered in snow. I’d seen the image once before but it’s striking every time. Who knew it could snow here?

We sat and had champagne, homemade appetizers, watched TV (something I haven’t done since last May – wow! What a thing a television is!). A buzzer rang. “Catherine,” Z called again in his thick, hoarse, mumbled voice. “Viens avec moi!” And I followed him to the kitchen. He pulled out a pan of enormous, big eyed fish dressed in sauce and vegetables. “Beau!” He was right. They were beautiful. And they made an excellent meal.

We sat around the table talking and drinking and eating. It was wonderful; I don’t know how to explain it. It’s amazing to see such a sweet man as Z get so animated about things – the fish we were eating as well as the Nioulargue (La Voile de St. Tropez, the huge upcoming sailboat race) – because he was a fisherman and an excellent boullabaise chef at the famed Chez Camille. And Alberte is a doll, a kind person so fond of my family with a laugh that rings through the entire house. I can’t wait to see them again; maybe by the American jazz ensemble on the port during Nioularge that they spoke so excitedly about…



It’s now nearly 4am. I was sleeping soundly in bed, pleasantly dreaming, perfectly content. Tequila was not. She was whining, scratching the door, being a pain in the ass.

All I wanted to do was sleep! She’d been out, she’d eaten, she’d had some water, what more could she want?! I sat up, frustrating, searched for the light and looked into her big white face, begging to go out. Ugh. Fine. It’s not fair to her to not get up (though she can open all the doors of the house so I’m not sure why she didn’t.)

I stumbled downstairs cursing with Tequila at my heels. Out she went. I continued to mumbled under my breath, frustrated because I knew it’d be a challenge to fall back asleep after a 5 hour nap. Then the loving side took hold and I feared Tequila was eaten by boars, so I stepped on to porch, searching the wilderness for her glowing white fur. There she was, making poopy circles in a distant patch of trees. I sighed, rolling my eyes and then –

Wow.

That’s what we call a true Camarat Sky. The air is perfect, light, clear; no haze hangs above you, no wind stirs the dust from the trees. There are more stars shining down than you ever thought could fit in the sky. And they’re crystal clear and huge, like tons of miniscule Christmas lights. I’ve never seen something like this, and I’ve seen the sky on clear nights here where the milky way is full of so many individual starts it becomes a solid path of light in the sky, where the moon is so big and bright you can see its craters on its surface and in its shimmering reflection on the sea below. Tonight was even more beautiful, dressed in even more stars. Satellites pedaled by, shooting stars fell occasionally, and there – somewhere directly above my little, pajama-covered body standing on this porch on this mountain – sparkled the brightest star in all the night sky. Big, red, glowing permanently. Mars? Who knows…

But I do know that if Tequila didn’t decide to get the shits I’d never see a sight like this.