Title : Of Airplane Travel and a Francophile's Vintage Treasures. . .
link : Of Airplane Travel and a Francophile's Vintage Treasures. . .
Of Airplane Travel and a Francophile's Vintage Treasures. . .
Since we last met here, I've flown over the Tyrennhian and then the Ligurian seas, the island of Corsica, all bathed in sunshine. . .
flown over the Alps into France,
deeper and deeper into whiteness. . . . of snow-covered peaks, at first, and then, gradually, of clouds that look enchantingly fluffy and white when viewed from above . . .
but that were dispensing Wet Grey over London as we descended into Heathrow airport, the pilot applauded for maintaining a straight course along the landing strip despite the buffeting by a healthy wind. . . .
The next flight, nine hours in one of the inside seats in that central set of four in a 747, shall not be spoken of because I try to avoid profanity here. I managed to avoid using it on that plane against the woman who reclined her seat back right up to my navel as soon as we were airborne, kept it that way through meals, the only concession (sarcasm alert) being that she bounced it regularly as she struggled for the precise sleeping position she wanted. . . . And thus ends my experiment with resisting that extra fee to choose a seat before check-in! (I'm just over 5'3", not skinny but small enough, and I figured I could tolerate anything for nine hours, trying to stick to a modest budget for this extra travel). Not enough room to remove my shoes, let alone to stretch my back, keep the blood flowing, reach my knitting from its spot under the seat above (Hers! Hiss!!). But there was ample room for my carry-on, even though I was in the last Group to board, and I did survive the nine hours, and really, as gruelling as contemporary air travel can be, I must admit it's a marvel as well. Still hearing the echoes of Darling Four's "I love you, Nana" . . . Imagining the desolation a daughter's trans-continental move meant only a few generations ago. . .
And I managed to sleep six hours last night (albeit broken up into two shifts: 9pm-1am and 4am to 6), had a decent nap yesterday, and I'm beginning to sort photographs and gather thoughts and play in my sketchbooks with ways to render memories. I warn you there will be more posting about this trip as I integrate my experiences with my life back home (where Christmas is hurtling towards us even as the lengthening nights counsel us to slow down, to take it easier).
As well, I have an exciting post planned for early next week -- an interview with a woman who, with her husband and dog, moved to France earlier this year after eleven years in Seattle, which she'd moved to from New York, and where she opened a jewelry studio in Pioneer Square in 2010 -- which is how I came to know her, I believe, through her Instagram account.
I'm fascinated, always, by accounts of ex-pat life -- I have long had a secret yearning to try it out, but the reality of family makes it unlikely I will manage that this lifetime. A vicarious ex-pat life, though? I'll follow that with avid interest. And if that ex-pat life evolves to include building a small business scouring Lyon's flea markets and vintage fairs to bring back to life and offer on Etsy? Let's just say that I've "Liked" every one of Joanna's My French Maison posts, and I suspect the many Francophiles among you will as well.
I had intended to wait until next week to introduce Joanna to you, and I'm still going to wait to publish our interview then, but meanwhile, I know that some of you are looking for special gifts for special people -- and that Recycling vintage treasures will appeal to many. On her latest post, I see that My French Maison still has a few of the vintage chandelier crystals -- and Joanna remarks there that there's still time enough to ship these for Christmas. . .
I suspect she still has some of these classic French torchons (linen tea/dish towels) as well, and I'm quite sure she has just the cutlery pieces to glam up your table settings with some eclectic sophistication. . .
(and in keeping with the theme, my friend Sue over at Une Femme has posted a collection of gift suggestions for the Francophiles in your life.
Off to feed my sourdough starter now -- that first batch of bread will help compensate for the croissants I'm missing. . . And I have a Three coming to visit later this morning, so I'll be poking holes into oranges for his chubby little fingers to push cloves into. . . one of my favourite, simple, pre-Christmas traditions.
And you? What are you up to as that calendar leaf turns over to reveal the last month of 2018? If you visit Joanna at her French Maison, do say hello from me, tell her I sent you . . .
xo,
f
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