France

French Food

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I’ve meant to post this for so long, but here are photos of most of the lunches and dinners I had this past summer while in the South of France with my mom for a week in May. We stayed at Ferme le Pavilon, a restaurant and inn in Bargemon, about an hour from Nice. Above is the first meal I had at a restaurant in the town of Bargemon. It was an amazing, rich lasagna with salad on the side.

On the left, I’ve pictured the typical breakfast from our stay: usually we’d drink fresh orange juice, French-press coffee, yogurt with homemade granola and berries, and slices of croissants with butter. The photograph on the right is my hand holding “pur jus ananas.” I think I drank a bottle of pineapple juice practically every day.

Above, my mom is smiling right before we dug into a delicious lunch. I can’t remember the name of the restaurant or where we were, but I had a mouth-watering form of steak tartare (at least that’s what I think it was!) All I know for certain is that the meat pictured above was raw, with slices of Parmesan cheese, pomegranate seeds, and carrots and lettuce to top it all off.

The three photos above from our first dinner in the Bargemon area. In addition to crispy, warm bread with butter, we both chose salads for the first course. I had asparagus with cheese, lettuce, and some kind of crumble, while my mom ate a Caprese-style salad. We both decided upon the steak filets (possibly filet mignons?) for the main course before sharing a gorgeous mousse/cake.

It’s been much too long to recall any more details about the meals pictured in the the gallery above, but if you have any specific questions about ingredients or flavors please comment! I will do my best to remember specifics.

The Saint(e)s

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Everybody knows Saint-Tropez from its enormous yachts and frequent celebrity sightings, but Sainte-Maxime was just as beautiful, if only a little less fancy. Somehow my mom and I ended up in Sainte-Maxime on the day of the festival celebrating Maxime, the town’s patron saint. Light blue and white balloons were all over the streets accompanied by a reenactment of a battle within the town complete with rounds of blanks fired by men dressed as soldiers. The fake-shooting was a bit disturbing and sounded like very loud and obnoxious construction noises; once it started, we realized it was our cue to leave Sainte-Maxime.

Saint-Maxine also has a beautiful beach and tons of cute shops, such as the incredibly visually-appealing soap store pictured above. Another convenient part of the town was the twenty-minute ferry running between the ports of the Cote D’Azur. We decided to ferry to Saint-Tropez as it was our original destination, but Sainte-Maxime was much better for parking and walking on the beach. In the five photos above, from the upper-left to the bottom-right, the images display: the Sainte-Maxime beach, balloons and a portrait of Sainte-Maxime herself, a soap and fragrance store, a Sainte-Maxime palm tree, and my mother standing by the city’s port.

The most fascinating part of Saint-Tropez was seeing so many yachts, all in one place. We witnessed a crew leading one yacht into its spot at the port, slowly guiding the massive vessel. Saint-Tropez was also full of every kind of designer store available. Walking through the streets was like strolling down Fifth Avenue or Newbury Street, except we were in a little Mediterranean French town. In the gallery of photos above, from the upper-left to the bottom-right, there is: the sign announcing entrance to the Saint-Tropez port from the ferry boat, the view of Saint-Tropez and its harbor from atop a hill, another huge yacht, a view looking up at the buildings, another photograph of a street, what I think might be a fire hydrant (?) with the sticker “J’existe,” and a third image of Saint-Tropez’s streets – this one from a little further from the town’s center.

Los Gatos Internacionales

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I need to preface this by saying I don’t like cats (at all!), but there’s something magical about their constant presence in almost all non-American cities and provincial towns. One of the first things I heard about Israel after landing in Tel Aviv was “prepare yourself for the stray cats.” Sure enough, as soon as we set foot in the Degania Bet Kibbutz, two or three cats could be seen roaming the kibbutz’s patio at any given time.

Three Cats from Israel’s Kinneret region

Jewish Quarter, Jerusalem’s Old City: This cat made out with a very holy stone wall as our guide told us about the significance of the Dome of the Rock and explained the Armenian quarter of Jerusalem.

Given the cats are strays, we weren’t really supposed to touch them…

A cursed Bedouin tent cat
I couldn’t help it if it rubbed against me, though.

In France, I traveled with my mom, who really hates cats in addition to being very, very allergic to them. The French cats were much bolder than the Israeli cats as they crept above us on medieval stone walls in vaguely threatening ways.

An honorable mention goes to this cat, Tiger, in the middle picture above. He belonged to the place in which we stayed and was very sweet, although he had sharp claws.

I’m still searching for Spanish cats during my time in Madrid. So far, no cats, although so many Madrileños have incredibly well-behaved dogs. I will keep looking and update all.