While in Provence, even if you may not always be close to make a day trip to Greece to see the gorgeous waters, there are plenty of places to spend a day aside of the water and gasp at how blue they are. One place to this is to take a day trip to the Gorges Du Verdon. Pack a picnic basket, a hat, and be ready to get your toes wet to fully enjoy the gorges.


The whole day starting at the gorges was planned via Georges! While living in Aix-en-Provence for almost two months, I luckily got plenty of opportunities if I wanted to take weekend day trips with a local guide who hosted bus trips, Georges.

Throughout the summer weeks he made sure to offer trips from local to as far away as Monte Carlo for those to enjoy, trip usually also accompanied by information on the bus, usually spoken in French, so brush up on those French words if you are still learning as I am!

For about twenty euro the entire trip of seeing the gorges, Moustiers, and the lavender fields was taken care of. The bus left outside the Grand Hotel Roi Rene in the early morning. From Aix-en-Provence to the Lac de Sainte Croix, the trip is approximately two hours though it definitely felt shorter.


Though that may have been my excitement talking.

The Gorges du Verdon is a canyon that stretches over fifteen miles and about 2,000 feet deep. Set in south east France, north of Nice, the Verdon River flows through the gorge and into our beautiful and relaxing setting of the Lac de Sainte Croix.

Though the Gorges du Verdon is the deepest gorge in France, land the lake itself is the second largest, let's be honest and say that all these grand facts are not the exact reason to visit.



Crossing the bridge over the stunning aquamarine water that flows from the man made lake of Sainte-Croix, I am pretty sure that I have only seen such a color before in a Crayola box.




Then I was off for to the next stop of the day. To Moustiers-Sainte-Marie!

Though I didn't live like French royalty while I was there, I certainly enjoyed my time while in Versailles. After a train ride that I almost got lost on, I wandered around the corner through the city and I was there, staring into a building of patterned gold.

I also saw an already long forming line an hour before it opened, but that is besides the point. The luxury! The beauty! I spent my day wandering Versailles through each room before heading to the gardens. There, I spent even more time, letting myself be lost within the hedges of the most lovely landscape created, filled with flowers and fountains and of course, ice cream for when the sun got a little too warm.











After wandering hours and further breaking in my shoes I brought for the weekend, it was time to go back to my hostel to rest up for my final next day, but if you have an extra day while in Paris to travel out towards magnificent Versailles, I definitely suggest it. Be sure you get there early with time to walk and a full camera battery!

The Bloggess has been serving up the best in comedic blog posts since blogging was a real sort of thing to do with your life. In her first memoir, Let's Pretend it Never Happened (A mostly true memoir) the realness of life and comedy within it does not stop on a computer screen. Nope, you can now read the hilarious Jenny Lawson in print.

Taxidermy animals and adorable marriage goals included.

photo credit: the bloggess

Recently I have been on a memoir kick and I don't think that my love for them will stop after reading this book that I picked up from the free book shelf within my study abroad school. Someone like me it seemed could just not fit this wonderful paperback back into their carry-on.

What does fit however, is the awkward memories of me laughing in public while reading this book of adventures told by an anxiety afflicted woman who I felt like I understood very well already just by finding out that alone. In unfiltered detail, she tells about the moments throughout her life. This goes from being a poor kid in a town no one really knows of in Texas, having a dad who I wouldn't ever want to say had something really cool he wanted to show me (see back to "taxidermy included"), and finally arriving at the point of her life now where Jenny has a family and very kind husband of her own who will totally fight her on if Jesus could be considered a zombie or not.

Again, goals.

The stories at times are as crazy as possibly Jenny may call herself, but overall they are great in that weird "no, seriously, you cannot make this stuff up" sort of way. Each story also only managed to increase my admiration and appreciation for Jenny Lawson page by page, both for her view of the world and for her ease of writing, even if it isn't always showing her life in the best of lights as we like to usually let others see out in the open. Especially on the internet. But in the end, she is right. Bloggers write because they want to be heard and usually are too awkward and antisocial to actually shout.

And thank goodness The Bloggess was.

Be prepared to laugh and cringe and do all the sorts of things you need a memoir to do, especially if you will be reading it as I was, sitting in an airport waiting for my perpetually delayed flight. My fellow passengers didn't think I was strange at all...

About the Author

Out for the day with my creative writing class for another adventure that did not turn out to be "just getting a baguette in the park" my professors took us to Baux Castle. But that was not our first stop. No, our first stop was in Les Baux-de-Provence, and quite possibly the best art exhibition I have ever seen, or rather, been a part of.

Carrières de Lumières.





Previously the site of a quarry, this now cave like structure is home to a changing art exhibit that immerses viewers like myself and the rest of my class that had no idea previously what we were walking into.

First thought I had as I handed my ticket over and pushed past the curtain was that we were walking into a dark pitch black cave.

Then I saw the light. Many lights actually. A light show! Art.

Entitled, "Picasso and the Spanish Masters," artists such as Picasso, Goya, and Sorolla are presented over the walls of quarry's cave like structure of white limestone. This show continues to run from March 2, 2018 to 6 January 6, 2019. Plenty of time to make this art experience a must on your list when visiting Provence.




As we watched the show happen on a loop around us, we were free to wander around each wall, up each incline of stone in order to see every possible angle the works of art had in store.

Music played all around me as I watched, feeling the need to dance-- but don't worry, I did indeed restrain myself this time.


Never have I been so amazed by an art exhibition. By Picasso, even! who I had been seeing scattered all throughout Provence as a headliner to many art galleries this summer. The hour I had to spend wandering and simply standing still to see the art move to the music all around me, seemed to pass in seconds. When I walked out the only way I could describe the show was, amazing.

Because it was.

Amazing.

Out of this world. Worthy of a place among all art shows and galleries forevermore.

In Aix-en-Provence and need something to do? In the city of Aix, art and history surrounds you every day, and over the past few weeks that I have spent in Aix, I had been to quite a few of the museums Aix has to offer to get an even closer look at the art Provence was built on.

Here are a few of the amazing ones to visit through day, and may I suggest a picnic to relax in between at Pavillion Vendome?

Cezanne's Studio

For art enthusiasts and admirers, be sure to stop in for a quick visit to Cezanne's Studio where one can see all of his furniture, still life model of fruit featured in many paintings (including one in Musee Granet), and work tools, well preserved. For a guided tour, just be sure you go at time that speaks your preferred English or French.

Musee Granet

A public museum holding paintings and sculptures dating back to antiquity. It features paintings from Paul Cezanne, as well as paintings hosted for exhibition. While I was there this included a large section of Picasso. If I had to change anything of my time in the museum wandering through the paintings mainly on the bottom floor, it would be to spend some time with the marbles the group I was with wandered past on the way out. They looked lonely, and the one sculpture pointing at me was in need of an Instagram opportunity.

Musee du Viel Aix

Set in a historic summer home for a family who most likely lived up north long ago, this is now a museum of the city of Aix-en-Provence holding collections of antique prints, paintings, dolls, and document plans

Pavillon Vendome

A very short walk away from city center, Pavillon Vendome is situated in a French formal garden, stay off the grass, but do spend some time in the area to soak in the sun and beautiful greenery before heading into the grand house that looks like it could be out of Jane Austen. Inside the museum, the collection is mainly comprised of portraits and Provencal furniture as well as certain contemporary art exhibitions.



And though not a specific museum...

Watch out for Art Exhibition and Open Studios

Beautiful art is everywhere! Exhibitions throughout center city are prominently displayed usually for all to enjoy, and if you are looking for a little less commitment from walking through rows of oil panting, walk around the city of Aix instead. You are sure to come across a studio or art seller around each corner to admire.

When I came to Europe I thought, yeah, I am good. I am not going to buy any books.

I was wrong.

No one’s ever told Eleanor that life should be better than fine.
Meet Eleanor Oliphant: She struggles with appropriate social skills and tends to say exactly what she’s thinking. Nothing is missing in her carefully timetabled life of avoiding social interactions, where weekends are punctuated by frozen pizza, vodka, and phone chats with Mummy.
But everything changes when Eleanor meets Raymond, the bumbling and deeply unhygienic IT guy from her office. When she and Raymond together save Sammy, an elderly gentleman who has fallen on the sidewalk, the three become the kinds of friends who rescue one another from the lives of isolation they have each been living. And it is Raymond’s big heart that will ultimately help Eleanor find the way to repair her own profoundly damaged one.

This was book number one. I went into Book in Bar, the cutest little mainly English bookstore in Aix-en-Provence and saw it lying on the table- but no. No, Kendra, I told myself. You are not going to let one of your first purchases in France be a book. You buy too many books already. 

So I put poor lonely Eleanor back down.

Very few days later I went back, and it was gone. Eleanor Oliphant in the EU cover, paperback edition that we did not have in the US was gone! My eyes widened to where The Lesser Bohemians took its place, searching just be to be sure it wasn't covered up by another novel. It was only after hyping myself up for a few moments, I went towards the counter.

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour," the woman at the desk responded, stopping her typing. She waited for me.

Deep breathes. I had this. "Tu parles anglais?"

At least I had enough words to hopefully switch to English. After all how was I supposed to ask if they had Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, otherwise? Tu a Eleanor Oliphant est ca va? No. I am pretty sure that is wrong on a number of levels.




She smiled and said yes to the first question. No, to the second.

"But we are ordering a new shipment. It should be in on Wednesday or Thursday if you don't mind. I can put your name down."

"Ah, ok. Oui. C'est bon." And by this I meant awesome, now I can come into Book in Bar everyday to just be around the books and annoy the staff by pleasantly asking if the book came in early. Score!

By Thursday though, right on the day they said. Eleanor was in. That evening back home instead of doing my art history homework, I set to reading.

Right away I was struck by the epigraph that begins the novel written by Olivia Laing in The Lonely City.

"...loneliness is hallmarked by an intense desire to bring the experience to a close; something which cannot be achieved by sheer willpower or by simply getting out more, but only by developing intimate connections. This is far easier said than done, especially for people whose loneliness arises from a state of loss or exile or prejudice, who have reason to fear or mistrust as well as long for the society of others.
Loneliness is accretive, extending and perpetuating itself. Once it becomes impacted, it is by no means easy to dislodge."

First of all, I rarely read epigraphs but this one was something else, completely summing up the story as well as how I was beginning to feel myself as a person alone in a new country for the next so many weeks.




As if I needed anymore incentive, I read one for hours into the night, falling into the critical yet utterly unique voice that Eleanor brings forth as she begins to step out from her self-isolation and into a new sort of social interaction she had not experienced before.

“People don’t like these facts, but I can’t help that. If someone asks you how you are, you are meant to say FINE. You are not meant to say that you cried yourself to sleep last night because you hadn’t spoken to another person for two consecutive days. FINE is what you say.”

Along with that social interaction I can firmly say that I have not read a book like this ever before with easy frankness and a distinct narrative that does not shy away from everything Eleanor is from someone who is interesting, quirky, awkward, and completely emotional overall. She is after all, a woman who in the beginning of the novel tells you straight up that on Friday she goes home from work with a frozen margarita pizza and two bottles of vodka to make it to Monday.

Most of all I feel like in this day in age where social interaction is no longer a strict requirement, Eleanor's story is all too relatable.

By the end of this novel however, I was floored with how much I felt that I had lived through with Eleanor even though there were not a whole lot of different events taking place in the book. More like, realizations. We are show almost all the sorts of kindness and forms of love there is in the world to ultimately bring forth the idea that it is never to late to make a change in one's life for the better. A lesson that Eleanor learns and I personally think I still need to at times.

Eleanor's character definitely grew on me the more I read to definitely make this thought provoking and emotionally trying novel one of my favorites of the year, simply by the fact that I haven't stopped thinking about Eleanor, Glen the cat, Raymond, and the entire story itself since I have put it down.

T'is a rare strange novel this one.

Happy release day to The Chateau by Tiffany Reisz!

Wow, another release day for Tiffany Reisz. This lady can whip out books fast and they never seem to disappoint. The story of Frenchman Kingsley as a young spy was already set up as a win and she took it even further, intertwining his story with The Story of O. Immediately I was in, and I bet so were almost all of the Original Sinners fans who already know the esteemed, funny, and highly seductive Kingsley Edge.

Advance Praise for The Chateau: An Erotic Thriller:

"Compulsive, erotic, suspenseful. A must read!" — A Woman and Her Books

"Five stars." — Reading Keeps Me Sane Blog 

"I just can't get enough of Tiffany Reisz." — Caro, Collector of Book Boyfriends 

"Kinky... [keeps] you on the edge till the end." — Sweet & Spicy Reviews 

"Feminists are once again making a stand in the world and the timing seems quite perfect as this novel is an intriguing look into the world of a strong, sadistic and mysterious woman." — Kelsey's Korner Blog 

"[Will] satisfy the insatiable needs of The Original Sinners fans." — Warhawke's Vault Book Blog

Need any more of a reason to read?

You can read my review, or you can also read...

An exclusive excerpt from The Chateau: An Erotic Thriller from 8th Circle Press...

By late afternoon, Kingsley been waiting for the payphone to ring for six hours. At least it had warmed up enough that he could almost, perhaps, maybe take a quick nap while sitting on the floor of the phone booth with his coat wrapped around his knees. He got settled in and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to drift off, someone knocked on the phone booth door.

Kingsley sprang immediately awake. And when he saw the girl standing outside the door, he leapt to his feet, a smile on his face.

“Pardon me, sir,” she said. “Do you live here?”

She spoke French like a native. He knew he was supposed to play dumb, to act like he only spoke English or stilted French, as part of his cover.

But.

The girl was magnificent. Black hair in a loose bun. Onyx eyes. Skin a deep olive like his, maybe even darker. She had a little beauty mark on her chin and her lips were a dusky hue, full and mischievous as if they wanted to slide into a smile but knew better than to encourage him. All her clothes were chic. Chic brown leather knee boots with a little heel. A brown skirt, a belted brown coat, and a red newsboy cap tilted rakishly over her right eye. She didn’t look very old—maybe eighteen or nineteen—but she carried herself with a sophistication beyond her tender years.

Since she was so very magnificent, he was compelled to respond with his own fluent French. So what if he blew his cover? He’d blow anything for this girl.

“Do I live here?” he asked. “On this street?”

“In the phone booth?”

She smiled and he decided they should have two children. Both girls. Or maybe one boy and one girl. He wasn’t picky.

“No,” he said. “I’m waiting on a call.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’ll find another phone then.”

“You can use this one,” he said. “It’s not mine. I don’t own it. It’s public. You’re the public.”

“But I’m not public. I’m very private,” she said.

Maybe three children, he thought. The third would be an accident. Unplanned. Likely the result of him ravishing her one time too many while on holiday in Saint Croix. He wondered if she liked being spanked. He would try to find that out before tomorrow morning.

“Then you shouldn’t use my public phone,” he said. “We should find you a private phone. I have one back at my place.”

“If you have a phone, why are you using a phone booth?” she asked. She was looking at him with unabashed appreciation. She might even find him as attractive as he found her.

“It’s for work. I think.”

“If you’re working I should leave you alone then,” she said. “I’ll find another phone on my own.”

“You’re Jewish.”

She furrowed her beautiful brow. “Are Jews not allowed to use phones?” she asked.

“I noticed your necklace,” he said. A gold Star of David pendant danced in the hollow of her throat. “I like it.”

“Are you Jewish?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I’m just so happy you aren’t Catholic.”

She laughed and her laugh bounced off the sidewalk into the sky and jumped into the nearest passing cloud. Kingsley hoped wherever that cloud went it would rain her laughter onto the world.

“Is it so bad to be Catholic?” she asked.

“I went to Catholic school,” he said by way of answer.

“Is it like I hear it is?” she asked.

“Worse. We can raise our children Jewish. I’ll convert.”

“Are you circumcised?” she asked.

“Not yet, but if you’ll give me a minute, I have my Swiss Army knife on me.”

While still at school this topic came up between me and a few others who are also going on the trip soon. There was only so much that I could fit into my carry on and actual luggage. A Little Life was definitely not going to be able to come with me to France no matter how long it would keep me busy during the long flight.

New Italian friend, Maria, asked if I had a kindle.

My answer was hesitant and not just because, though I love my kindle, it would never beat the experience of a real book. "Um, yes. I guess so."

"If you don't, you should really get one," she said. "I have a paperwhite and absolutely love it."

"Well I mean, I have one." I began. "It is just that it is the kindle fire...like the first kindle fire. Some of the bugs had obviously not been worked out quite yet."

For example, the pages didn't quite turn when you want them to all the time. My books sometimes casually loose their covers in the digital bookshelf display. All the internet gadgets and apps that they included never really worked, or worked for about a minute before shutting the entire kindle fire down. My kindle fire is like that first ever phone that you had that was full touch screen. Really cool for what it was...at the time.

"Ah," she nodded and showed me how reasonable these new paperwhites were on amazon, along with the coveted, and very expensive, oasis kindle.

The kindle oasis is like the designer kindle. We all want it. Mostly because, by designer, I mean you can take it into the tub without fear of it falling to its death by bubble bath. Waterproof! I am sure that it has other features, but that one seemed to stand out the most to the two of us who debated how likely it was for us to be reading in the middle of a pool.

Still, I couldn't and can't bring myself to purchase a new kindle, even if the one I have has a few issues. It is still a kindle. Maria however, brought up another topic.

"Unlimited."

"What?"

"Kindle unlimited," she explained, "You can read free books on your kindle with the unlimited for I think like ten dollars a month. There is a free trial."

It turns out that through kindle unlimited is basically the upgraded library version of kindle books. At $9.99 a month, you can read/borrow up to ten free books at a time. The only downside I see is that I can't have over ten free books at a time on your kindle, and they disappear if I ever decide to not to continue with the kindle unlimited service.


Still, all the books to read!

Though I couldn't read these borrowed free ebooks on a new fancy kindle, this unlimited possibility was something that I could wrap my head around. So to amazon I went for my free trial asking my mother to please cancel it when it was over while I was abroad...or maybe don't...I was not sure yet. I was sure however that I would be bringing my glitching kindle with me for plenty of in-flight entertainment.

What kind of entertainment you ask?

The Bird and the Sword by Ami Harmon

Swallow, daughter, pull them in, those words that sit upon your lips. Lock them deep inside your soul, hide them ‘til they’ve time to grow. Close your mouth upon the power, curse not, cure not, ‘til the hour. You won’t speak and you won’t tell, you won’t call on heaven or hell. You will learn and you will thrive. Silence, daughter. Stay alive.
The day my mother was killed, she told my father I wouldn’t speak again, and she told him if I died, he would die too. Then she predicted the king would sell his soul and lose his son to the sky.
   My father has a claim to the throne, and he is waiting in the shadows for all of my mother’s words to come to pass. He wants desperately to be king, and I just want to be free.
But freedom will require escape, and I’m a prisoner of my mother’s curse and my father’s greed. I can’t speak or make a sound, and I can’t wield a sword or beguile a king. In a land purged of enchantment, love might be the only magic left, and who could ever love . . . a bird?

Vicious (Sinners of Saint) by L.J. Shen

Emilia
They say love and hate are the same feelings experienced under different circumstances, and it’s true.
The man who comes to me in my dreams also haunts me in my nightmares.
He is a brilliant lawyer.
A skilled criminal.
A beautiful liar.
A bully and a savior, a monster and a lover.
Ten years ago, he made me run away from the small town where we lived. Now, he came for me in New York, and he isn’t leaving until he takes me with him.
   Vicious
She is a starving artist.
Pretty and evasive like cherry blossom.
Ten years ago, she barged into my life unannounced and turned everything upside down.
She paid the price.
Emilia LeBlanc is completely off-limits, my best friend’s ex-girlfriend. The woman who knows my darkest secret, and the daughter of the cheap Help we hired to take care of our estate.
That should deter me from chasing her, but it doesn’t.
So she hates me. Big fucking deal.
She better get used to me.

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me by Mariana Zapata

The Subs Club by J.A. Rock

A year ago, my best friend Hal died at the hands of an incompetent “dom.” So I started the Subs Club, a private blog where submissives can review doms and call out the douche bags.
   A perfect example of the kind of arrogant asshole I mean? The Disciplinarian. He has a pornstache. He loves meat, stoicism, America, and real discipline. And he thinks subs exist to serve him.
   But . . . not everything about him is awful. His Davy Crockett act just seems like a cover for his fear of intimacy, and part of me wants to show him it’s okay to get close to people. And, I mean, sue me, but I have fantasized about real discipline. Not role-play, but like, Dave, you’re gonna be thirty in four years and you still work in a mall; get your ass in gear or I’ll spank it.
   Not that I’d ever trust anyone with that kind of control.
   I’m gonna redefine “battle of wills” for the Disciplinarian. Or I’m gonna bone him. It’s hard to say.
   —Dave

Arrogant Devil by R.S. Grey

Everyone in Cedar Creek, Texas, knows Jack McNight is an arrogant devil. Physically, I get it: he’s tan and fit, with coal-black hair that’s clearly been scorched by hellfire. Oh, and his personality? It burns just as hot.
   When I show up on the doorstep of Blue Stone Ranch, I’m run-down and rockin’ my last pair of underwear. I’m hoping for a savior, but instead, I find him.
   My opinion of Jack is marred by a dismal first impression, but his opinion of me is tainted even before I arrive. He’s heard I’m a spoiled princess there to take advantage of his goodwill. To him, I’m more trouble than I’m worth.
   Our button-pushing banter should get under my skin. His arrogance should be a major turn-off. Problem is, devils are known to offer their own form of temptation.
   Every one of his steely glares sends a shiver down my spine.
   Every steamy encounter leaves me reeling.
   Sure, it could be the Texas heat messing with my head, but there’s no way I’ll survive the summer without silencing him with a kiss and wrestling him out of those Wranglers.
   Who knows…going to bed with the devil might just be the salvation I’ve been looking for all along.