RRN Online Volume 340

December 07 '02

Volume 340

Nice Vacation By Linda Ball Reeves

Martin and I arrived Nice Harbor in Nice, France on Tuesday Morning, April 2,2002 after a peaceful and uneventful flight from JFK. After picking up our rental car we were actually able to find our way out of the Hertz parking lot, out of the airport and get onto the coastal highway that took us to our hotel in Nice. The Sheraton, where we stayed, is located on the part of the Mediterranean known as the Cote D'Azur (coast of blue).

We had lunch at an outdoor restaurant and just enjoyed the sheer beauty of the Mediterranean. Afterward we walked around the city and tried to acclimate ourselves to the city and the area. We quickly realized that the road network in this area is complicated and a great deal of planning is required when traveling by car. In order to make it easier to understand, I'll try to explain the three main highways or corniches, as they are called there.

The Corniche Inferieure runs right along the coast much the same as Highway 90 runs along the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The Moyenne Corniche is higher up in the mountains and isn't as congested. The Grand Corniche follows what is called the Roman road, is very high on the side of the mountains and gives a spectacular view of the villages and Mediterranean below.

Wednesday, April 3, we had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, came back to our room and thought we would just rest for awhile before heading out to see the sights. Jet lag must have set in because we both woke up around 7:00 AM the next day.

Thursday we headed out as early as possible since we had completely lost Wednesday. Drove to Monaco and Monte Carlo but didn't even get out of our car. Since this is such a small area, traffic was terribly congested, tour buses were everywhere and it was almost impossible to move at all. We did see the Royal Palace of Prince Ranier, which is set on sheer-sided, flat rock that drops right down into the water. Monaco and Monte Carlo are so beautiful and if we get to visit this part of France again we will stay in this area. It would take a long time just to see these two cities. We left this area, drove up the mountain, and traveled along the Grand Corniche to the little village of Eze. Eze is a perched village with a medieval castle at the top called the Chateau de la Chevre d'or. The panoramic view of the Mediterranean below is breathtaking. According to the tourist information, the island of Corsica can be seen from here. We returned to Nice that afternoon by way of the tiny town of Villefranche sur Mer. This little town is so natural and beautiful and is home to many of the rich and famous.

On Friday we drove to Cagnes-sur-Mer (Canya-sur-Mare) to visit the home of Renoir. Let me just say right here that I did not pronounce the name of the town correctly when I inquired about it in the hotel lobby that morning. Renoir's home is almost exactly as it was when he died, and houses 10 of his original paintings and two bronze sculptures. Walking around Renoir's home and being close enough to original paintings to touch them (not that this would have been a wise thing to do) was an awesome experience. I think we both enjoyed touring his garden and olive groves as much as his home. His garden looked just like one of his paintings...filled with beautiful blue Irises. We left Cagnes-sur-Mer and drove to the small, picturesque village of St- Paul-de-Vence. The outdoor cafes, shops and the views gave a feeling of true serenity, and I hope to someday return.

On Saturday we left Nice and drove north into the mountains to the city of Aix-en-Provence (Aix is pronounced just like the letter X). The beauty of this city is almost surreal and the people were so warm and friendly. The main thoroughfare of the city is the beautiful Cours Mirabeau, which is lined with plane trees, large fountains, cafes and elegant private hotels. The largest and most beautiful of the fountains is The Rotunda. It is also called the "great Fountain" and is considered the center of the town.

When visiting the city of Aix it quickly becomes apparent that it is the home of the famous painter, Cézanne. A tour of the city (called "In Cézanne's footsteps") takes tourists from the home where he was born to the last address of the painter. A visit to his workshop, up in the hills above Aix, was the highlight of our visit to the city of Aix. Dozens of his works, now kept in the large museums of the world, were painted in this workshop. I was able to talk briefly with a tour guide (she spoke only in French to the tour groups) and she told me that after World War II, the property was going to be sold and townhouses were going to be built on it. However, a wealthy American came back to the United States and raised funds to buy it. It was then given to the University of Aix and has been open to the public since 1954.

On Tuesday we left Aix and headed back to Nice. We missed our turn onto the autoroute (fortunately) and drove many miles out into the countryside where we saw beautiful vineyards, old Provencal farmhouses, and quaint little villages. After getting headed back in the right direction we drove to the beautiful seaport of Cassis ( Ca-seese). The beautiful coastline of this port city is broken up by "calanques" (ka-lunks). Calanques are fjord-like inlets that lie between tall white cliffs. As we were driving into the town, we were driving down the side of a mountain, looking down on these stark white cliffs with beautiful blue-green water in the inlets. It was a sight I'll never forget. Boat rides were available into these inlets but we didn't have time and decided to save that for another trip. We continued on back to Nice on the autoroute, driving through the Alps at dusk with a light mist rising. It was one of my most memorable segments of our trip.

Wednesday was our last day and we decided to make the most of it. We drove along the coastal highway to the beautiful town of St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat. There we visited the Rothschild Villa and gardens, with incredible views of the Mediterranean surrounding the entire property. From there we drove to the little towns of Villefranche and Beaulieu which are picturesque. From there we drove past Monaco and Monte Carlo and across the Italian border to San Remo. This entire stretch of coastline is breathtaking. We then headed back to Nice on the Grand Corniche and stopped at the little village of La Turbie. This charming little village sits high above Monte-Carlo and offers one of the finest views on the Riviera. It was the perfect view for ending our tour of the incredibly beautiful Mediterranean coastline.

Editor's Note: Linda Ball Reeves and I graduated together from Pontotoc High School. Upon learning she and her husband were to vacation in France, I asked her to write an article describing her trip. I am grateful for her sharing their vacation experience with the readership of this newsletter.

Dogs And Bears By Cindy Gaillard

Dogs and fly-fishing just go together. Especially one dog in particular, a gangly Irish Setter named Brynne who loved to tag along with Dad and me scrambling up and down the banks of, well, any river really. She was the sort of dog who was patient, gentle and good-natured - to a point. Brynne wasn't one of those flighty setters that preen at Madison Square Garden. Not my dog. Think smart. Like a fiery red Lassie with an attitude.

It was a warm spring day in northern New Mexico. Bugs were designing new and improved flight paths in the breezy sky. The grass was thigh-high and the trail played tricks on us all afternoon, hiding inconspicuously in thick pine trees. Dad and I were on the banks of the Santa Barbara River catching little cutthroat and rainbows on dry flies. The stream was too narrow and shallow to wade through so we found little niches here and there along the bank to thread our rods out over the water.

I was 19 and still learning my knots. Dad would wait for me but Brynne wasn't about to let the day slide by standing around while I tried to tie on yet another fly. She was off and running most of the morning, careful to get absolutely every inch of her 63 pounds soaking wet. She knew that she was allowed to jump in only after we had fished a hole so with limited patience Brynne waited by my side until my line came up and I said "Go ahead girl." Red fur flashed instantly. She simply enjoyed the water like only a year-old Irish Setter could. Dad and I couldn't help but smile at the goofy girl.

So that was the way we all spent the day, the three of us scrambling to the next hole, catching fish, practicing knots and getting soaked then hunting for the trail again - all under a vibrant blue New Mexico sky. That is, until Brynne stopped dead in her tracks.

Brynne never stopped like that. I had had her since she was born and knew everything about that dog. I knew the weight of her pressing against me when we walked. I knew the goofy steps she danced when she was happy. I even knew how heavy her head was when I kept it in my lap for hours that night I thought I had lost her to infection. I knew the height of her spirit by expression in her eyes and her mood by the swing of her tail. But I was dumbfounded as she stood completely motionless in front of me on that high mountain trail in the middle of nowhere.

Brynne wouldn't let me walk forward on the trail. I was improving with my knots and distracted because I wanted to head up stream, anxious to test out my latest attempt. So when I reached down to touch Brynne just to get her attention away from my feet, I was stunned to find every muscle in this sizable dog quivering. I talked to her in that voice you use to comfort, to let her know that all was well but Brynne didn't budge. And when I saw the bear, neither did I.

"Big Bear," that's all my mind could find lying around to say.

"Big Bear," I must have said it a couple of times before Dad came up behind me.

At that precise moment, I grabbed for more words to warn him and managed, "Dad. Big. Bear."

He seemed to get it and stopped in his tracks. Yup. It was a big bear. I would find out later that it was a cinnamon colored black bear, prevalent in the western United States. Since I had never seen a bear in the wild before, I sized him up as approximately as big as the Empire State Building. Mind you, I've never seen the Empire State Building either. He was just up the trail, about 50 yards away on his hind legs, looking right at us.

So there we all were, like actors stuck on stage without a director. Brynne shaking uncontrollably at this time next to my leg, me shaking uncontrollably next to Brynne and Dad whispering very valuable instructions to me like, "Don't move."

My jelly legs were very relieved to hear that "Don't Move" was one of the top requirements of human behavior when meeting a bear. My internal organs however, were screaming something like, "What the hell are we doing just standing here. Don't you see that smelly Empire State Building might eat us?"

Fortunately, my internal organs never developed the art of self-propulsion, and we just stayed there in one big shaking human-dog-Daddy mass. It was only at this time that I realized that we had fresh fish in our creels. Absolutely fresh rainbow trout firmly wrapped around our shaking little necks.

"Oh my god, why did you pick this day to actually catch something? Shaddup," my head told my innards, "I'm very busy trying not to move."

This whole silent scenario, of course, was being played out under the watchful eye of this Big Bear wondering what the hell we were up to.

Well, obviously, I'm here to tell the tale so we were not eaten in the end. The Big Bear came down from his hind legs and sniffed a few warning sniffs in our general direction and lumbered up the trail. Maybe he wasn't hungry. Maybe he had other important Bear Business to attend to. We'll never know. I tried to formulate words but nothing more came out than a barely audible squeak. Dad looked at me. I looked at him. We both looked at Brynne. She was still looking up the trail. I reached down and stroked her auburn head and told her how proud I was and thanked her a thousand times over. She looked at me for a moment then pointed her nose in the general direction of the Empire State Building and spat out a low rumbling squeaky growl.

Brynne didn't relax for hours. We rustled up the courage to fish the rest of the day and Brynne tagged along as usual but she didn't go in the water, rather, the empty trail seemed to hold her attention all day. She duly warned us when any bear look-a-likes clambered down the trail - backpackers, hikers, small children, squirrels, shadows of squirrels - all were met with hackles, bared teeth and violent tremors.

It was only that night, when she was clearly exhausted, did she let her reserve down. That is, only after she quite loudly spoke her mind. Remember, she was an Irish Setter. All Irish Setters worth their salt will always give you their opinion. But this wasn't an opinion, this was an order. She jumped up into the camper and barked. And barked. And barked. Mom, Dad and I, warmed by an enormous Big-Bear-Scaring-Fire, could not figure out what she wanted. She didn't want food or water nor was she comforted by my petting.

Dad looked at me and said, "Seems to me, she wants us inside."

And as soon as we got some sense and relented to the big, rude Irish Setter and came inside for the night, Brynne countered our chuckles with a huge noisy chest heaving sigh, the kind that only tired dogs make when they're done protecting their humans for the day. ©1999 Cindy Gaillard

Editor's note: The preceding is a true story. Cindy Gaillard is the daughter of Ken and Pat Gaillard of Albuquerque, NM. Cindy is a Writer-Producer for PBS, first at KNME in Albuquerque, NM, and more recently with WOSU in Columbus, Ohio. According to her dad, Cindy's documentaries have received numerous awards including two Emmys, but the one she values most is a NETA (National Educators Television Award). Ken had contacted Cindy regarding my request for Christmas memories, but her schedule prevented a timely response for submissions this year. Instead, Cindy shared her dog and bear story.

Joy In Vicksburg Jim Hess To Stay

A few weeks ago, it was noted in this newsletter that Jim Hess, Minister of Music at FBC, Vicksburg, MS, had resigned and would be moving to Starkville, MS, where he would provide a similar service for The First United Methodist Church. We wish to report a change in events and quote, in part, from an article that appeared in The Messenger, FBC Vicksburg's newsletter, dated 11/21/2002:

Dear First Baptist Church, Over a period of time I began to believe that God was leading me to make a move from First Baptist Church. I went through a long process that ultimately led me to present my resignation to the church.

After I made this known to the congregation, I began to have very strong doubts about what I had done. With considerable thought and prayer about this, I could not find peace in my decision. I can assure you that when you are doing what God wants you to do, you have peace…After prayerful consideration, I came back to the church and asked that I be allowed to continue the ministry here that God has called me to do. I am grateful for the congregation's understanding, that of our Pastor, and also my family…James C. Hess.

Bodock Beau Shopper And Blind Associate

Not every purchase at a mass merchandiser is a bargain. It also pays to check your receipt.

The Blind Associate

A woman goes into Wal-Mart to buy a rod and reel. She doesn't know which one to get, so she just grabs one and goes over to the register. A Wal-Mart associate wearing dark shades stands ready to help.

She says, "Excuse me, Sir ... can you tell me anything about this rod and reel?"

He says, "Ma'am, I'm blind, but if you will drop it on the counter I can tell you everything you need to know about it from the sound that it makes.

She didn't believe him but dropped it on the counter anyway. He said, "That's a 6' graphite rod with a Zebco 202 reel and 10 lb. test line...It's a good all around rod and reel, and it's $20.00."

She says, "It is amazing that you can tell all that just by the sound of it dropping on the counter. I think it's what I'm looking for, so I'll take it."

He walks behind the counter to the register. She bends down to get her purse and inadvertently passes some gas. At first she is embarrassed but then realizes that there is no way he could tell it was her. Being blind, he wouldn't know that she was the only person around.

He rings up the sale and says, "That will be $25.50."

She says, "But didn't you say it was $20.00?"

He says, "Yes ma'am, the rod and reel is $20.00, the duck call is $3.00, and the catfish stink bait is $2.50. And, thank you for shopping at Wal-Mart.

Submitted by Rick Greene

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