After finagling a two-person kayak on my own for half an hour, then turning around to head back to the shore to meet my group, the winds picked up, making my efforts to paddle very difficult. I gritted my teeth and put my back into it. Just then, an electric boat full of fellow yogis drifted by. “Need a tow?” I smiled and nodded. Sometimes a little help pays off, especially in such gorge-ous environs.
Yesterday I turned 40. Unlike some women, I am not fighting it. I look at 40 as a new leaf, a clean slate full of opportunity. When I think back over the years, I’ve accomplished a lot travelwise.
Our yoga retreat, held at Bastide Avellanne, was in the middle of Provence. That is to say: the middle of nowhere. A 15-minute walk down the hill had you surrounded by vineyards like these. Most of the grapes were already picked for the season, but I still managed to find a few clumps of rich, juicy black grapes to savor.
Fritjes — aka fries — in Amsterdam are phenomenally delicious. They’re the perfect thickness, while being crisp, not soggy. They’re served in a paper cone. If you’d like, you can get your choice of sauce slathered on top. I remembered enjoying “samurai sauce” 18 years ago when I studied in Europe. To my delight, it’s still on the menu. What is it, you ask? Simply sriracha and mayo, which is my favorite dip for just about anything. Sheer bliss…