Hello Sandy Toes and Warm Baguette: Our Trip to Le Pyla
Where in the world are we?!
So, here I am. It’s about 11:30 in the evening and I’m laying cozy in bed next to Scott, who’s working on an online project. We’re in bed, but not just any bed – we’re in the most beautiful bed within the most precious walls belonging to my beloved grandparents, who live in the South of France, in a little town called Le Pyla. We’re here! Except, we’ve been here for three weeks, and the internet has just now become strong enough to blog with. Lesson re-learned — sometimes, incredibly easy situations are in fact incredibly complicated, and that’s how the cookie crumbles on some days.
Anyhow, I’m so excited to be able to share with you some parts of our trip here to France, my homeland!!! Please excuse any seemingly- miscellaneous phrases; after a few weeks spent in France, my English words start to fold into French ones like pastry dough. Layers and layers. French, English. But alas, we will get through this!
Where to start. Well, I AM SO GRATEFUL TO BE HERE!!!! And, I am so grateful to be here with Scott, my beloved angel and best friend. Throughout the years of our relationship I have never ceased to speak to him about this country of France that I love so much. On a daily basis I typically correlate or compare anything American to the French version of what I know, or what I learned growing up for the first 11 years of my life, which means that 1) I have a very patient husband and 2) I still clearly have a deep love for my country.
Le Pyla is an adorable beach town on the Gulf of the Pacific, South West of France and South of Bordeaux. It’s a town that stretches along one road starting from the Dune du Pyla (the largest sand dune in Europe) and ends at Le Moulleau, a night-life boardwalk area with ice cream shops, dancing, bars, and pastry shops. It’s quaint, dainty, safe, beautiful, luxurious, but simple. During the day families walk down from their houses to the beach, and at night they ride their bikes into town to grab an ice cream or crepe. It’s the good life! It really is. The air in the morning is fresh, the farmer’s markets are incredible, and although it is a beach town, there are trees, plants and flowers delicately planted everywhere. It’s curated but wild at once, and to me, it’s perfect. Maybe i’m a little biased though, considering I grew up in this town. From crab-catching to young lovers, from diapers to Italian Vogue, this place has been the one constant. I will cherish it forever.
Our days here in Pyla consisted of sleeping in, going to the market with my grandma, playing Scrabble with my dad, visiting the sand dunes (La Dune du Pyla), playing on the beach, eating ice cream and crepes at Le Sorbet au Moulleau, attempting to tan (actually, I got a pretty decent tan! I always forget that my father has olive skin and that his dna is within my skin walls too. I can tan! A born-again discovery), riding horses in the forest (a yearly tradition with family), enjoying the sweet smell of the air and most of all, enjoying my family that I seldom get to see. My father, grandparents, cousins, uncles, everyone! It’s difficult having family split on two ends of the Earth. I suppose the upside of the situation is the opportunity to travel, but still — distance is hard, especially for a girl like me. (I am terrible at keeping in touch. Deep down I believe it is both a lack of example and a defense-turned-habitual mechanism. As a teen I had to learn to “shut off” emotion & thoughts towards my father who was nonexistent for 90% of the year ; the result is a lack of emotion when people leave. I feel nothing. “Out of sight, out of mind” they say. Throughout the past few years with Scott however, I do feel that my ability to keep in touch has gotten better. He is a pro, a true angel, and has the sensibility to call his loved ones on a weekly basis. His ability to do this is a trait that attracted me from the get-go, because I knew that I could learn a lesson or two from his example. I admire him in more ways than one! Which is a blessing and gift. I love you Scott!)
Speaking of Scott ; he asks me every day when we can move here to France. I’ll stare at him with loving eyes and he’ll have a look on his face of a man that is far off into the clouds and I’ll ask “What are you thinking of, my love?” and he’ll say “Moving here to France”. It is true that the things we lack in Los Angeles —fresh air, good food (okay. I realize that in the U.S., California is one of the most blessed states on the food scale. But still, where are the meats? and cheeses?), less superficiality, more culture, more charm — exists here by the barrels. Then again, we are so fortunate to live in Los Angeles. We have great friends, a beautiful life (amongst the usual unavoidable challenges), opportunity, and comfort. So, where will life take us? Do we stick with comfort? Do we jump into the abyss of the unknown? Only time will tell.
As for now, we have a few weeks left here and we will be enjoying all of the baguette, cheeses, eclairs and beauty that we can.
I love you France! I love you dad. I love you grandparents. I love you family.